The moon watcher

A small little gap through the window, 

And from there it was peeping alright! 

With the borrowed light from the long gone Sun, 

Fighting with the darkest of night

Just like love, just like hope.. 

Being enough, for tonight!

You remain in me

The end is seldom the end,

It just merges in forever.

And you remain.

In the pain that gnaws at peaceful sleep,

The promises of tomorrow that we didn't keep,

In the melted kohl that smudges the eyes,

You remain in me.

You remain in me

like the darkness that doesn't budge,

even after the lies of love;

the forgotten song, the unfinished poem,

in the tears that's not wiped may be!
The un-born dream and the unheard scream;


You remain in me.

The flight

And then the dusty, windy road becomes the golden sky
the cage becomes the cocoon,
I don't trudge along,
I fly.

cheers to tears!

Okay, so now it is confirmed. I belong to the never-at-peace, ever-stressed, over sentimental, obsessive and silly group of moms. I have accepted defeat in trying to be the casual, chilled out kind. I am out of that league.

I should have understood the day I just could not stop tears from streaming down my cheeks when my 3.5 year old ones performed on stage, jiggling and wriggling to the tunes of "mera desh rangeela". In spite of my utter embarrassment at the silliness of the happy tears.
And it was last night, that I finally put a stamp of the afore mentioned adjectives to myself, much to the dismay of my seasoned, no-nonsense egoist soul!

Because last night was a sleepless night, with me tossing and turning in between series of retrospection and rebuke! Retrospecting if I have ever been restless or anxious before the first day of my school or colleges, and rebuking myself for being so on account of kids going to school the next day!

Yes, my kids went to school today! First formal school at 4.5 years of age, holding on to my fingers and taking baby steps towards future. Specks of tears sparkling in their eyes as they let go of my hands.

I wish I could allay all their fears, I wish I could make the world as beautiful and upbeat as they see in world of Disneys and Nickelodeans. But like they will figure out one day soon, that the world, though beautiful, has its share of darkness. Life for them too will come with its share of tears and pain along with many smiles and galore of  laughter. There will be much bigger challenges than going to school! They will have to make tougher journeys, trudge along unknown roads and alleys of life than coming to the safe haven of School. I wish I could just tell them that today.

I wish I could tell them that, though this silly hyper mommy will be restless many more nights for them in days to come, but still will square her shoulders and walk with them to stand at the threshold of every challenge they ever face. Till the time they need me to. I don't ever want to be their "bridge over troubled water'', but I want to help them learn to swim through the rough tide. And when they emerge victorious from life's challenges, I will fight back my tears, yet again.

 

Till that day, I subjugate to the ordeals of being the hyper, over sensitive, inanely sentimental mom and celebrate every day and night (even the sleepless ones) of it!
Cheers to self discovery!
 

Adios Mi Amor

When the twilight engulfs the day's dreams,
when the azure turns blush
will you remember me, my love
In the hours of golden rush!

The dreams of forever that is always a lie
I lost my way in the maze;
groping in the dark for your hands to hold,
your silhouette in the tears' haze

Was it a rainbow that we had chased,
A butterfly dancing in tunes of love;
Oh what a reverie it was,
The flight of thousand doves.

 The rainbow was gone all too soon,
darkness came like a veiled friend.
But in the twilight I see you standing tall,
just around the Life's bend

Adios mi amor,
until we meet again.
I will feel you in the rays of sneaking sun
and the abundant drizzle of pain.






 

Little Boxes

Pete Seeger, the famous American folk singer and social activist, sang decades back about "little boxes".

"Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
       Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same..."

Box like houses, exactly alike in appearance, alike in expectations from life, alike in their middleclass conformity. The song always struck a chord and the boxes always intrigued me. No wonder they are making their way in to my blog!

 

Boxes. In other words, social conformity. The invisible boundaries that society imposes on us. Of course, without boundaries, we the notorious species called homo sapiens will run amock with chaos and mayhem everywhere. So, yes, boxes are a social necessity perhaps. But when we put our mind in that box too and refuse to see the blue of the sky lurking from some open corner, crippling ensues. When we love the boxes so much that we are threatened if we can't relate to another human being without the reference frame of the social conditioning, the boxes become cages.
 

The socially defined boxes in our mind keeps dictating us at every cross road of life. We are used to putting our feelings, our relationships, our whole life in to the boxes that undergo social scanning. We need relationships with tags of social approval to feel comfortable. One human being, reaching out to another is not of any value, unless you can put defined and acceptable tags to that relationship. It tells us that love is hardly even understandable unless you can put a label of social conformity!

