Healing

So pain heals.Tissues grow and fuse. Brokenness comes together to be whole again. All I have to do is to hold that brokenness in the warmth of my being with care. At its own time and pace, healing happens. Like everything else in nature, it cannot be hurried even by one moment. I learn that with its flesh, blood and bone, my body belongs to nature and follows its eternal rules. Somewhere, its good to be reminded of that. Gives peace.
#LessonLearntFromABrokenToe

Mirrors

I find a mirror on the wayside and see a beautiful reflection of me. I fall in love with the mirror and the reflection. I mourn the breaking of the mirror. I regret the loss of the reflection. And in darkness of my grief I never realize that I am the beauty that was being reflected. Its as simple and as stupid as that.
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I stand in the hall of thousand mirrors and from where it stands, each mirror reflects me differently. I stand lost, bewildered. Darkness falls. In aloneness, I see myself in my own light. And I need mirrors no longer..
And that is why darkness, aloneness and breaking of mirrors is of much importance in our lives.

Robin Williams

Since yesterday, I have been reading on my Fb page, so many heart felt tributes to Robin Williams. I don't recall such an outpouring of love and grief happening for any other celebrity death in recent times.
And I am wondering what if he had known of this? What if he could have felt in his moments of deep despair and worthlessness, this love which was there for him? 
Yesterday, a very new friend of mine, said to me some good things she felt about me. After the initial surprise, I now find her words wrapped around me like a warm comforter. And I am sure glad she did not let the newness of our relationship, the awkwardness of unfamiliarity stop her from saying those good things to me.
Let's not fear stop us from saying what we really feel about others. Lets speak out our genuine feelings of love and appreciation. These words matter. They can do magic to another human being. They can maybe transform and save lives.

A Stranger Visits

So the doorbell rang and a stranger breezed in. She lives down the corridor, she said. Had moved in a year ago. She had heard about me from my husband, who is very involved in apartment activities and had decided to meet me. I was a little taken aback, for these days, this kind of behavior is almost unheard of. We don't really make time to meet our unknown neighbours. But it literally felt as though a fresh, fragrant breeze had blown into my home.Her warmth, her offer of friendship cheered me up. Life is about relationships. Some are born, some die out. To just stay open to them when they come and to allow the connection to take its own course is enriching.

On Drama

"Don't get caught in the drama." But the drama is the reason I am here, incarnated. Drama is what happens around me every moment, day and night. I'm here for the drama and a part of me will flow along with it, laughing, crying, fearful, angry, remorseful, hopeful. And another part of me watches the drama and slowly understanding the unreality of it, learns how to live in this transient world. I learn that the world, however imperfect it might appear to be, is in reality a perfect laboratory. Every condition ie gender, religion, economic/social status, ability, disability etc and every situation is a chosen one. Chosen in order to generate an experience which I had wanted to undergo in this mortal dimension. Death is merely a cue for exit. And when at last, I see the perfection of this laboratory, the marvelous precision of the drama, acceptance is born, outrage dies.My engagement in the drama becomes progressively lesser and more conscious. I become the observer, awestruck, enthralled, at peace.

Wild Ones

They fascinate me these days. Those plants that grow in the vacant patch of land on the other side of the boundary wall.Those we call 'weeds' because we have no use for them. On this side of the wall are plants purchased from the nursery, carefully tended by a team of gardeners, watered, manured, protected from hungry animals. And on the other side, the wild ones grow, unwanted, unnoticed, uncared for. And yet, they thrive, flourish in a display of tenacious will power, voracity for life.That patch of land is lush, green, teeming with life.

Tamarind Tree

I watch the seasons blend seamlessly on the tamarind tree. Winter, spring, summer. The leaves change colour from yellow-green to progressively darker shades. Flowers change into fruits. A continuing process. One never knows when spring ends, summer begins, winter comes. From dawn to dusk, birds come and go. I hear so many different bird calls. They rest a while in shade and leave. They might return or they might not. The tamarind tree stands rooted, open in love.

