Everyday Lessons

As I was getting coffee for myself the other day at a popular cafe, I caught myself looking at the young woman serving me. Her clothes were fashionably torn, tattoos galore and sporting various arrays of piercing. Her fashion statement and mine were worlds apart and I found myself passing judgment. Instinctively, (being mindfully aware) I disliked that thought. I was ashamed of myself. Then there came the knee-jerk reaction, something inside me shouting, “How dare you pass judgment, you don’t even know her!” It was that inner-voice, deep inside—the one that’s usually errr… always right.

I quieted and went through the process of asking myself, “Why did this come up for me? Where did it start? How long ago?” Memories flooded forward. How many times in my elementary and high school years was I witness to the fashion police and received a verbal summons if the attire was not in vogue. Those were impressionable years. Confidence and I were still getting to know each other. So speaking my mind and standing up for another/myself was a Herculean feat. All too often I found myself going along with the group.

It was not... until I entered a relationship (got lawfully engaged) that things began to change. I noticed even though some things made me uncomfortable in the beginning, I began to understand the other perspective. I have begun to learn to let go stuff that doesn’t probably fit in my scheme of things but are an imperative part of his world. I was not going to curb his self expression even though it may muffle my voice for a moment.

I took another look at the young woman serving me. She had a tattoo on her wrist, I had a beautiful henna design adorning my hands.  She had piercings all over her face—while I was flaunting huge antique traditional earrings in my ears. How different were we really? We were both expressing our taste.

She handed me my coffee and off I went. I hoped to see her again. She taught me to pause, reprocess, breathe open my eyes and not be quick to judge. She was just another version of my inner voice, wasn’t’ she?.

So when you look at someone and find yourself passing judgment pause and introspect…..

See if you can step back from being the fashion/ moral/ judgemetal police and realize we are all different. If Unity is strength, Diversity is empowerment. Look out for the positive characteristics this person exhibits. Were they polite, kind, friendly, did they make eye contact? What was it? There is always something wonderful in every person! How very boring this world would be if we all were baked in the same oven, with same ingredients and at the same temperature. J

Just a thought…..

Mother's Day

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world

Mitch Albom’s book and George Cooper’s poem serve to be the perfect combination as one slips into Mother's Day celebrations.....

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,
Hundreds of shells on the shore together,
Hundreds of birds that go singing by,
Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather.

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the wide world over.

~George Cooper~

I heard these beautiful lines as my Grade 3 teacher recited them slowly and articulately to my young mind. The significance of the poem has not changed since then…..

Mother - a word that reminds us of all warmth and love. She dedicates each day to us, so why not take this opportunity at least one day for her on Mother's Day to make her feel valuable and cherished.

The practice of celebrating the Mother is not alien to India. For thousands of years Hindus have been celebrating a ten-day festival, Durga Puja, honouring the divine mother Durga. Recently the more westernised festival of 'Mother's Day' has also come to become a part of our culture now. one day in the calendar is not enough to thank our mothers enough for all that they have been to us, it does offer an opportunity to honor and show our appreciation for our flesh and blood mother - the one person who has stood by us through good and bad times.

Buddha honoured mothers when he said, "As a mother, even at the risk of her own life, loves and protects her child, so let a man cultivate love without measure toward the whole world." While Agatha Christie affirmed, "A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path."

A book that talks about what so many of us yearn for; a chance to make good with a (lost) parent. It talks about a man called Chick Benetto. As a child, Benetto is told by his father, “You can be a mama’s boy or you can be a daddy’s boy, but you can’t be both.” So he chooses his father, and he worships him – right up to the day the man disappears. An eleven-year-old Chick must then turn to his mother, who bravely raises him on her own. Now a retired baseball player whose wife and daughter have severed ties with him Chick wants to commit suicide. But before he does so he decides to visit his old home where he was born and raised as a kid. He visits his home where he gets to spend a day with his dead mother, Posey Benetto, who died eight years ago.

“The story talks about his guilt, the times when his mother stood by him and the times when she didn’t. It is about a son who finds solace in sharing his story and feelings with his dead mother when he is disappointed with life. The story continues with what happens to Chick Benetto after visiting. He learns the things he never knew about his mother and her sacrifices. And he tries, with her tender guidance, to put the crumbled pieces of his life back together. It makes one both ponder and wonder what one would do if one got to spend a day with someone one has lost.

Mitch Albom pays homage to all mothers with this novel that beautifully shows the enduring power of a mother's love, a love so strong it can transcend even death. The book makes one reminisce along with Chick Benetto about the things you wish you had done better with your own mother.

Chick had the unheard of luxury of being able to spend just one more day with his mother who has travelled to a different world. But we folks too should not miss any opportunity to pledge our love and devotion to the hand that rocked our cradle and now rules our world.