Need to be acknowledged, need to be accepted is a basic human psychological need. But in a desperation to achieve that, so many times we our selves become a social commodity. Individuality is the price to pay when you need to conform at any cost! We need to marry at a certain age, make babies at a certain age, obey certain functional or dysfunctional commandments of society in order to have breathing space. Otherwise we are failures, we are outcasts.

 

How dark must be the despair when a successful intelligent young girl feels like an outcaste because she didn't fit in to a defined social box of "being married at the right time". How heart-breaking it must be when parents leave their kids hands when something could not be put in the boxes they believed to be right for their kids. Be it career, be it finding a partner or even sexuality. How painful, when your "friends" avoid you because you make them feel uncomfortable by standing by your unconventional beliefs.

 

I agree, boxes feel safe. The usual, the predictable has a sense of security around it. Its like getting a tick mark against your name from society. Tick marks; something that we are so fond of seeing, since the time we start going to school. They mean approval. They mean we are accepted as being part of the herd. They mean we are not alone. But do they mean happiness? Do they mean freedom? Do they mean being compatible with your own self? Does, not being alone, guarantee not being lonely?

  

Of course society changes with time. It is changing as I write too perhaps. But somewhere the roots of social conditioning are so deep, the dogmas are so stifling that its scary to stand apart. We are comfortably numb by a state of social hypnosis and no longer feel the pain of being exactly alike each other in our limitations.
 

So, today, if I could seek something for the generations to come, it would be their strength to stand apart, it would be their ability to choose fearless conviction over social conformity. After all, how wonderful is a world where your mind can take a fearless flight in an open sky. Where we don't cage ourselves in social dogmas. Where we can develop our individuality without being judged, learn to embrace emotions and value relationships.


Too much of a dream, eh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not the best job in the world

People these days tell me that I am doing the "the greatest job" on earth right now. Facebook posts scream the glory of this greatest job, where there are no holidays, involves multi-tasking, many hardships and does not have remuneration. Some disillusioned souls even tell me that it’s a thankless job, after all!

Yes, am talking about the glorified job of motherhood.
And risking sounding like the most self-centered mother on this planet, I wholeheartedly disagree. It surely is not the best job on earth. Nor it is the most difficult or the most rewarding or the most glorified one! 

Simply because, it is not a "job".

The psychological ramifications of this so called greatest job or the noblest sacrifice are far and wide. For example, the "socially aware" post that keeps circulating on social media that proudly proclaims how mothers never retire from their job. While the father retires from the office job, the mother simply goes around the house, cooking and washing dirty utensils and stuff. Or the subtle social expectations that the mother will always have to toil the hardest to win a place in the hearts of her clan. Irrespective of the tag of a working mother or otherwise, unless they churn out the yummiest food on the plate, take the children to the best basketball camp, arrange for the most interesting birthday party; they have failed. Failed to themselves at least.

These posts and other social innuendo which tells me that now my life is about raising my children, sacrificing my life, my individual dreams and aspiration, leaves me a little sad, a little confused, slightly annoyed and guilty of feeling confused, sad and annoyed! And thus this post, to clarify my stand to myself (and if anyone else is interested to listen, err read).

I don't know about others, but I sure am not doing any "job" in raising my children. Greatest or toughest or otherwise. I am just honoring a relationship. The most beautiful relationship, with two most precious people of my life. I gave birth to them. I spoke to them, sang to them when they were taking shape inside me. Obviously the relationship is special. They are tiny now, they are dependent on me. Thus my responsibilities are little more for them. But every relationship has its responsibilities, every relationship has its commitment and every relationship needs some amount of sacrifice! There can't be anything bigger or smaller in relationships. They are all different. My relationship with my mother should be and is equally important to me as my relationship with my children. Yes, the tenets are different. 

My children are not my weakness. They are my strength. They show me how beautiful it is when the only abiding rule in a relationship is unconditional love. Yes, I have changed as a person when I chose to be a mother. Some of the changes might be qualified as a "sacrifice" too! My "me time" has reduced to almost being non-existent. But that's because it has been replaced with "we time". The never ending snuggles, the story times, the peekaboo, the crazy nameless and often meaningless games. That’s my life line right now. And the funny part, this frenzied time will blur in to being a beautiful memory very soon. My boys will grow up. They won't need me to play peekaboo too long. They will have their own world. They won’t depend on me to bathe, feed and put them to sleep. But I know that our relationship will evolve for better with each passing day. I will be their friend, their mentor, their support system and their emotional anchor at different stages of our lives. Motherhood is a choice. A much cherished choice. I am not losing myself in them, I am finding my self . More and more, with each passing day.

