My Sapling

True Meaning of Christmas Simplified (Author Unknown)

2011-12-23T18:26:00.001+05:30

I just finished the household chores for the night and waspreparing to go to bed, when I heard a noise in the front of the house. Iopened the door to the front room and to my surprise, Santa himself stepped outfrom behind the Christmas tree. He places his finger over his mouth so I wouldnot cry out.

“What are you doing?” , I started to ask. The words chokedup in my throat, and I saw he had tears in his eyes. His usual jolly manner wasgone. Gone was the eager, boisterous character we all know.

He then answered me with a simple statement – “TEACH THECHILDREN!”

I was puzzled. Whatdid he mean? He guessed my question, and with one quick movement pulled aminiature toy bag from behind the tree.

As I stood puzzled, Santa said, “Teach the children! Teachthem the old meaning of Christmas. The meaning that now-a-days Christmas hasforgotten”

Santa then reached in his bag and pulled out a FIR Tree andplaced it in front of the fire place.

“Teach the children that the pure green colour of the statelyfir trees remains green all year round, representing the everlasting hope ofmankind, all the needless point heavenward, making it a symbol of man’sthoughts turning toward heaven.”

He again reached into his bag and pulled out a brilliantSTAR.

“Teach the children that the star was the heavenly sign ofpromises long ago. God promised a Saviour for the world, and the star was thesign of fulfillment of His promise.”

He then reached into his bag and pulled out a CANDLE.

“Teach the children that the candle symbolizes that Christis the light of the world, and when we see this great light we are reminded ofJesus who fills our lives with light.”

Once again he reached into his bag and removed a WREATH andplaced it on the tree.

“Teach the children that the wreath symbolizes the realnature of love. Real love never ceases, like God’s love which has no beginningor end”

He then pulled from his bag an ornament of HIMSELF.

“Teach the children that I, Santa Clause symbolize thegenerosity and kindness we feel during the month of December.”

He then brought out a HOLLY LEAF.

“Teach the children that the holly plant representsimmortality. It represents the crown of thorns worn by our Saviour. The redholly represents the blood, shed by HIM.”

Next he pulled from his bag a GIFT and said, “ Teach the children that God soloved the world that He gave us HIS only SON…We thank God for his very specialgift.”

"Teach the children that the wise men bowed before the Holy baby and gave HIM gifts of gold,frankincense and myrrh. We should always give gifts in the spirit of the wise men'

He reached in again and pulled out an ANGEL.

“Teach the children that it was the angels that announced the glorious news of theSaviour’s birth. The angels sang ‘Glory to God in the highest, on earth peaceand good will toward men.”

Suddenly, I heard a soft tinkling sound, and from his bag hepulled out a BELL.

“Teach the children that as the lost sheep are found by thesound of the bell, it should ring to guide us to God. The bell symbolizes guidanceand return. It reminds us that we are all precious in the eyes of God.”

Santa looked back and was pleased. I saw the twinkle in hiseyes as he said:

“Remember, teach the children the true meaning of Christmasand do not put me in the centre, for I am but a humble servant of the One thatis, and I bow down to worship HIM, our LORD, our GOD.”

Better than a Halleleujah

2011-10-02T13:50:00.000+05:30

Once again we are caught between a hard rock and a hard place.
Life threw another curve ball our way.
I am sad, grasping at every glimmer of hope, latching on to the faith I've been taught, experienced and have come to know.

I tried to pray but words fail me.
I open the holy book and hope the scripture would bring some solace.

2 Corinthians 4:8,9 - "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

Not crushed, not despaired, not abandoned, not destroyed, I pray this is true for you my dear one.

"God loves a lullaby
In a mother's tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

God loves the drunkard's cry
The soldier's plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing out, singing out

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah"

I hope the meaning of this song holds true.
I hope our honest cries are being heard, my dear one...

LOVE LETTERS – My keepsakes

2011-09-16T11:50:00.003+05:30

How I found rediscovered them...

Opportunity strike once and rarely strikes the second time.

June 2011, I got the chance to pump on the accelerator and fast track my career. If it meant moving 10350 kilometers (6429 miles) to another country, another hemisphere, so be it. If Australia can bring in a fresh-start, better work-life balance, and is my oyster to other dreams, I am game.

I’ve made a home for myself in a rented house in Bangalore.

So beginning July 2011, I was going through a mad pace of pulling my act together. In short, I was browsing through decades of belongings, separating the keep-sakes from those to be given-away/throw-away. It was a painful process so much so that 3 days before I took the flight to Melbourne, I was at my wits end, literally tearing my hair apart. No way near the end to my packing my friend Himanshu stepped in and lend me 3 of his miracle-workers. They boxed up all my effects in a matter of 4 hours. Their nonchalance was incredulous but grateful I was.

So I am a hoarder. For most, they see it as a disease. Especially my minimalistic friend Ashish would shake his head and generously instruct me on the latest fad, that is ‘Minimalistic living’. He is a disciple and I applaud.

For me, I don’t see it as a disease or disorder but I agree that it could be a nuisance especially when you are packing up to start anew.

OMG,MY TREASURES!!!