Feeling Happy

This morning, when I woke up and looked out of the window, I saw an eagle and a crow sitting next to each other companionably on a coconut frond. They sat there for some time and when a gust of wind moved the frond they both flew off simultaneously in the same direction. Unlikely friends! I saw this the first thing in the morning and it made me happy ! 

Dead skin renewed

untruths sloughed 
dead skin discarded
glistening living truth

~ Rwits 
was thinking of how the snake's moulting symbolizes life as we continually move to deeper layers of truth discarding old ones in the process. Also interestingly, the snake is a symbol for Kundalini shakti or the primal life force in us.

The Bull On The Road

India is much maligned for her chaotic traffic conditions. But somehow I love those cattle on the roads. The other day, near the HAL bus stop, I saw this handsome, reddish-brown bull sitting in the classic Nandi pose, front legs folded, eyes closed, completely immobile. He was a picture of stillness and tranquility in the middle of crazy, honking traffic. He couldn't care less for what was going on around him. I stared at him for as long as I could and it stilled something within me. And its a picture I have stowed away in my mind to be treasured.

STHREE Launch

Attended the launch of STHREE, a support group for breast cancer survivors, patients, caregivers in Bangalore. The guest of honour was a woman IG of police. She was introduced as an iconic woman achiever of exemplary courage.She spoke of how she had to overcome some fears in order to be accepted in a male dominated field. There were women survivors and patients present. Heads covered with scarves they spoke, among other things, of how hair loss reduced their confidence to be present in public places. I wondered about different types of courage needed to fight human battles. I found all those women, fighting long drawn out battles inside their bodies, equally if not more courageous than the woman IGP. Unsung heroes, each one of them.
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I was with some breast cancer survivors recently. I heard them speak. They were ordinary women in the sense that none of them were extraordinary achievers in the way the world defines achievement. What I noticed in them was zest, the excitement of being alive. They had come close to losing life and now just being alive was a gift to be happy about. They had to keep coming for followups. Not one day was to be taken for granted.
And I think why is just being alive not enough for me? Why do I think I need to achieve something or be this 'perfect being' in order to justify my existence? What is this 'achievement' anyway in this ever changing transient world? And what is 'perfection'? I am the sum total of attributes, some 'bad' some 'good'. And their combination make me who I am.Who knows trying to change something 'undesirable' might change something 'desirable' that I might regret? So I think its best to accept myself as a package deal, to love myself for who I am. And express myself without inhibitions or fear. I will no longer edit myself for people who are not comfortable with who I am. Take me in entirety or leave me. I will live my life.

On Father's Day

Across the distance of decades, we view our parents differently. My father bought us story books every month. He had bought books for us even before I could read.Shakespeare, classics, fairy tales. Our home was full of books.Though we were middle class people, we subscribed to 3 children's magazines and 2 magazines for grownups. He read us bedtime stories. He made me read the newspapers from a very early age. He pushed me to study well and rewarded me with books every time I got good marks in a subject.When I was in 2nd Std, he would give me translation assignments from Hindi to English in summer hols. I love translating now! He was an artist and he encouraged me to paint. He gave me the love for words and a childhood hugely enriched by literature and appreciation for art. And as a young girl, I never knew whether I was pretty or ugly, fair or dark because it was never mentioned. It was never considered important by my father. I never learnt to evaluate myself on looks alone. And I can see now that this was an unusual upbringing for a girl in this part of the world. And that I have been fortunate in many ways.

Mixed Feelings

My maid spoke of how, while coming to work today she had witnessed something sad. A poor couple from Bengal had travelled to Whitefield in order to collect 25 thousand rupees for the treatment of their 5 year old cancer patient son and were returning. In the overcrowded bus, the man never knew when he was pick pocketed. He and his wife wept. All the people in the bus contributed whatever they could.My maid gave 100 rupees.Was thinking of how that couple experienced ugliness and beauty of human nature at the same time and how they would have felt.