And do we take holidays in any other relationship? What amount of work we do, what responsibilities we take in our lives, depends on the equation we create with people around us and our circumstances. Sharing responsibilities, supporting each other should be the rule and not the exception. We never retire from being a sister or a daughter or a father for that matter. Why should we retire from being a mother! Motherhood is not sacrifice, motherhood is not a social expectation to be ticked off, motherhood is not servitude, motherhood is not a job. It is a choice, it is a journey, it is a relationship. 

And to the two precious little souls who made me embark on this journey, I wish to tell them one day:
"Because of you
I can feel myself
slowly buy surely becoming the me,
I have always dreamt to be" (Tyler Knottingley Gregson)

Meeting you....again

I met you after 5 years. 5 long years.
Our association has been long. But I never could quite figure out whether I loved you, still love you or if I hate you. You were not really a choice I guess.

You saw me after 5 years. I could not get to ask you how much change do you see in me. For, I must have changed.

To start with, I am a mother of two now. Two handsome darlings, who mean the world to me. Yes, my world has changed for sure. I have also become little brave these days I guess. May be just a tiny little bit but still a change from the time you knew me. For I am no longer petrified of ghosts, darkness, thunders or even lizards. OK, I lied. Lizards, may be still a little bit. But you dont have the luxury to be afraid when two pairs of innocent eyes are looking up to you and seeking courage from you.

Some changes must have been obvious to you I guess. May be the inches added to my waistline and reduced from the heels that I used to totter around five years back? But other than the ostensible changes, there are some good deal of re-engineering that happened on my inside too in these years. Not sure, if those were apparent to you. 

Did you realize that I have finally made peace with my self? I have finally accepted my self as the flawed, lost and may be a tad volatile human being, forever in love with life. I have left the righteous brigade some time now. Stopped trying to change myself or others. Remember, I used to question the meaning of life often when I used to be with you? Well, I no longer do. I am just happy to be overwhelmed  by life now. Last five years, I have also known loss very closely. Loss of people whom I loved, loss of relationships too. I have felt the dark despair it brings. Been enveloped with tangible darkness. I have been broken and I have also picked up the pieces again. I have also known love. Love that knows no boundaries. Love that peeks like the promise of another day to come even while the sun sets. Love that is synonymous with life itself.

 

But even while walking through this maze of life, I never forgot you. The misty feeling of early mornings when I used to walk the road to the school bus, the sweat of sultry summers, the years of hazy dreams, the beautiful feeling of finding first love, the first breakdown; nothing ever left me.

And all those tender feelings came rushing back to me when I met you again, today. I realized I have always loved you unconditionally, my dear city of joy, my dear kolkata.

My city of joy, you too have changed quite a bit in these five years. Some of your frowzy by-lanes have changed to nice wide roads and flyovers to boast now. I know all is not well. All is never well anywhere or with anyone. But today I want to bask in the good in you. And I want you to know that through love and hate, through tears and joys, in this journey of life, I have never forgotten you, nor I ever will. My dear kolkata, you will remain a part of my soul, wherever life takes me.

Todo Pasa

So, I could not sleep today. Much coveted sleep. Much more coveted was the rare chance to sleep!

But still I could not.

"Sleep", has a different connotation for mothers! Especially if you are a mother of a toddler. Even more so, if you happen to have two in place of one, like yours truly! But, I actually got a chance today. Rare chance to nap, that too in the afternoon, all by myself. Family members taking care of both my toddlers, I could sneak in to my room just to sleep! No tiny hands strangling me in sleep, no small feet kicking me in holy abandon, no one trying to sleep on my pillow leaving the entire bed seem like an abandoned football ground.

And I could not sleep.

I missed those tiny hands, the tiny feet, the battle for the pillow. So much so that I came to my long forgotten best friend and started pouring my heart out. Yes, my blog. She has been waiting for me for two years to come back to her. And I didn’t come to her. I was busy ruffling the two unruly crops of hair, kissing them million times, wiping their tears when they fell while trying to walk, jump or run. Between cleaning poop, trying to feed, putting to sleep, I was busy discovering my own self. I was lost in the songs my two year old sings, holding my face and looking in to my eyes. I still am. I am maddeningly in love with a tiny voice which says “mamma, sho” ("lie down beside me", in Bengali), so that he can snuggle with me. I am busy savouring each moment of being a mom. Each tired, sleep deprived, blog forgotten, unsocial moment.

