A cycle is completed

Most of my childhood is blurry except for some vivid memories here and there. One of them is of walking down the street to reach the bus stop with my Dad every morning.  It must have been summertime as the Gulmohar trees were in full bloom. The crimson red and yellow flowers in their unique bunch formation were mesmerising, to father-daughter alike. 

My father offered to pluck a tiny branch for me so that I got a nice bunch. It made me so happy. I took it proudly to school and gave it to my favourite teacher. Some students would get packaged roses and fancy flowers to woo their favourite teachers. I thought my bunch of Gulmohar was more precious that any of them. I don’t know if the teacher thought the same way.

25 years down the line, I walk my 3 year old son to school in the morning. Enroute he spots a flower lying upside down on the street. It is a gorgeous shade of frangipani (Indian name champa). He picks it up and the flower is in perfect condition. I suggest maybe he would like to give it Ms. Tina, his favourite teacher. He lights up at the suggestion and carries it very carefully all the way to school. He spots her from far away as he enters the school gate and shouts out “ Ms. Tiiiinaaaa!!”. His arm is outstretched and he is holding out the flower for her to see. He runs up to her and gives her the flower. Ms. Tina accepts it graciously and as she looks at me, there’s this wide grin of pure joy on her face.

And just like that, a cycle is completed. From father-daughter to mother-son. Or maybe it isn’t and my son will carry it forward. 

 

I am sorry, I messed up

Stellar men with a deadly combination of talent and success. Making big blunders at their career peak. Being dragged through more mud that any person of their calibre should have to. That they are guilty is un-mistakable. Yet they keep fighting, scheming, lying, resisting. When the hammer finally comes down, they (will) plead like lambs for mercy.

Rajat Gupta, Sanjay Dutt, Narendra Modi, Salman Khan

All heroes in their own way. Yet, in face of a real crisis, they lost basic integrity and humility. The very values we keep expect (even demand) from our toddlers.

If my Hero messed up, all I would want is for him to say “I am sorry”. To have the courage to own up to his mistakes, accept consequences and, move on with grace.

If this is what our Heroes are going to look like, how much worse are we going to be ?

Body Beautiful

A clear hot water spring.

            Pebbles underneath.

Blue sky above.

            Pine forests ahead.

Stark naked.

            Immersed in hot spring water.

My body is beautiful.

            Just the way it is.

Sarfaraz and Rajan

Once upon a time there was a zealous 23 year old, eager to start working and be a small part of the change she wanted to see around her.

She volunteered at a slum for one month, spending her days with the kids there, helping them prepare for a community event that an NGO was trying to put together.

Amongst the 30 odd kids in the room, two 10-year old boys stood out to her. Sarfaraz and Rajan. They were the best of friends while their family background couldn’t be more different.

One from a well-knit cohesive nuclear family caring deeply for each other and striving to raise their odds of success in life,.  The boy was a bright student, well-dressed, gentle and loving.

The other came from a house where the father married multiple times. Surrounded by step sibings and missing his mother, the boy had a wild streak and a razor-sharp mind.

Their friendship was unique. The common bond seemed to be their love for learning. Boy, were they hungry to learn.

I adored Sarfarz and Rajan. And I think they liked me alright too. We spent many hours together, practicing for their performance for the event. They welcomed me to their home and we once went on an outing to the science museum together with my mother. They were thrilled. So was I. My parents were scared for me, uncertain about the waters I was charting.

I moved on to my professional life. Sarfarz and Rajan managed to keep in touch.  They had my parent’s landline number and would call my mother to find out contact details as I changed numbers and cities.

Their slum was relocated some 70 kms away from city centre in a drive to beautify the city area. It disrupted their families. One was sent off to Hyderabad to work in a leather unit with his cousin. The other’s mother was forced to return to her village while the men tried to make ends meet in the city.  Going to school meant a 3 hour commute each way, changing multiple buses and lots of walking. None of them managed to complete their high school.

And then they stopped calling. I don’t know how to get in touch with them and probably don’t have the courage to.

I had the chance to touch their lives and I didn’t live up to it.  I am too snug in my cocoon. I wonder what it will take to make me snap out of it.

I do miss you, my little brothers. Call your Didi, will you?

Friends- here, there, everywhere

As we grow older, it can seem harder to make new friends. It certainly did to me.

