Bliss it was to be Alive

Bliss it was to be alive,
but to be young was very heaven.
William Wordsworth

My little one was to come back from Chandigarh that very day and she was to arrive at about 9-30 PM. Sadly it was a coincidence that the mortal remains of my neighbour, too, were to arrive at the same very time.

Since I have not learnt to drive so it is always someone who does this job for me when my kids come at odd times. But today was different. Everyone was so immersed in all and sundry jobs that I could not ask anyone even to bring her home. And the worst part was that her cell had no outgoing facility and when I tried calling, the signal was missing. I could not even ask her to take a taxi home. And the thought that she would be waiting for me at the bus stand, was just killing me. I didn’t know what to do?

When we parted company the other day, she was in one of her low moods. The initial hiccups of starting a new project, the final bad ending of one ongoing project, was taking its toll on our nerves. This resulted in some scuffle as well and way back to Hamirpur, I was praying to God for so many things and would even pray at times, “Its better to die than to live such a life.” How easily we try escaping the battles of life by being martyrs to be sacrificed at the altar of life. I, too, was in such a stage. But do we really wish to die or is it just a wish never to be fulfilled but said religiously in front of those whom we want to frighten?

Back home the scene was different. An untimely death of a close neighbour shattered us all. I was particularly disturbed as I saw from a close quarter that a dead relationship can be revived or replaced but never a dead person. How wrong I had been to think it to be-all and end-all situation. Life is precious. “But who would bring my little one home?” was at the back of my mind all the time. I was not so insensitive as to ask my colleagues to go and bring her home at a time when there was so much to be done. I was in dilemma. Suddenly everyone became alert as the carriage carrying the body had arrived. The women folks started to wail loudly and men engaged themselves in work. Such gender defined roles were best suited for all concerned when men hid their emotion under the assumedly weight of work and women give vent to their heart felt grief. One half of my being was with the aggrieved family and the other half with my little one who might be waiting anxiously for someone to come to pick her up.

Suddenly amidst all this commotion RKD came up to me and asked about the little one. Before I could say anything, he shouted, “She must be waiting” and hurriedly grabbed the keys of his car and went away to the bus stand. I felt so relieved. Within no time the little one was back home. I hugged her close to me and cried loudly for her being with me. Unabashedly I was crying as I knew what death does to your near ones. The problems that looked alarming enough to beat us the other day seemed so insignificant and immaterial.

This incident has taught me some lessons. One that life must go on, whatsoever may happen. So it is best to run along with. More important was the significance of being alive as we had another chance to set right things that might have gone wrong. But death doesn’t give you any chance. When I heard persons lamenting “if only…” I found the futility of such a wish. Why don’t we do all that we are capable of doing when life is breathing and bubbling? I learnt it was never too late to mend some relationships, to start afresh some others and to make up for gaps that could be filled! Not a tall order by nay means. I understood the wisdom of the words of the famous bard:

Bliss it was to be alive,
but to be young was very heaven.

Thank God, we are alive and young as well then why to be bowed down by the pressures of the life.

Tomorrow is a new day!

Why Men Don’t Cry?

A Death in the Neighbourhood

The mood is solemn. Even the neighbourhood kids are silent as if on a cue of something really out of place. All people, forgetting their acrimony and petty differences, have come together to console the family that needs emotional support.

There has been a death in the neighbourhood. It is the first death of an elderly person on the campus and as we live like a big family, everyone is affected to his bones. The moment I heard of Akku’s Dadi’s death, I was too shocked even to react. The first thought that came to my mind was that it just could not be. Someone must have spread a rumour! But unfortunately it was true, as true as death can be!

A tall and graceful woman even at her age, she walked swiftly every evening making the young ashamed for their leisurely gait. It is 6-30 pm at this time, the time when she would go for a walk and today we are waiting for her body to come from Shimla where she had gone to spend some time with her brothers’ families. The wait was torturous as we could do nothing except wait. Every evening her grand daughters would wait for her to come from the walk but today whole of the campus was waiting for her.

I realized that it needs courage to go to a bereaved family. As you know that the best of your sharing the grief cannot mitigate the irreparable loss of the family. Gathering courage I, too, went to the family and a look at the face of my colleague made me break down completely. A confident and self assured young man looked distraught and weak. I wanted to hold him close to me. Death of a near and a dear one makes you see life in a new perspective. Death around you makes you wise, albeit temporarily. One becomes philosophic and rises above the mundane frivolous bickering.