And I know this too shall pass. “Todo pasa y todo queda” (everything passes and everything stays). That’s the way life goes. Very soon, they will not need me the way they need me today. Their world will become so vast that "mamma" will be only a tiny part in it. The world of mittens and booties will be replaced by soccer shoes may be! The tiny hands that tug at my neck and my heart, will be holding books and pens and laptops and what not. My babies will become men one day, quite soon.

But till the day passes, I welcome one more sleepless night trying to fit in the bed with both of them. I look forward to the snuggles, the endless games of hide and seek, the endless feeding tantrums, the drawings on the walls, the scribblings on my notebook. Let me sing endless lullabies even when I am exhausted after a hard day at work. Let me love being a mommy of two naughty toddlers , just for some more time.

Precious moments, don’t go away so fast that I can’t blink my eyes, in fear that these fairy-tale moments will be all gone soon.

Time, wait for this silly mommy to grow up too!

To write or not to write

It has been a year since I touched my blog, quite literally. Reasons being manifold. Some were practical, like the never solvable issue of balancing time and priorities. But more than that, I realized off-late that it is actually a quasi-emotional, unanswered question in my mind that is bothering and stopping me to write. And perhaps to find an answer, I am back at the black buttons of my small system, listening carefully to the 'tut tut's of typing (yes, my obsolete system makes noise!) to find an answer. Writing has always been a way of thinking aloud for me.

The question that kept bothering me was why should I write at all! I am not a writer. I neither have a 'gift of writing', nor I have many people interested to read what I have to say! Then, (notwithstanding my dear brother's incessant motivation), why should I write! The more I pondered over the question, the more diverse questions unfolded in my mind. One of the most important among them: why do people write? These days, every other person seems to have a blog. Many, I guess, write to share or connect at a personal level. And when they have a gift of writing, its an absolute pleasure to read. Then there is a group of bloggers who blog about things they are good at. Makes for delightful readings again. I also know of many who have a blog because its fashionable or profitable to do so. Recently, I came across a salesman turned psychological counsellor who has a blog where he writes stuff profound! Don't get me wrong, I am not judgemental enough to find a conflict between a person's profession and 'passion' but it felt funny to read his advices on relationships when I happened to know that he isn't really great at interpersonal relationship himself! Big stuff written to attract clients eh! True, blogs are a good platform for marketing.

Now, why only blogs! These days everyone seems to turn a book writer and do great business too! And to my dismay, most of the authors are smart, fashionable, "could have been a model if not a writer" women! The jealous green eyed monster in me ogles in dismay as they pose happily in their ultra fashionable clothes and high-heels and ooze glamour! Add to that a gang of writers from IIMs and IITs! Successful in their professional world, earning big bucks and typing away and churning out novels from their Ipads and other gizmos. Oh my! whatever happened to my old world idea of writers who churn out stuff burning midnight oil, sitting in attics! Or whatever happened to Rainer Rilke's (the Austrian poet) advice to wannabe authors that one should write only when one wants nothing else in life. Or may be Hemingway's suggestion that to write one should sit down at the typewriter and bleed. Now, I could not identify myself in any of the categories. And looking at literary magazines these days which can give any fashion magazine a run for money any day, I guess my confidence took daily beatings and made the small clumsy writer in me hide in a corner!

But, as they say, old habits die hard. The magic of these black and white ramblings get to me at odd times! They find me when life greets me, they find me in my darkest hour and they also find me when I am lost in search of myself. So I closed all fancy literary magazines, stopped trying to analyse every blog that I stop by and also stopped taking Rilke or Hemingway's advice too seriously! And here I am, back at my silly small laptop, sitting beside my tiny baby, who might revolt anytime now for not getting enough attention for quite some time and typing away to Lord's glory. Because, I finally found my answer. I am writing because I love to write. Because writing finds me at odd times.
 So, whatever the reason whoever is writing,lets say cheers and lets carry on our love affair with writing. Writing, after all, is a way of talking without being interrupted (Jules Renard). So, lets keep the chatter on, with each other and with our own selves. Who knows, some day, some great stuff might come out from our pens (err keypads) too, which the world might want to listen to!

Of relations and relating!

Few days back, I came across one of Osho's saying, where he said love is about relating and not about relationships. This got me thinking and finally the whispers in my head became so loud that I had to pen it down!

Much ado has been made about love and relationships, esp the romantic man-woman love and I am no different to not try and have my share of voice on this topic! :)

So yes, when Osho said love is about relating to someone and not about a relationship, I paused a bit and looked around and within! True, in our unwise mind, love is always equated with a relationship. From our childhood, we nurture the fantasy of falling in love and getting married (may not be always in that order). Somehow, love without a sense of permanency, leaves us feeling insecure. We desperately need a "relationship", a socially approved one if possible. So much so, that we forget the basic fact, that love is actually about relating unconditionally to some one. Relating to some ones joys, sorrows, pain, insecurities, weaknesses and many subtle shades of emotion!