Until I realised that it was my own limiting assumptions that was making it harder.

Ass#1 A friend is a person who you meet regularly and stays in the same city as you. 

I now take it as given that close friends will touch your life at certain points and then move away. But the friendship will stay alive, no what which part of the world (or beyond). You will always feel its warmth for it added something meaningful to your life.

Ass#2 A friend is a person of similar age group.

I am blessed to have bonds of friendship with people ranging from 6 year olds to 90 yrs old. It now feels like a tragic loss to only have friends of your own age. So much more fun and interesting to bond one-on-one with people across age groups.

Ass#3 A friend is a person.

In Bangkok, my earliest and closest friend is Lumpini Park. No matter what mood I enter the park in, when I step out, my mood is definitely better. Sometimes a mere 5%, sometimes a 100%. If that isn't friendship, what is?



***

I no longer find it hard to make new friends. My friends are spread across the world, across age-groups, inside human bodies and outside of them. I treasure my friendships and continue to make new ones.

Bedtime conversations

Time on clock: 8 ish pm

Scene : Lying down on the bed, lights off, arms locked around each others necks.

Mama: I love Kabbu

Kabbu: I love Megha (Mom)

Kabbu: I love Waj (Dad)

Kabbu: I love Bimla Didi (Nanny)

Kabbu: I love Bike

Kabbu: I love Choc-cake

Kabbu: I love...

Kabbu: I love...

Mama: Ok, now go to sleep

Kabbu: No, Mama sleep. Kabbu is naughty.

I love putting you to bed, naughty Kabbu.

Bangkok, you are home

Two years.

That's how long it took for you to become home.

You are where my husband works and enjoys being. Where  my son goes for activities and pre-school. Where my (new) close friends are. Where a certain park engulfs us in a hug every now and then. Where we have set up our nest that cocoons us. Where I have found my rhythm.

Your sounds and sights are not just familiar but welcoming, even re-assuring. Your people no longer seem like strangers even though your country tags me "alien".

You are where I want my life to be for now. I want to savour my time with you.

Happy to be back home, Bangkok. 

Gift of Eavesdropping

Its impolite to eavesdrop on a conversation that does not intend to include you. Or so I upheld until now. Turns out that it "depends".

I recently participated in the introductory tour of the Maitrimandir at Pondicherry. It was a beautiful experience and I was in relaxed, peaceful state. As I walked out of the compound, I overheard a middle-aged man giving what sounded like an exclusive talk about the place to a group of middle-aged Indian couples. Some seemed to be listening with interest, the others out of compulsion. Am not sure what compelled me to stop as I was passing by, the politely confident quality of his voice or my hunger to learn more about this unique place. Quite likely that it was both.

I stood rooted at a respectful distance from the group and lapped up every word of what he said. It turned out that he was a senior civil servant who was sharing the story of Maitrimandir and Auroville from the lens of the Indian Govt.'s role (or deliberate lack of it) in the whole project. He seemed well-informed yet humble and I got some great insights into this 40+ years old work-in-progress project called Auroville world city.

It probably lasted no longer than 10 minutes. I could sense that his talk was coming to a close and it was time for him to steer the group forward to continue their round of the premises. I looked at him to express my gratitude, only to find him looking back. I smiled and nodded at him in a expression of my heartfelt thanks and he reciprocated with a very similar nod. It was over in 3 seconds.

It struck me later that maybe he was thanking me too. For listening with a curious and respectful ear.  For giving him the gift of eavesdropping.

A Heart Brims Over

Sometimes a heart can brim over with love.

Like when you drop your 2 year old on his third day at nursery school. You tell him you'll be back at 11:30 and we'll ride back home together on the big bike. He looks at you confidently and says his trademark "OK". He nods at the teacher and joins the morning group of children in their signing session.

You ride away on your bike and as you cast a final glance, you see him stomping his feet happily to a song.

And just like that, your heart brims over.

Get well soon

Setting: Our favourite Mexican restaurant. Husband, son and I enjoying our food at our table. A group of 2 guys and 2 girls in their thirties enjoying at theirs. 

My son decides to start kicking me under the table for no reason. I ask him to stop. No luck. I pinch his leg to let him know he really has to stop. He is taken back. Decides to throw a bout of crying to register this affront to his dignity.