Wait, wait and more wait for her to come. Not her but her body. Finally the wait was over and the men of the block brought out the body of the lady. Death is really cruel. It takes away the essence of life. A lifeless body was kept on the floor on and surrounded by ice slabs. I shuddered even at the thought of touching ice. And the fire that would engulf the body made me weep even more. Death is really a great equalizer.

I really wonder why we quarrel over non-issues when life is too short to live peacefully. But then as I said these revelations come to us only when we watch death at close quarters. But do we learn any thing?

Getting Rid of Clutter From My Life

Find a Book if you Can!

Over some time there has been accumulation of clutter in almost all areas of my life resulting in blocking the creative energy to help me grow. It is high time that I take stock of the situation and get rid of all the clutter in my life.

It is really a good beginning as I slept peacefully last night. I had cleaned the computer of much clutter and this resulted in much free space on its hard disc which was earlier filled with trash. Next in line are my cupboards overflowing with clutter. My mind, too, needs thorough cleansing and this is the hardest part of getting rid of clutter from my life. But at least the process has started and the adage, well begun is half done, is quite applicable in my case as well.

 Is it the Wardrobe of a Lady?

Have you ever wondered how we keep on stuffing material around us? Things that we would, perhaps, never need or use take so much of our energy and space. When I look at my overflowing cupboard, to clean it up seemed like a Herculean task. And if you ever watch me getting ready for my class, you would see me frantically searching for something decent to wear! Most of my energy would b wasted in finding the clothes. If I find a suit, the matching dupatta would be hard to come by and if I find a pressed saree, the blouse would just be impossible to locate in the heap of clothes. When I started to put my cupboard in shape, I found most of the clothes of no use but still occupying a large space in my cupboard. It was a hard decision to get rid of many of them as each of them carried some pleasant memories of “once upon a time”!

Joys of Toys

Then there is a big heap of newspapers especially the magazine sections that I love to go over. But this heap has also to be disposed off. I sit for long hours scanning all the newspapers and put on one side all those that I might read again or need sometimes later. This heap starts bulging and the irony is that I may not ever read it again. But I cannot discard these hard to get jewels.

The biggest and deadliest place to be cluttered is the computer. I have put so many things on my PC that sometimes it is hard to locate many of the files. As I am not very systematic in other fields of my life the same reflects in my file management on my PC as well. There are a number of articles that I have left in between but cannot just delete those files. May be one day I will finish them—seems to be the guiding mantra! So many photographs, internet downloads, material left unused from my research take a very large part of the hard disk. My son often reprimands me for this and asks me to shift all that clutter to my office PC. The least I say about my office PC, the best it would be as it is all the more cluttered because of the course material, results and so many other official documents!

These are the physical spaces that are cluttered with unwanted material and are visible to a keen observer but my mind that is well hidden from others is the worst place that is full to the brim with clutter. At least with other storage places, the physical limitations are well defined. I cannot go on stuffing a place more than it is capable of taking. But mind is limitless! One can go on and on filling it up and widening its horizons. Now the choice is yours—to fill it up with things good and a joy to keep or with memories painful and a burden to carry? I have been harbouring many a negative thoughts in the biggest and the most complex of the hard disk of mine—my mind—for a long time. These would come up at times to mar my day and mood. But I questioned myself—is it worth? The answer was plain and simple—NO. Not at any cost. Life is too short to harbour bad memories. One must keep them as guiding stones, a lighthouse, to guide for the safe passage of life, but never as a hindrance to further growth.

This simple truth dawned upon me last night when I decided to give a face lift to my cluttered wardrobe and I promise to get rid of everything that has cluttered my home, life, mind and soul!

What I miss in the month of July?

Old Leaf in Yellowed Leaves of Kalyan

Come July and I start missing out so many things. I suddenly become restless and want to have all those things back in my life that I have lost in the race against time.

These days our block wears a deserted look as almost all the occupants have gone along with the family to their ancestral homes, a yearly pilgrimage for many of them. Not long ago I, too, would be waiting for the vacations of my kids to start so that we could go to my mothers’ place. We went quite frequently to their Dadi’s place because of close proximity but to go to Nani’s place would take just once or twice in the year, hence the wait.