As I look around me, I find relationships where people do not relate to each other at all! For e.g- what would you say when a wife cant share the salary hike she received at work place with her husband! They have stopped relating to each others success, joys perhaps long back! But still they are in a so called successful relationship....a marriage lasting for years! Or may be where the partner accuses the other half of flirting with every one of the opposite sex and still continues to be in that relationship! Are they relating to each other! Or what happens when a person who used to be the wind beneath the wings of another, turns only interested to clip the wings after they are in a "relationship"! Is it because they transitioned from relating to each other to a relationship! Well, I am no spiritual guru and forget answers, I do not even have the questions correct most of the times! But I am so tired of seeing relationships all around me where people actually do not relate to each other at all, ready to tear apart each other, not hesitating for a moment to insult and abuse! I wonder what is the point of intimacy, emotional or otherwise, where there is no respect, where you cant trust unconditionally, where you cant reach out even without being called! Are we only in love with the idea of love and rest is all a matter of convenience, including relationships!

May the Almighty give all of us enough love to never stop relating to our loved ones, beyond the tag of a relationship!

Amen! :)

"There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met"

A mop of white hair neatly tied in a bun, shriveled skin, feeble voice and tentative steps; that is how I remember her! It was a flight from Bangalore to Kolkata and she was sitting next to me. She must have been over 70 and not quite "well dressed".

I generally prefer not to talk to strangers, esp on flights. The reasons are manifold. One of them is that though I am quite fond of instant coffee and other instant food items, I do not believe in "instant friendships" :). And the other very prominent reason being, my abhorrence to the typical Indian way of trying lurk in to your life, even given a chance of a frivolous conversation on weather and sports! So, I cling to the book in hand with all might and avoid all conversations, even at the cost of being judged "snooty"!

So, when I went and sat next to her, my only impression was that of an usual elderly lady, who will be willing to talk all the way till the plane lands and whom I must avoid. I was passing through one of the turbulent phases of my life that time and was in no mood to hear the usual story of  "successful IT professional son settled in Bangalore" or worse still "daughter married to successful IT professional settled in Bangalore" from a proud Bengali parent. Well, no offence meant to anyone, but that is what generally is the conversation thread if you do get bundled up in a Bangalore Kolkata flight, sitting next to an elderly lady!

So it was uncanny when she didn't make an attempt to talk even after almost an hour of take off and rather out came an Agatha Cristie novel from her purse! Yes, it was a surprise. I might have expected a Bengali daily or a weekly magazine but surely not an Agatha Cristie book. She intrigued me more because though she herself reminded me of the Bengali version of miss Marple, she wasn't reading any of her fictional works. It was "Come, tell me how you live", the autobiography of Agatha Cristie, that she was reading! And yes, Agatha Cristie broke the ice between us and we started talking.

It turned out that she was avid reader and spoke impeccable English, again not something that I would have expected. And, in next one and a half hours of flight time she broke quite a few of  my assumptions. For one, she never asked me beyond where I stayed in Bangalore. No, not even what I do for a living or whether I am married or not! And yes, she did have one daughter who stayed in Bangalore but again nothing beyond that. Never spoke about why she was travelling alone or where she lived. But we did talk about Agatha Cristie, P.G. Wodehouse and some famous Bengali authors like Ashapurna Devi and Shirshendu Mukhopadhaya. She turned out to be a retired school teacher. In no time our conversations turned towards philosophies of Life. Though we didn't discuss about our personal lives and nor she gave me any unsolicited advice, she said something that I will always remember. She said that with all the years that has gone on making all her hair white, she has only learnt one thing: no point in "trying" to be happy, no point in pursuing happiness. Life will unfold itself with all its color like a kaleidoscope if only you know how to turn the leaves, if only you know how to "be" in it!
Not soon after this, it was time for landing and since she was using special assistance from the airlines, she was wheeled out on the wheel chair first.

I didnt get a chance to ask her name or address. And for the first time I realized how much value an interaction with a stranger can also bring! I was humbled and was also embarrassed because I had judged her in the beginning.

In that particularly troubled phase of my life, some her words of wisdom struck a chord and helped me perhaps more than that of many a solicited advice. People say that God has strange ways of showing you the way only if you look out! I have often wondered if this interaction with a stranger was one such! I have often searched for her in all Kolkata bound flights since then, whenever I have traveled  but never found her again.