It was the full moon and I felt the silver of it calm my heart and whole being. I was in one of my writing moods when I was flipping across pages of my notepad. The very notepad I carried to the hospital in Tamil Nadu where I was a interning for my course in counselling psychology. The shorthand-like writing or what would merely seem like a scribble to someone, for me was a mental movie that replayed itself in my mind. I was back in the Neurology ward where I met this lady in her mid-thirties. Little did I know that what I was looking as a charade was something that would teach me one of the most important lessons of love, marriage and life as a whole.

Her name for obvious reasons I cannot share here and I choose to call her Laitika, which means a creeper, which grows in the most difficult of circumstances. I introduced myself and she reached out her frail looking hands and I immediately held them in mine. Her arms felt like limp noodles which refused to move away from my touch for a very long time as she spoke about her inability to walk due to her neurological condition, the sadness she felt due to her prolonged stay in the hospital, being childless, worried about her husband who worries about her endlessly and the fear of no longer being the hero in the drama of life. The two days that followed I developed an amazing bond with her. Although I always happened to miss meeting her husband as my visiting hours always seemed to clash with his going back to the lodge, or the medical, he was an intricate part of our conversations.

The following week when I happened to enter the room I met a man; vagaries of time etched on his forehead helping Latika exercise as she sat of edge of the bed like a sponge doll, all lifeless and drained. He immediately happened to recognize me, cordially greeted me and introduced himself as Latika’s husband. Even as we spoke, discussing Latika, his hands worked in conditioned yet careful patterns on her back and arms as he helped her exercise as Latika breathed heavily. In the midst of the conversation, the man gently chided Latika for breaking her exercise routine at home which was now causing her a lot of pain and suffering. Latika flushed with embarrassment as her husband rebuked her in front of me… a complete stranger to her a week ago. In a flicker of a second, he held her puny face in his hand and gently said, “I know its not your fault. I know this problem runs in your family. But you are all I have at this moment and I can’t help worrying. Without you I shall be all alone.” For that moment, I ceased to exist for the couple who seemed to find all the happiness and support in each other. As the day blended into dust and the sunshine pouring through the window receded, I stood there motionless as the man’s words rushed to my head like a strong drink. In that humble hospital ward I saw a sick and trembling woman, blushing like a bride, with a simply red bindi on her forehead and the hospital band on her wrist as a bangle as her ornament; and this man dressed up in a lungi and an old shirt looking at her lovingly, holding her gently and yet taut enough to prevent her from falling off from the bed. It was no bollywood movie or a paragraph from Nicholas sparks book, yet it had the power to stop me in my tracks when the world around me faded into nothingness. Laitka was transformed from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan, as I stood as an eloquent testimony to the love between the couple. The creases of pain assuaged from her face as the emotional floodgates opened to subdue the sting of the present as he held his arms open and she flew into them, Nothing could be more satisfying than knowing that you can love an individual with all your mind, heart and soul and be loved in return. I realized that love is breathing life into gestured emotions that mere words fail to evince. Love is joy and sorrow spoken in equal passionate notes and with love comes sense and sensibility. I walked out of the ward more sensible and sensitive, waving them goodbye as they would pack their bags to leave for their hometown in the opposite end of the country. Our paths might never cross but I saw the most beautiful bride and the most loving groom who taught me to break the circle of selfish love that I was trying to surround myself with.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 India License.

My article on Valentines Day

I wrote this article for the Nashik Times on Valentines Day two years back...
for me this read was a dip in the nostalgic spring of the very words that came steeaming from my heart two years back....
though you bloggers will like this!!!!

Ties That Bind

A relationship that is consistent, intimate, lifeward, loving and caring can do wonders to your life…

Emotions are the breeze which sets our heart aflutter. Feelings of acceptance, sublimity, sensitivity, compassion, thoughtfulness, endurance, flexibility and tolerance…all rolled into one make a relationship beautiful and worth cherishing. Two individuals grow in a relationship and bloom into better human-beings nurturing and guiding each other through.
With love comes sense and sensibility. Unlike infatuation love is a steady blaze which lights the life of both the ones who light it and receive the light. Infatuation is an intense feeling of elation while love is exhilaration coupled with a sense of maturity and responsibility of the other individual. Kirti Pandya, who has recently tied the nuptial knot shares, “One often confuses infatuation with love. A good-looking individual or a charming personality passing by may attract your attention; but only after knowing a person properly can love come into the picture.”
Well said. Love is eternal and everything else is ephemeral. Two people basically come together because they share the same set of values or core principles of life and desire similar things from life as a whole. It does not matter much if their personal interests, likes and dislikes towards material things differ from one another.
SK Singh and his wife, a doting couple who are looking forward to their 30th anniversary, when asked about the secret of a lifelong union slip into a nostalgic mode as they speak their heart out, “It’s pretty easy to fall in love or for that matter simply feel the emotion. But what is important is to experience a constancy of feelings and emotions for the other person. Even after years of marriage the basic care, concern and responsibility for each other, one’s needs and happiness have remained constant. The feelings are mutual and that is what makes a relationship truly beautiful.”
A number of relationship experts and marital counselors lay a lot of emphasis on communication in a relationship. It’s not only essential to be a good listener but be ready to talk things out with your partner if things are going the way you anticipate instead of simply blaming each other or getting tangled in the ‘taken for granted syndrome’ which will threaten the relationship in the long run.
The road to a joyful affiliation with your partner may not always be a path of roses. A few pebbles or grunge may lie on the pathway. Mind you! There will be bends on the road too. Maybe the cruel pace of life with grueling professional schedules and other obligations will grind out your time for each other. But trust, faith, accepting each other’s shortcomings, understanding and appreciating the differences and more importantly spending quality time with each other will see you through. And last but not the least you have to love and respect yourself; because you cannot give to another individual what you do not have for yourself. And nothing is more satisfying than knowing that you can love an individual with all your mind, heart and soul and be loved in return.

