Why this blog is called "Gallimaufry".

gal-uh-MAW-free\, noun.

Originally meaning "a hash of various kinds of meats," "gallimaufry" comes from French galimafrée; in Old French, from the word galer, "to rejoice, to make merry"; in old English: gala + mafrer: "to eat much," and from Medieval Dutch maffelen: "to open one's mouth wide."

It's also a dish made by hashing up odds and ends of food; a heterogeneous mixture; a hodge-podge; a ragout; a confused jumble; a ridiculous medley; a promiscuous (!) assemblage of persons.

Those of you who know me, will, I’m sure, understand how well some of these phrases (barring the "promiscuous" bit!) fit me.

More importantly, this blog is an ode to my love for Shimla. I hope to show you this little town through my eyes. If you don't see too many people in it, forgive me, because I'm a little chary of turning this into a human zoo.

Stop by for a spell, look at my pictures, ask me questions about Shimla, if you wish. I shall try and answer them as best as I can. Let's be friends for a while....

27 February 2009

Hazy shade of winter....

Most people seem to associate spring with colours. But winter has colours too. Beautiful ones at that. There are shades and shades of grey and white and lilac and blue. I find this season enticing and full of possibilities, much more than any other season. When young, I loved autumn, for autumn in Kashmir is a swirl of red, rust, persimmon, coral, flame-orange and taupe. Winter, buried under a cover of snow, was mostly white, white and white. Or maybe, I wasn't looking at it as I look at winter in Shimla.
Shimla's hazy shades of winter as Paul Simon would call them.







Time, time, time, see whats become of me

While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around, leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
Thats an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around, the grass is high
The fields are ripe, its the springtime of my life

Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Wont you stop and remember me
At any convenient time
Funny how my memory slips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime
But look around, leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Look around, leaves are brown
Theres a patch of snow on the ground...

(Paul Simon, 1966, Bookends)






1 comment:

Deep Sea said...

Hi, am a first time visitor to your blog...came across it through criss-crosing links while looking fo information on Himachal and Shimla. And have already spent a long time reading through some of your posts. Great photos, expecially these ones of mist.

Interesting blog. Am glad I came across it. I'll be adding a link to it, on my blog (hope that is okay).

And, look forward to visiting again.

Cheers.

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