The kids would be excited as now they will have unbridled freedom to explore what they could not do back home. They would go to the nearby Khadd to have a bath and I would be so worried till they returned as during rainy season, flash floods in the reasonably placid waters of these khadds was a routine affair. It would be pure adventure for them but they still rue the fact that because of so many restrictions imposed upon them, they could not learn swimming! I would tell them not to venture into deeper waters and allow them to bathe in shallow waters only. They still blame me for not giving them enough freedom as they would not avail of a chance even behind my back if they were denied the permission to do so.

During the long days, they would go through the stacks of old comics and story books which at one time were the prized and most possession of my little brothers! And the day my brother allowed them to take the treasure to Hamirpur, how happy my kids were as if they were given the most precious thing in the world. Now they started pestering me to return back home as they were afraid that my brother may not have a change of heart! These comics are still lying in one of the cupboard and even I read them at times.

I would be the one who would be given a royal; treatment. My ma would make all the delicacies that I loved to eat. She would grind the urd daal on the stone slab and would stuff the same in bhaturas and then would deep fry them. The aroma of the ingredients would fill my nostrils and soul with a memory to last for a year! She would force me to eat while she served them hot and fresh. The look of satisfaction in her eye would speak of her love for me. Since it used to be rainy season, she would make Pateed for us that would be sumptuous!

Mouth Watering Seasonal Pateeds

Having eaten to my fill, I would laze around and browse over old issues of once famous magazines and journals that still were around. Opening the almirah that had stacks of old issues of “Kalyans” was another pastime. I would read portions out of many of the famous issues or sometimes would just scan through the pages. Many a times I would come across old letters or some pages cribbled in my childhood handwriting; that would open the charm of an old bygone era. How I longed to be a small girl at that time. Some old school reports, some pressed flowers and leaves that I would keep in the old volumes of “Kalyans’” yearly issues, would peep their head from the yellowed pages of the books.

 

Sometimes I would ask my Ma to open her trunk that was like an old treasure for us—old clothes—each with a distinct memory. The satin blouses and petticoats of the years gone by and a pair of flower vases and the list would go on and on.

Another object of much interest would be old photographs that were kept in the trunk, my fathers’ prized photographs. One that I vividly remember had the Lakshmi Bai regiment of INA!

My fathers’ stamp collection was another invaluable thing that we poured into. He was an avid collector of First Day Covers and would buy them come what may. All those lie in one tin trunk in some neglected corner of my mother’s home. So many times I thought of putting them in an album but other things predominated and they would always be relegated to some other time. And that time has not yet come!!!!

I can go on and on writing about what I miss during the month of July as these days I don’t go to my Ma’s place in the vacation period as I wait for my kids to come to me during the month of July!

And when they come, they all indulge in all these activities that once I would do. Life seems to have come a full circle only the roles have changed!

A Golden Strand of Hair

jpegI still am in search of a golden strand of hair! Strange it may seem to all that why would I search for such a hair? Strange but true.

The childhood memories always pull me back and whenever in a dilemma, I try retrieving some reference from the storehouse of my childhood memories to get an answer from. As I have been deluded with a number of problems recently; like all normal human beings I, too, leave it to destiny and God to solve them. Leave alone the mental and psychological low state that I find myself in, even physically too I have some problem to be careful of. And it was on account of these that I thought of the golden strand of hair!

When I was a very young child, I came to the shrine of Baba Balak Nath in Hamirpur District. As this was my first visit to this part of the state and as I was always a very keen student to learn new things, a new world opened up in front of my eyes. A world of faith in power supreme. It was during this visit that among other souvenirs some book having the story of the shrine was also purchased. I literally read each word of the book related to the story of the shrine and about Baba Balak Nath Ji. The portion of the book that dealt with Baba Ji having given one of the strands of his golden hair to Mata Rattni Devi so that she could summon him whenever the need arose made an indelible impression on my young mind.

How I wished to have such a power in my hand to summon Him whenever the need arose! And for me it was almost everyday, rather every moment of the day. I had to get this famous strand of hair! And I thought of the luxurious growth of golden hair on the young crown of Baba Ji and thought what would he lose if he gives me just one strand out of that!

I prayed fervently to Baba to grant me, too, a golden strand of his hair! I can see, even today, the drawing on that page where Rattni Devi was receiving his darshna and this famous strand. I would pray to him throughout night, till my eyelids would close of fatigue, to put a strand in the same book at some place for me. Next day early in the morning with trembling hands would open the book to search for the strand of golden hair but alas it would not be there. I would feel cheated but optimistic as I always have been since my childhood, next day the same routine would be repeated.