But one thing is for sure, I have opened up more to conversations with strangers since then. Though I agree, most of the times it is still the same proud moms of software engineers or bored housewives who are eager to talk, but hey, no harm in looking around! :) You never know what lessons of Life you might get to learn  from even a casual encounter!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The end, which was the beginning

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

It was a classroom full of young girls. Girls of about 16 years of age. Some pony tailed, some pimpled and all smiling. As I close my eyes, I can easily be transported in that summer afternoon, the last day of our high school, just before our board exams. I don't remember who had sneaked in a camera that day. Because, some 19 years back, in a school where most students were from Bengali middle class families, cameras were a rarity! But thankfully, for that very simple non-digital camera, one of the most precious moments of my life got captured, forever!

 Yes, this is the photograph taken on the last day of our high school. After that day, depending on our marks and interests, we would be drifting in different streams, may be different schools or colleges. In an age where mobiles were not heard of and telephones at home were only for the rich, this day almost meant end of many friendships, many associations. Well, ten years of association is a hard thing to let go. Familiar faces, the feeling of security once we were inside the big walls that used to look ominous then, the teachers who scolded us and loved us, the nooks and corners where secrets were shared, confessions were made about first crushes; it was uncertain if it was a time to let go of all of it!

All of us had sang a Tagore song after the picture was taken: 'Purano shei diner katha, bhulbi ki re...", which in English means something like how can we forget the dear memories of past. And after that we had all broken down in silent,(and some not so silent) tears. We were still too young to understand that life was all about continuous change. We were still not prepared to face the hard fact that life is also a process of letting go, sometimes of most dearest things. I remember that we were all sitting at our desks even after the last bell rang! We were all in tears, hugging each other; touched by the gravity of the moment. Something was about to change. Wind of change was about to touch us. And there we were, poised with excitement and apprehension to turn the leaf of our first major chapter of life.

Today when I look at that snap, I only see the age of innocence. Oh, how happy we all looked. How carefree. Ready to take on the world, most of us still in utopia about what life is going to be. The adventure of adulthood was ahead of us. We were about to step out of the shelters of school and in to the big bad world. So many things unexplored yet. Life's kaleidoscope was about to turn. And here was a group of girls, waiting with bated breath for "Life" to unfold.

Almost 19 years have passed since then. I don't know why, even today when I look at this snap, it fills me with a strange sense of happiness and even strength! Is it because I still can palpably feel the strength of innocence, of  unconditional faith in goodness, which sometimes is so difficult to touch-base with in my life today! May be!

Hasta la vista, dear Daddy

Father's day came and went last month. Generally, all such days do not even cause slightest ripple in my mind. But strangely, this time, it made me remember my father. My father who left us last November. With so many people posting comments in facebook about their father being their hero, it made me think about my father, about things that I have learnt from him, about my love and gratitude which perhaps I could never express adequately. And though blogposts are not really a platform to share personal feelings, I had to give them a rightful vent. After all, it is kind of my own e-diary!

My dad was not my hero. That role was always played by mom :). In fact what my dad taught me, what I learnt from him has started to emerge only after he passed away! Till the time he was alive, he was always a source of unconditional love and affection with a kind of role reversal between him and me in his last couple of years.

As the intense pain and denial is passing away, as I am letting go of the images of my ailing, struggling father on ventilator, I am starting to remember him, think of him as he used to be in his prime and now I realize what I learnt from him.

Well, my father taught me to smile. He taught me to be happy even when things were not perfect. Without giving me lectures, without ever admonishing, he taught me this very important lesson with all his life.

His expectations were always minimal from me. He never ever asked me to do well in exams, to earn well, to make my mark in life. But he did ask me to be happy. Many a times he used to ask me to smile when I would get angry or agitated. He was a fun person to be with. Seldom speaking about his tribulations, his expectations, he was always loving us. I know he felt inadequate many a times and fumbled with so many things when he was growing old and struggling with his failing health. But he never used to show any of it. Affable, funny and lively- he struck a chord with whomever he interacted. His smile touched everybody. His love for life was immense.

He often used to say "hasta la vista"("see you later" in Spanish) and wave at me when I would leave him for going to work when he would be staying with us in Bangalore. But it was finally me, who had to say goodbye to him, without a hope of meeting ever again.

I wish I could give you more reasons to smile Baba. I wish I could ease off all your pain. I could not. I know you have forgiven me for all my failings. And I promise Baba, I will always remeber your happy, smiling face, the image of you posing smartly with my college friends for a snap, you waving me good bye from my balcony, you saying "hasta la vista" smilingly to me.