Falling from grace


Adrenalin oozed out. Outraged rants bombarded news channels and newspapers screamed of heartache and anguish. The Mumbai attacks cut open urban India and has exposed flesh bones et al. Everybody whether directly affected or just witnessing the event on the other side of the TV were talking about the territorial and emotional assault on the financial nerve center. All was loud and bright until the dazzle of elections weakened the wick of the candle.

Indeed, couple of months back our tricolour nation took to streets, soul-stirring sms, e-mails and online petitions driving you to play your part and do your bit that you can to make the world a better place to live in. The cream of the crop found their activist voices that apparently fizzed out in a while. And now we're all back to work. The epidemic that everyone was down with soon wiped every essence of its presence. Looks like the movie Ghajini talk about a commonplace disorder…short-term memory loss. For the state of memory of the aam junta is not really different from what the protagonist in the movie suffered from.

Catastrophes like these wake people up from their deep slumber that in turn tries to wake the authorities up. When the terror gun was pointed at Aamchi Mumbai muddled administration of the city and the country as whole raised its ugly head followed by R. R. Patil being replaced by Chhagan Bhujbal as deputy chief minister of Maharashtra. Well, did we forget that he is the same man who was made to resign five years ago after his name cropped up in the Telgi scam? Well. Like I said, short-term memory loss. If 2 years later, god forbid if there is another bomb blast he will resign and a Vilas Rao will be pulled out of the woodwork since public memory would have cooled off by then and his current incompetence would be a haze.

You don’t know how it feels until you are on the other side of the gun and India has been on this tin edgy end more than once. We are definitely under the weather, but we cannot overlook the importance of making things better and breathing cleaner air. Well we have already started a battle, a battle of words… everybody from Mahesh Bhatt to Barkha Dutt to my paperboy have an opinion that goes to the emotional crest. We have Simi Garewal pointing out the brilliance of George Bush's strategy of attack and we should do the same. She even directed our attention to those jhuggis who are displaying green coloured flags.Mukhtar Abbas Naqvi pointed to lipstick painted and powder dabbed faces at candle lit vigils calling them no less than terrorists. Shobha De retorted by saying she is proud of her lipstick and powder and a lifestyle, honestly earned and enjoyed. The policy is if you do not throw a bouquet at me expect a brickbat. It's amazing how quickly we turn the venom on each other at a time of crisis.

Somebody said the crisis has brought India closer together and established us as united, sensitive and humane? Is it or we are back we are. Going about our own affairs and minding our respective businesses slipping into the non-clinical Alzheimer living in our glass cubes where we can definitely see each other but not touch and feel others.

Youngsters said they don’t want a movie about their grief and pain on the glorified 70mm. But will the coming generation remember and feel what we all went through as a collective nation on the ill-fated day? Were there no movies like Buniyaad, Garam Hawa, Gadar, Earth, Pinjar would be able live the pain, grief and anguish what the generation before experienced? It is art, paintings, literature, poetry and cinema that keep something in public consciousness alive. To have awakened somebody you constantly need to stir him.

The my-outrage-is-better-than-your-outrage-and –my-pain-is-deeper-than- your-pain-& -my-grief-is-of-the-greatest-magnitude-&- we-are-holier-than-thou attitude does not work.
So please don't turn a deaf ear. You really matter even if your effort is a drop in the ocean. Especially if you are the one who sends me the millionth SMS or email or facebook invite asking me to wake up. Remember you have to be awake to wake others up.

Hey Soulmate…

Isn’t a lot already been written, said and read?
But my prose is yet to edify a path not tread.
My lyrics will unveil a tale unfold,
To reveal shades unseen and feelings untold.

Can you but conquer a language just by making a few words your own?
Or simply douse your hand to gauge the depth of the mighty ocean that the earths adorn…
Love is breathing life into gestured emotions that mere words fail to evince
Its Not bottling emotions within or giving the words a mince

Experiencing the joy of my Soulmate walking by
Even when the clock threats to run and minutes simply fly
Unearthing the latent virtues and those deep embryonic sighs.
Lifting our conjoined wings to reach enthralling highs.

Trying to Capture the tempest that jogs into a dervish whirl
Strings of my heart that I pull and hurl
Having found you my search ends but journey continues
A soulful lilt planted in my step as each moment renews…

~ Soulmate (Solemate)