Now a reasonably mature person I appreciate the devotion and trust that I had during my childhood and find that I have carried that trust along. Though honestly speaking now when I pray to God to grant my wish, I add to be on the safer side, if it would be for our good! Even today I pray to god for so many things but these days the childhood die-hard-trust has been replaced with some uncertainties as I know how difficult it is for God to grant us what we ask for. But ask I must for granting many boons. Over the years, I have turned greedy too. Now my wishes and demands have multiples manifold.

But one thing that has not changed is the little girl in me still searching for the golden strand of hair as a panacea for all my problems.

From Darkness to Light

  From Darkness to Light

When darkness seems to engulf,

all that enlightens me

when threats and uncertainty

incapacitate me to see,

the reason and the cause.

A divine intervention

somewhere from afar

and unknown

comes and uplifts

my sagging spirits

and  fills my heart

with desires anew.

Fervour, passion and zeal

fill my mind, body and soul.

The wounds of yesterday

begin an onset to heal.

My bruised soul

and battered psyche

distrusting temperament

whither away

when lightning

moves away the demons

of yesterday.

Filled with memories

pains and dilemmas,

that had made me

move away from life

in all its magnificence.

I start trusting afresh

looking forward

to commence new deals

and life in all its loveliness.

I look at light

Admiring its sheen

And from the darkness

I move away and wean.

Focus on positive

makes me wean away

from all that had

robbed my each day

of love trust and zeal.

I really don’t know

how and when

my wounded soul heals.

Pen friends then and Net friends Now

When I was in school having pen friends was the rage of the students. I remember one of my friends in the neighbourhood, SNS, who was having friendship with a girl from Australia, Jena. It was such an important matter at that time that today, even  after a gap of about 36 years, I vividly remember the details. When he would get a letter from this girl, all of us would read it and comment upon it. Her handwriting was really beautiful and I still can see the words written in black ink on a paper. So much so that the stamps glued on the envelop would be a collector’s item! After some exchange of letters,
Jena sent her photograph. And would you believe that her photograph became a piece-a–detour in their home. It was a matter of pride for whole of the neighbourhood that a boy from this locality had got a photo of an “Angrez” girl. For most of us all white skinned people were just “Angrez” as all black skinned people in India are “Madrasis” for the north Indians these days. This picture, put in a very costly frame, was put on the mantle along with all the dignitaries’ photo frames. Such honour was bestowed on the photograph that I wonder what would have happened if the girl in person would have decided to visit their home!

I don’t know what happened later on. Perhaps the relationship came to an end as the postal stamps, needed to post a letter, were really making a dent in the pocket of SNS.

I thought off this incident because of two things—one that SNS’s daughter got married on 2^nd July and it was the invite that made me think about SNS. And second is the easy access to make friends over Net these days and its impact on their life. I am sure that if I ask SN today about Jena, he would take a while even to remember the name. The teenaged boy of those days is a big industrialist in Mumbai these days and I think twice before calling him up as his secretary, speaking fluent English, puts me off. But he would surely remember her and we would have a great laugh over certain silly things that were so important to us at one time.

But the scenario has changed these days. With easy access to Net connections and the all time dilemma of the modern generation, connecting to more and more persons has become a fad. I keep on surfing the Net, reading blogs and scraps on orkut and feel really sorry for the young generation in search of “nothing”. No one seems to know what they are searching for or why? But since everyone else seems to be on orcut, you must too be there. Since others are writing blogs, you must too and so on and on.

In our times pen friends were not something to be laughed off but a relationship worth nurturing with care and love. There were not any expectations of meeting this friend in person or marrying her but still it was dignified relationship. Not even jokingly would we laugh or make fun of
Jena. She was a respectable entity for us all.

But these days the things are much different. People connect to others as if more the score more prestigious it would be for them. I wonder looking at the friends’ list of some person’s on Orkut that whether they really remember the names of all these persons on their friend list. Or for them the more the better, is the supreme Mantra? And the so called serious relationships on the Net are solely need based. You need company, you enter a relationship. How easy and free it has become to avail companionship over Net? No promises to fulfill, even if they are made, they are forgotten the moment the need is not there for this companionship. How inhuman indeed!

I am sure SNS would still talk of Jena in a respectful manner and not only he but his mother would have some honest emotions for the girl, whose photograph adorned their home. But can we say the same thing about the present day Net relations? Many of these relationships are nurtured behind the backs of the parents. In many cases the parents don’t even seem to have an idea what their worthy sons and daughters are up to behind their backs. And if by chance, there is a need to take things any further, the relationship is snapped with a cruelty that might break the tender heart as well. But who cares?