Baba I will always miss you, but I promise I will never let go of the values you taught me without ever speaking a word! Father's day or not, I will always carry you in my heart.

Keep walking, my friend

Recently a song from the recent hindi movie, Ek Main Aur Ek Tu caught my attention so much that it is forcing its way to my blog post! :)

It goes something like this

"Jo hua hai woh hota hain, jo hona hain woh hona hain,
jo tere bas mein baatein hain, unhe khamokha kyun khona hain...
jitni bhi hain umeed  leke, jaye kahan tak rastein dekhe...
kar chalna shuru tu, mud ke na dekh tu..."

Its so true..life is nothing but a journey! A journey which ultimately leads to finding your own self! Whether you get someone to walk side by side with you or not, you got to make the journey. Now, how many of us really take this journey being aware of it! Most of us are kind of sleep walking through it! Not knowing which path we are taking, overlooking the beauty of the road. It is true that most of the times we are not sure where the road will ultimately lead us, and sometimes we are even confused as to where we want to finally end up! But as long as we know where we don't want to end up, I guess the journey is an ever interesting one!

It is important to take that one small step which makes you embark on the journey of finding yourself! Its important to break free if anything is holding back your spirit. It might boil down to something as small as starting on the dance lessons that you so wanted for ages, or may be starting to write without the fear of being criticized or may be taking up that tough job which you always eyed but never had the guts to take up or may be something as simple as learning to drive! Dreams need to be alive. Life cannot be just living but feeling alive! :)

It is true that every time every aspiration can't be fulfilled, every dream can't come true either. But the fun lies in loving every effort that you put in and its an amazing feeling to try to touch the intangible and delve deep within to find your dreams!

May we never be afraid of this journey called Life and love to keep walking! May we all become like Sindbad the sailor who was never afraid to chase his dreams! And if we are fortunate enough, we might find a friend, a loved one to hold hands and walk side by side, if not, we will still have the satisfaction of making this journey and Life itself will become our greatest muse!

Greatest love of all!

Today is Valentine's day. A day meant for celebration of love. While growing up, like most urban teenagers, this day meant a day of wearing red, expecting a card or exchanging gifts and well, celebrating the idea of love! Today, after many springs have passed by, I remain as wide eyed about love as I was a decade back! However, the definition and the dimensions seem to be ever evolving. Thus, I thought it is high time at least I touch base with myself on this crazy journey of love and life! :)

Once, the idea of love (romantic love to be precise) was just about being wanted, it was matter of high self esteem and may be even ego! Possessing and being possessed was a necessary part of the feeling!

Times have passed. Like everyone, I too have evolved! Some knowingly and some unknowingly- willingly and unwillingly. Irrespective of the books on psycho-philosophy or the mushy romantic novels that I read, wise (and unwise) people with whom I spoke to, love has come to be defined to me as a process of self discovery, of awakening! Domestic love, bohemian love, love without definition- all seem to have only one climax of finding ones self! And yes, of loving oneself.

I have always loved the song (greatest love of all) by Whitney Houston which goes:

I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows

If I fail, if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe

No matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity

Because the greatest love of all, is happening to me

I found the greatest love of all, inside of me

The greatest love of all, is easy to achieve

Learning to love yourself/It is the greatest love of all.

But, is it really easy to learn to love yourself? Is it easy to draw a line between Narcissism/self obsession and self awakening? For people like me whose life most of the time seems to be dominated by numerous mundane things  like meeting the project deadlines and domestic expectations, I wonder how easy it is to make this journey!

Today, as I grapple with the meaning of life and love, they just seem synonymous! To me, today, the journey of life and journey of love are inseparable, intertwined. If we forget to celebrate love, we forget to celebrate life! If the quest to find oneself is an eternal one, so is the quest to find love! And ultimately it is the same journey!
But again, it is perhaps the most difficult task to make this journey within, connect with one's inner self, to find ones real self. To accept ones own being with all the good, bad and evil and keep loving life. Or may be living love! :)

I guess if we are ready to lose ourselves, explore within, then it is indeed possible to find ourselves too! And in some rare moments of life, when you do connect with your own self, when you do feel amazed at the breath you take every moment and fall in love with life- it all completes a full circle! Life stands still on those moments. And you find yourself, you find Love!

One of the poetries by Javed Akhtar from the film, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara that has touched my heart and echoed my thoughts would perhaps sum it all up:

Pighle neelam sa behta ye sama,
neeli neeli si khamoshiyan,
na kahin hai zameen na kahin aasmaan,
sarsaraati hui tehniyaan pattiyaan,
keh raheen hai bas ek tum ho yahan,
bas main hoon,
meri saansein hain aur meri dhadkanein,
aisi gehraiyaan, aisi tanhaiyaan,
aur main… sirf main.
Apne hone par mujhko yakeen aa gaya.