The guy at the adjoining table turns to face him and aggressively makes a shooing gesture and sound at him. Husband takes son out to pacify him.

The guy starts sharing a new policy by Singapore Airlines (?) where you can buy a special ticket that ensures there will be no kids seated in your vicinity. The merriment at their table continues.

I am seething with fury. What gives this guy the right to be aggressive with my 2 year old ? I want to retaliate.

First thought - "F*** YOU"

Second thought - to the 2 girls at the table seated with him  - "you don't want him to be the father of your child"

Third thought - "F*** YOU"

Fourth thought - "Wish you good luck being a Dad"

Husband and son have returned. Son is back to being his happy self. Seeing him smiling and happy, I no longer want to make an aggressive comeback at the guy. But I can't let it pass either.

We settle our bill. Husband and son walk out as I am taking the last couple of sips from my drink.

I collect our bags. Walk up to the other table. Lean over to the guy and say -

"I wish you a speedy recovery. Get well soon."

Dumbfounded expressions at the table. I walk out with the pleasure of a job well done.



p.s. thankyou Munnabhai :)

Dear Kabir - Of Hugs

Today I hugged the root of a 130 year old Banyan tree.

At first, I was hesitant to even lean back against it, as some others in our group were doing. Once I leaned, it felt like I was turning my back on it. So I wondered how it would feel to hug it. Hug a tree root ? That seemed weird and surely no one around was doing it.

So then I thought about you, put my arms around the tree and closed my eyes.

The tree pulled me closer into the hug. My palms cupped the root softly, my cheek rested against it and I surrendered.The breeze became cooler. I no longer cared about being the weird one hugging a tree. And the tree hugged me right back.

I hope, dear Kabir, that your life will be rich in hugs. Including those with old trees.

Especially those with old trees.

Meditating by a Fish Pond

Something pulled me to that small fish pond. Made me sit down and look closer.

At first I saw the big fish. I noticed how smoothly they swam, barely using their fins, gliding through water with the slightest swish of their tails. Then I saw the tiny fish. How some of them seemed to be tailing mama/dada fish.

Then I noticed how clear the water was, how rare this opportunity to be able to see fish to clearly and closely. Then I saw the thick bushes of tall grass underwater. All of a sudden there appeared a big frog, wading through those bushes. But hey ! how come this frog had six legs, four big and two tiny ? Oh no ! It was a baby frog riding horseback on mama frog. Holding on to her shoulders with his front legs and using the rear ones to practice swimming. They would surface up, eyes darting out of water and then dive back into the grass bushes below. And repeat, in their own slow rhythm.

Then I saw the pink dragonflies. Two of them, engaged in their own dance around a plant growing out of the pond. Then the two dragonflies became five. Some time passed and I felt the dragonflies approach me. Two of them came close and circled me, hovering close enough to inspect me closely and then going back to their business.

Then I noticed a slender and long yellow insect which seemed to hanging out with the dragonflies.

Then I noticed the ripples in the pond and saw that they were being caused by a trickle of water dropping at the one edge of the pond from far above.

Then I heard the wind chimes. They were melodious and loud. Surprising that I had only just heard them.

I felt my eyelids drooping, they seemed too heavy all of a sudden. Then I noticed how tired I really was.

Then I realized that this was meditation. Being present in the moment, at one with your surroundings and with yourself.

I went back after two days and all I could see were a few ordinary fish. No trace of the dragonflies, yellow insect, baby-mama frog, small fish, chimes, trickle of water. Maybe if I had sat down by the pond side without expectations, they would have all come back with some more friends in tow.

Where have the ladybirds gone ?

My son's first and most favorite animal since he was 20 months old was the Ladybird. He would spot it in the most unlikely places. On logos, playmats, toys, toddler cars, books and, most incredibly on the packaging of a green tea bottle. I could never understand why he was so drawn to this particular bug. But I wanted to fill his life with ladybirds.

I found myself looking for ladybird themed board books, stickers, backpacks,  beanbags, placemats. Until it struck me that he had never seen a real ladybird. That we don't see ladybirds anymore. Sometime early in my childhood, I have seen ladybirds, the red and black ones.

I no longer wish to cram his life with ladybird things. Now my only wish is for him to meet a real ladybird or two.

Have you seen them somewhere recently?