SOAP BAR OR SHOWER GEL

 

SOAP BAR OR SHOWER GEL

I prefer to use a soap bar in the shower rather than its younger liquidy siblings, body wash or shower gels. Call me old-fashioned and as indeed I am, in my seventies, I do not mind.

The soap, once you hold in the hand, you can use it with eyes shut. The eyes are usually shut under the shower. No fumbling with plastic bottles and caps. No risk of two thirds of gel in one’s palm ending up (down!) cleaning the floor rather than one’s corpus. What a waste! 

And that is just a tiny annoyance compared to the fact that the slimy gel makes the floor more dangerous than the aptly named “Harakiri” skiing slopes in Mayrhofen, Austria, its snowy slope has a gradient of 78%! 

Yes, the soap bar sometimes slips out from one’s fingers but that is rare if one is a regular user and does not change the brand too often. The varied brands have an irritating habit of coming in different weights, shapes, and sizes playing havoc with our kinaesthetic memory. Luckily by the time you are as old as me you should have found your favourite soap.

 The soap, sliding slowly and smoothly on one’s skin under the warm
shower produces an immensely luxuriant and hedonistic experience. The only danger here is forgetting the ticking of clock and emptying the hot water tank!

The bodywash and gel on the other hand remind me of a hurried and harassed, utilitarian lifestyle. For me, these bottled concoctions will not do.

I use the word “concoctions “deliberately. If you care to look at the ingredients listed on the bottle you will understand what I mean. To fit the extensive list on the label they miniaturise the fonts so much that to read them with ease you will need nothing less than an electron microscope! Does one really wish to rub all these chemicals on skin and pay a premium for the privilege?

Lamentably some manufacturers are putting many of these chemicals in the bar soaps as well but like for like the list is still much smaller than that in the wash and gels.

Essentially, a soap or a gel is there for removing the dirt, sweat and excess grease from the body surface. And the bar does that better, cheaper, and safely.

Oh, I forgot that by using the soap you are also Saving the Planet by reducing the use of plastic waste, which is producing new rubbish mountains on land, clogging of the waterways and creating mega plastic islands in the sea.

In case you, the dear reader, object to my occasional emptying of the hot water tank, I am planning to put an electronic timer chip in the shower and use a renewable source of energy. Just waiting for the G-20 countries to fork out some dough to a poor pensioner in the spirit of COP26!

PORTSMOUTH: A JOURNEY BACK TO PERSONAL AND HISTORICAL PASTS

 

A MINI HOLIDAY UNDER THE SHADOW OF COVID19

Sunny and warm days were forecast for the whole week following a fortnight of miserable, cold and wet weather snap. We felt that we must take advantage of this dry break and take a holiday. The menacing pandemic is still simmering, the possibility of another lockdown, though small is always there. This threat of impending prohibition made the desire to enjoy this opportune freedom rather compulsive.

The complexities of choosing a safe holiday destination did not dampen the desire. Going abroad even to a nearby European destination needs a lot of organising and is riddled with uncertainties so we decided to stay in the country.

After considering a few places we finally chose the historic naval city of Portsmouth. It evoked a nostalgic feeling. I did my first job* there in in 1977 when I came to UK and have not been there since.

It is a relatively quieter city and the incidence of covid 19 in this part of the country is relatively low. It is only about two to three hours journey by car so we would avoid travelling by public transport.

To keep the risks down we chose to stay in a small countryside bed and breakfast which catered for only a few guests at a time.

I was excited and enthusiastic as we reached the city, kept on reminiscing to Bibha about my stay there.  In the city I went near the area where I had stayed. I did not recognise anything around St Mary’s Hospital where I worked all that time ago. It has changed so much. The hospital is now a community hospital instead of a busy district hospital of my memory’s past.  It is irrational but I felt let down. 

 To be honest I was there only for two and a half weeks and my whole attention was to overcome the anxiety of being in an alien place and at the same time trying to impress my colleagues with my work, and bed-manners  at the hospital. I don’t think I paid much attention to the surroundings and forty years have passed since. My memories were probably more a product of my brain’s imagination and editing over time as it always happens with long term memories.

