To Look At The Queen, Khushwant Singh, my blooms

THEN I Became Nostalgic and REMEMBERED

THE LESSON of my English book in my 11^th  grade

The lesson was 'The Portrait of a Lady' By  Khushwant Singh  where he describes the beauty in the activities of his grandmother  Here is the review of the lesson 'The Portrait of a Lady' from the internet

Meet Khushwant Singh's grandmother, in his own words:

'...short, fat and slightly bent... . Her face was a crisscross of wrinkles running from everywhere to everywhere'. Quite  irreverently, he says: ...the thought of my grandmother being young and pretty was almost revolting.' She was his friend who woke him up while constantly muttering her prayers in the hopeless hope that he would imbibe some of  the religious verses (which he never did), dress him up for school,  get his school kit ready and then walk him to school. While he went through his lessons, she went through her prayers in the temple adjoining the village school and then they both walked back home. But distances grew between the two close pals, once they moved to the city. Khushwant says: 'That was the turning point in our relationship.’ He now went to school in a bus and she was horrified that the school taught him nothing of religion when he told her of the western science he had studied. She now had no time for words, 'her lips moved in prayer, her mind moved in prayer,' constantly, he says. She accepted seclusion,and spent time feeding the sparrows, now her soulmates. Khushwant's move to England for further studies widened the distance. She was there to see him off with a moist kiss which he cherished-as perhaps her last touch. But she is there when he returns after five years, looking 'not a day older'. But she still had not time for words.Then one day, for the first time she does not pray and takes ill the next morning. Like a prescient, she knows better than the doctor that her end has come. Now more than ever, she has no time for words with the family. She takes up her rosary, her lips-move in prayer and then the rosary falls from her hand...The sparrows she used to feed sit scattered about her. Khushwant's mother throws some breadcrumbs for them, like his grandmother did but the sparrows will not touch it. They carry the body away and then do the sparrows fly away. The breadcrumbs, which remained untouched, are swept away.By the sweeper next morning.He writes: 'Always in spotless white, she was like the winter landscape in the mountains, an expanse of pure white serenity breathing peace and contentment."

Khushwant Singh

 Last month I read  a nice essay by  Khushwant Singh in the October issue of  the Readers Digest. I liked it very much. It was from his book, 'The Book of Unforgettable Women'.Also i read To Look At The Queen | Khushwant Singh.

MY hibiscus

Our Hibiscus was looking really good yesterday morning and I decided it needed shooting. 

I shot a couple in early morning it was overcast light then I  wanted to bump it up a notch and decided to have a pic in noon. Then this was the result. 

 "Plants are an ally for our health."
It is known for its strong red color, and it is that it is the chalices of a plant called hibiscus sabdariffa, which are allowed to dry, and these are the ones used in infusion. 
Rich in  citric acid and vitamin C , necessary to strengthen the immune system and increase defenses.

Hibiscus  does not contain any caffeine or protein , two stimulating substances that accelerate our heart rate.

In certain very warm places of Asia, America and Africa , the oldest way to consume hibiscus is tea, which is obtained from the infusion of dried petals and is taken at social gatherings.

Heave a Read and try the hibiscus tea!!!!!!!!