Swimming Is a Way Of Keeping From Drowning

When times were (and are) hard I remembered these lines of Guru Gobind Singh Ji

Oh Shiva! grant me this wish

From good deeds I may never scare
Limb by limb may be torn apart
Abandon battlefield I may never dare

This race however is Sachi's and Sachi's alone. We can at best only guess the road he is travelling. When race horses are training they are made to run with another horse to provide a challenge. I am trying to be that horse instead of letting the cancer take that place. You all are too. Looking at Sachi I think we are succeeding.

Sweet Babi, thank you for asking though.

This picture is of the daffodils growing behind an evergreen bush by the side of our house. Every year I forget that they grow there. When I do see them I am always shocked that I have overlooked them. Such bright color, such perseverance despite neglect, and such effusive joy. Seema, your comment reminded me to go out and look for them. This year they are for you.

The Daffodils

by W. Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high over vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden Daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

. . . . . . .
Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never ending line

Along the margin of the bay.

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

. . . . . . .

The waves beside them danced; but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee.

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company.

I gazed - and gazed- but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought.

. . . . . . .
For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills

And dances with the daffodils.

(Thankyou Mr. Mehta, my ninth grade English teacher)

. . . . . .

I have never seen a sea of Daffodils like Wordsworth; The field of yellow mustard flowers that grows in my village matches this description though. Baba Ji (my dad's elder brother) and I stood in that field once and recited this poem. He lives with those flowers now.

Sachi is sleeping on the family room sofa. It is noon right now. We spent the morning watching 'The Painted Veil' for the second time. I wonder what is the meaning of the title (why painted)? If you have not seen this movie add it to your list of 'must see'. Sachi has gained one pound. Slow but steady we are getting there. Ravi is at his track meet in Iowa (neighboring state), Suraj is with Jeff's family watching the Husker's spring game and Jyoti is working. Sachi and I plan on a quiet cozy day.

Our love and regard to all of you.

Ambi