When we went to the waterfront at the harbour it was the same story, everything was different. There were now many multi-storey buildings with gleaming glass fronts. It looked highly commercialised. One can not even enter the historic harbour area without buying a ticket let alone see the famous ships. I had bought the tickets online to avoid queuing. Strolling in the harbour we came to the most elegant ship there, HMS Victory made famous by its participation as the flag ship of Lord Nelson in the Battle of Trafalgar more than 200 years ago. My only sightseeing in Portsmouth in 1977 was a visit to HMS Victory!  I and Bibha went abode the ship. 

Once inside the ship I suddenly felt a strange sense of being there, seeing and touching various artefacts and hearing the description. I did not remember or recognise these things in the usual sense. I had only seen them for a few minutes 44 years ago! But I felt an odd familiarity, not nostalgic but a kind of Déjà vu-ish. In one of the lower decks, in spite of all the warning notices I hit my head on a beam on the low ceiling. I remembered that I did this in 1977 too!

Ship surgeon's table and tools

For next two days we visited many famous sites in the town and strolled on a few beaches, did a bit of shopping in the large new mall (Gunwharf Quays) and went up the 170m tall Spinnaker Tower for a spectacular view of the bay from 150 meters up.

We drove back home, luckily traffic was not bad. We both were tired but strangely felt happier and fresh. That’s what a holiday is for. Isn’t it?

Where else can one sit on a torpedo but at a naval base.

*Actually, it was my “attachment”. It was a mandatory paid assessment period where an overseas doctor was attached to a hospital unit for up to four weeks. Only on its successful completion one could get a training doctor job in the National Health Service.

 

View of the harbour from the top of Spinnaker Tower

GREEN SKY WITH WHITE STARS

“Fresh smitten by the morning ray,
When thou art up, alert and gay,
Then, cheerful Flower! my spirits play
With kindred gladness:
And when, at dusk, by dews oppressed
Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest
Hath often eased my pensive breast
Of careful sadness.”

               William Wordsworth, To the Daisy First Poem,1802

Last week, as the weather was hotting up after the recent long spell of cold and rain, the grass fields were becoming luscious green and speckled with white daisies.

On our walk, a little girl in a bright yellow frock ran to the young woman sitting at a bench under the big leafy maple tree at the edge of the field. The woman was looking intently at her phone. The girl had a handful of these white flowers. She put them all in woman’s lap and exclaimed “Mummy, I have picked some stars for you.”  Both started laughing and hugging.  They soon became busy in making a daisy chain.

I was impressed by the child’s imaginative metaphor. The large field WAS indeed looking like a vast expanse of green sky with bright stars. Not only that, just like stars they were arranged randomly in clusters like constellations! The daisies in grass fields are a common sight but I have never perceived the whole scenario in this wonderful, exalted way.

I always loved these small bright flowers. I keep delaying mowing of our lawn just to keep the daisies blooming for a bit longer. These flowers close their petals at sunset and open looking fresh in the morning when the sun comes up. That is why someone looking fresh and full of energy in the morning (after a good night sleep) is said to look “as fresh as a daisy”. “Whoops-a-daisy” is a common exclamation used after a stumble or a gaffe. It comes from a phrase used in 1800s “ups-a-daisy” used to encourage a child to get up after a fall.

The name daisy itself comes from the old English "daes eage," meaning "day's eye." The long white petals opening like eye lashes revealing the bright yellow circular disc in the centre.

In fact daisy is a mysterious flower. Each flower consists of hundreds of flowers. Each white petal is a flower in itself and so is each pinpoint yellow grain in the central disc! Daisy is a composite flower just like The Sunflower to which it is closely related.

In various cultures Daisies have come to symbolize innocence, purity, freshness, demureness, beauty and humility. No wonder William Wordsworth penned four poems exclusively on Daisies!

 “A nun demure of lowly port;

Or sprightly maiden of Love’s court,

In thy simplicity the sport

Of all temptations;

A queen in crown of rubies drest;

A starveling in a scanty vest;

Are all, as seems to suit thee best

Thy appellations.”

William Wordsworth, To the Same Flower Second Poem,1802

 

GETTING OUT OF 2ND LOCKDOWN

 

The 2^nd country-wide full lockdown here in England is soon going to end. From of March some restrictions will disappear. Then gradually more easing will followin phases . Is life going back to normal, as we were before? No one thinks it will, certainly not in the next few years.