I am sure like SNS Jena, too, would be having a cherished memory of a friendship that she had with a boy from India but would the present day youth carry any such memory? When they have so little time and so many Net friends to choose from?

A serious relationship—my foot–seems to be guiding Mantra for these modern day Net suavy nerds!

I crave for the good old days!

P.S. Could not control my curiosity and called SNS a moment back and asked him about his one time Penfriend. He remebered her. And surprisingly I talked to him after about 25 years. Thanks to a small memory about a pen friend that I was able to reconnect to my childhood friend!

I Listen to What My Dreams Say

When I read in the popular columns in weeklies and news papers someone interpreting dreams of others, I am really amazed. I wonder at the parochial abilities of the dream analyst or his clairvoyance! Dreams are something very personal and if anyone, at all, can interpret the meaning of those dreams, it has to be the person who has had that dream, none else. Because it is not just telling someone what you saw that would enable the person to interpret the message that the dream held for you, as it is the emotional response that you feel while you dream that sets the tone of the message. And no interpreter can feel for the emotions that the person experiences while dreaming.

To understand your dream you must know about the background or the factors that make you see that dream.

Some years back I started having a recurrent dream and this dream became an obsession with me. Every time when I will see this dream the intensity of the emotions would be more than what I experienced the last time. I would dream of having chewing-gum in my mouth and this chewing gum would get stuck to my teeth. I would try spitting it out but it would not come out. I would make much effort to spit it out but it would be a futile exercise. I would be frantic and in desperation would put my fingers in my mouth to pull it out but it would not even be pulled out. The more force I would apply, the more sticky it would seem. I would be sweating and would make one more last attempt and I would feel as something, a part of my food pipe would be coming out along with the chewing gum! I would get up from my sleep, drenched in cold sweat and would dread going to sleep again. This dream had become very recurrent and the intensity of the emotions surging within me would make me afraid of it.

In order to find an answer to my dream and what it was trying to tell me, I stated looking around and analyzed my life with some miniscule investigation. What I found was amazing. I saw my life and my dreams from some distance and found a deep relation between my dream and my life.

It was a time when I doing Ph.D. had become a professional compulsion for me but I was deferring it as I felt guilty for having neglected my kids foe a long time when I was occupied in other examinations. And now I wanted to give them my full time and energy. But it seemed as if in order to make a balance between my personal and professional life, somewhere on the way, I had lost something very precious. Though on the surface every thing looked cool and cozy but turbulence seemed to rule underneath. A turbulence that my own self was not able to recognize or see. I was happy but somewhere inside a feeling of an un fulfilled dream raised its head that my rational self would put down.

Looking at the totality of the situation, I was able to see clearly what my dream was trying to say. The chewing gum stuck in my teeth, was my creativity that I had stifled inside. I was trying to downplay my urge to do something worthwhile that I was capable of. The day I was able to listen to the message that my dream was trying to give me, I was honestly at peace with myself. I decided to start with my research work and do what I really wanted to do. The day I took this decision, the recurrence of this dream became very less and finally when I started with the work, it just vanished.

Since last many years I have not had this dream. I just wonder if I had written about this dream to someone who claimed to read and interpret dreams, would he had given me a solution for the problem? I am afraid he would not even have read the dream!

I am happy that I was able to listen to what my dream was trying to say!

Walking along the road…

Walking and jogging around,

Trudged we both together,

You made me feel proud

Though I was much behind

Whimpering at loss of speed,

And strength of my feet

That had trudged me

And made me beat

You as a child!

But I was elated

To see you run

and run much ahead

of your mother

who had made you learn

take faltering steps

holding you close

when you made some lapse

you needed me for support

love and care and a pat

on your back;

a kiss on your cheeks;

a peck behind your ear.

Today, I need you

to make me see

the world that surrounds

that my weak limbs

might impinge

from having a round.

Would I stop you?

Or ask you to decrease

your speed of life,

give a helping hand

to me in my strife

in keeping keep pace

with you and others.

In this unending race

where youth marches m

much ahead to win.

No. my dear, no.

I had my own time and joys

My own race against time,

when I was young and tough,

I lived my life.

Hoping to see you

trudge along

the paths set by destiny;

and leave me much behind.

As my loss is my greatest gain

To see you march ahead.

A much awaited joy

With not an iota of pain!