A Special Rendezvous

Yes, you got that right...I am going to write about a wonderful time I spent some days back with a special person. Yes...it was a very special time...one on one, sharing my most intimate thoughts and feelings... the meaningless hustle and bustle of the world going by me in a blur...I felt so alive....

Well, it had to be so special....because it was a date with my dear old self :).

Hmmn, let me clarify it for my friends...no buddies, I have not become delusional. I am not having 3rd person hallucinations either...I am just referring to a small piece of time I spent just for myself. Doing things only for me, consciously and not out of compulsion. And I cherished it.

Now you will tell me what’s special in it? We all spend time with our own selves..that’s kind of "by default' configuration, isn’t it? Well, if you are one of those persons acutely aware of your being, love yourself consciously, are exactly aware what you want and what you don’t, then....CONGRATULATIONS (and this post is not meant for you)! But I and many people like me I presume are not so lucky to have got this right!

Most of the time we live life in a kind of "default' mode...doing routine things...juggling many responsibilities, finding 24 hours quite less to fulfill all our roles. Either we are always looking for happiness in other people...whether our spouse brought us the coveted gift...whether our dear ones treated us well...did our friends remember to wish us on our birthdays etc... or otherwise we are trying our best to make others happy...what to cook special for someone special...what to buy for our dear ones so that it brings a smile to their face...what to wear so that the spouse appreciates...so on and so forth...somewhere somehow we give too much importance to "others"..don’t you think so? The "I" within us becomes blurred...our own existence start taking a backseat.So much so we sometimes even lose touch not only with our dreams but also with our own weaknesses. As of we don’t really "live" but we float from one day to another with lot of superficial junk on our plate but nothing substantial. Though we are acutely aware of the coveted promotion at work that we are eyeing, we forget that once upon a time we loved to paint or sing or dance. Not to win a prize in a competition but just for our own happiness! We don’t want to face our fears, because where is the time to connect with our own self. It’s much easier to switch on the idiot box at the end of the day and keep moving from one meaningless day to another.

Since this realization has dawned on me in recent past, I consciously took some time out for myself. No husband...no friends...no family etc. Went to a shopping mall first (well you see the rendezvous had be in a safe place as well!)...roamed about aimlessly for a long while. Picked up a book which I wanted for a long time...consciously avoiding the thought of "what to cook for dinner" and thus the inevitable grocery shopping as well. Took a seat by the window in a cafeteria and tried talking to myself (well no..not loudly of course).

"So how’s it going buddy!" I asked myself."With all the conscious decisions that you have made in life, all the compromises, the selfishness that you have showed, the mistakes that you have made, all the love that you have shared...with all of that...how is going so far?"

I consciously tried thinking of the nagging issues that gnaws at my heart every now and then...it was a difficult situation. It was much easier to eye the young teenage couple who was sitting just in front of me (hand in hand..lost in their dreams!)...but I managed to come back to my own precious date (that's me! ;))...After 3 cups of tea and a steaming hot pasta, I did say to myself... 'Well thanks for the date and I think I am doing pretty good".

I am doing good because I could afford this rendezvous with myself. I am doing good because I am alive! I count each of my breaths to be a blessing. I thank God for this precious experience called Life! And I am ready to face the challenges that come on my way. I know I will stumble, I know I will fall as well...but as long as I enjoy the journey, I will never lose!

My special date came to an end not too long after this..but thankfully, I didn't have to bid good bye to my date and I promised to never again to lose touch of my own inner self.

I wish when we grow up, all of us are told to value our own selves first...not in a narcissistic/egotistic way. But in a sense that we are true to our being...to be able to acknowledge our deeper virtues as well as vices. To be able to see the beauty of our mind as well as face the demon within....to be able to not shy away to face our fears...so that we are accountable to what we do...how we live.... so that we can answer our own self and not seek answers elsewhere.. So that we never let the tiny inner voice within us lose its existence!

Let me say in tune of a very famous song of Whitney Houston:

I decided long ago, never to walk in any one's shadows
If I fail, if I succeed

At least I live as I believe

No matter what they take from me
They can't take away my dignity
Because the greatest love of all
Is happening to me

I found the greatest love of all

Inside of me

The greatest love of all

Is easy to achieve

Learning to love yourself

It is the greatest love of all.

(One one small word of caution....let us not only love ourselves..but also love ourselves! :) )