 Just look at what happened when last total lockdown was lifted. Only after a few days immediately after the lockdown ended the euphoria disappeared. Mask, social distancing, cleaning of hands all continued and constantly reminded of a terrible   enemy lurking just around the corner as one ventured out. The sense of freedom was very short-lived.

Many rebelliously flouted the restrictions. This cohort was not homogenous. Apart from young, insane and habitually irresponsible people it also consisted of some who as a principle, objected to any compromise of basic human rights. Most deplorable were from a particularly opportunistic group of political and business leaders who vehemently opposed it for utterly selfish gains.

Witnessing them just multiplied the sense of impending danger. And soon the case numbers started increasing and hospitals started filling up. Government ministers had to chew their hats and started again imposing increasing degrees of restrictions, finally culminating into another total lockdown.

So far 2.7 million people have died worldwide, 126,000 in UK alone. Many more survived but still suffering from serious long term ill effects.  The whole world economy still in free fall.   

This lockdown is about to finish here but will the same cycle of lockdown- liberty- lockdown repeat again?

Well, this time, we got two powerful allies to help us, the vaccines against this virus (SARS-CoV-2) and our much-enhanced knowledge about and the disease Covid-19.

Both of these powerful tools have only been possible because many countries shared information and resources, closely cooperated and invested heavily in scientific research.

One can easily see if mutual trust and cooperation had started at the very beginning of this crisis in Wuhan the world would not have suffered this much.

All of us live in a single precarious air bubble, the atmosphere
surrounding a single round rock, floating in a hostile infinite space, there is no place for petty nationalism and regional protectionist rackets. The earlier we learn this, better prepared we will be for further global existential onslaughts.

 

MY LITTLE EGRET

 

I get up in the morning. With bleary eyes open the patio door of the bedroom to feel the cold and fresh air on the face and take a few lungfuls. This little routine blows away the morning cobwebs and removes the intense desire to crawl back under the duvet. It fully awakens me.

A small white bird flies in and perches on a fat branch of the big Ash tree at the bank of the river stream. As my bedroom is on the third floor the bird is at my eye level. This little bundle of white fluff only appears when the weather gets cold.

I have not seen this bird before we came to live in South East of England four years ago. When I saw it standing near the water edge of the brook, I thought it was a heron. It also looked like a common Indian bird "Bagula".

The gardener who had come to trim our front hedge saw me looking and said that it was an Egret, a migratory bird, not native to this place. The gardener was a keen bird watcher and even keener to impart his knowledge. I learnt that the egrets migrate from the continent when it become colder and goes back in summer. He showed me its characteristic luminous yellow feet and a black dagger shaped long beak. It also had two slender white feathers sticking out elegantly from the back of the head. An image of the sacred long tuft of white
hair on the head of our elderly Pandit Jee in our village in India flashed before me and made me smile. 

Since then, I eagerly wait for the Egret every winter. It usually comes around the end of September or early October and vanishes by the end of March. While here it comes to perch on this tree every morning and then forages in the shallow waters of the Wye just below the tree in the morning hours.

Currently the weather is so dreary; very cold and very wet. The trees and most of the shrubs are completely denuded pretending to be dead. Breaking this monotonous grey landscape, the arrival of this Little Egret is greatly welcome. Sometimes two of them are here. They are said to be monogamous and pair for life. Occasionally their frolics together adds a bit more drama and excitement.

When our grandchildren came to sleepover, I showed them the Egret in the morning. It also gave me a pretext to tell them the Panchtantra story of “Bagula Bhagat and the Crab”.

The bird disappears as the leaves begin to come back and Daffodils and Forsythia bloom to brighten the surroundings.

The appearance of the Egret as the winter starts, in a way makes one thankful that the weather here is not as bad as the poor Egret’s usual habitat and gives hope that it will get better everywhere, and the bird will go back home as it has happened for millennia.

There is a small fly (or a big whale!) in the ointment. With increasing global warming and degradation of our environment how can we be sure that this bird and many like it continue this cycle in future? It is not a rhetorical question anymore. 

    * Its scientific name is Egretta garzetta.