Because I am a hoarder, a sentimentalist,a memory clinger, while packing up I came across certain keep-sakes that mademe all gooey inside. A pebble on which was written ‘I am sorry’ from mydie-hard friend Nimisha, chits of amateur poetry written during lectures frommy petite-pretty school friend Meda, a small wooden designer case gifted to meby my engineering batch-mate Santosh on my 21^st birthday (I bet hedoes not remember this) wherein, I have kept other treasures; numerous off-the-shelfand customized birthday cards; But the one keep-sake that stole the attentionare ‘the letters’.

CLOSE TO MY HEART, THEY ARE :-)

I came across letters from myschool friends, college mates, seniors and juniors alike. Letters from SibChettri (a senior who ended up as a best friend) would start from a mere 3pages to as long as 18 pages (both sides). Letters from my sister Olivia whichwould start with ‘Oh you know what happened!’ and half way through she’d write ‘Ohwhy am I writing this? I’ll tell you all about it when you come home for the holidays’(Exasperating because by the time am homethe subject in the letter would be far from our minds, as we nit-pick on each other’sfaults all through the holidays). Nathania, my cousin sister whom we allthought hated to write, wrote to me emptying her heart out in those letters. Ifound letters from Kiran and Koyal – their English vocabulary skills were superlativeeven then. Sanda’s letters while endearing were a handwriting masterpiece. Thatgood was her handwriting! Eugenia’s letters would make up a diary about theangst of a girl growing up, falling in love and all that is beautiful and nice (God bless her. Eugi is now married andhappily running around her two little girls).There were letters from Jenny,Meda, one or two from Christine. Oh Ashish, wrote letters too. Because of whathe was then and who he is now, the journey takes me to a reflective wondermentof his life.

There was also a letter from anold priest I met on the way from Delhi to Dwarahat who gave me a lift in hisbroken-down jeep when our bus broke down. He made sure I reached college safeand sound. He was one of those angels I keep meeting in most of my journeys.The fact that there was a letter from him inquiring about my well-being is an absolution(I don’t know where he is now, if he is still alive but with every thought of him,I send up a thankful prayer).

These were my letters then. They are still my love letters now. Loveletters- cherished then, preserved all through these decades, and will always beenshrined as my valuables to posterity.

THE HEART-WRINGER, CLOSEST TO MY HEART

What sent me into an emotionalupheaval of disconsolation on one second; smiles and cathartic sobbing in thenext second was the letters from my mother.

I forgot I had them. With eachone that I read, it brought back memories of years gone back, of what we had,what we could have had, what could have been. Mom wrote to me since the time I steppedout of the house. She continued writing them so much so that I became blameworthyof taking her and her letters for granted. She had poured out her heart in them.Her wishes and desires for her daughters (Olivia and me), her humble dreams forher family, her love for dad, her commitment as a mother, a doctor, and a counselorto every young soul she comes across.

As I was growing up miles awayfrom her, she would write letters of instructions, encouragements and prayers.She wrote about the world how unkind it could be and yet, how with love,compassion and kindness one could survive the world. She would reprimand mewhen am wrong, acknowledge my efforts when I try – ALL THROUGH HER LETTERS.

Mom wrote to me last when she waslying on her bed, fighting against cancer.

24^th August, 2009 isthe date on the letter.

Her letters are a part of her legacy.Her letters would pull me through a bad day then,and lift-up my spirits now.

Through her love letters, shestill speaks to me…

Give me your eyes

2011-03-03T16:06:00.001+05:30

Look down from a broken sky
Traced out by the city lights
My world from a mile high
Best seat in the house tonight

Touch down on the cold black top
Hold on for the sudden stop
Breath in the familiar shock
Of confusion and chaos

All those people going somewhere
Why have I never cared
Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

Step out on a busy street
See a girl and our eyes meet
Does her best to smile at me
To hide what’s underneath

There's a man just to her right
Black suit and a bright red tie
Too ashamed to tell his wife
He's out of work, He's buying time

All those people going somewhere
Why have I never cared
Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the ones forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

I’ve been here a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just move and pass me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
I need a second glance
Give me a second chance
To see the way you’ve seen the people all along

P.S. This is a song by Brandon Heath

A Petition

2011-02-28T13:09:00.001+05:30

Dear Lord,

There is a man somewhere in this great country whose heart has been broken too many times, whose spirit has been crushed far too many moments. He’s had to drink from the cup of sorrow and bitterness time and again. He believed in a dream and dared to follow it through. Somewhere along the way the dream went horribly wrong, pulling him far away from his only wife and children, drawing a wedge between him and his loved ones, unloved, despised and judged, he walk alone. Then a dreadful disease killed his wife. His grief was unfathomable. While his heart weeps in silent, life moves on pulling him into a quicksand of hopelessness. He’s like a prisoner in his own life. But smiled he did. “It will be okay”, is what he would always say to his children. He portrays an eternal optimism, positive that things will work out. He strives on still believing his dream because there is no other way. He is caught between a wall and a hard rock.

Last evening his father passed away. I heard his broken voice, dear Lord. He could not bid goodbye to his father. He cannot attend to his last rites. The stake on his life is too high.

He is your son, dear Lord, father in heaven. Oh what troubles this man has to undergo. Have mercy on him, we beseech you. Save him. Send comfort to his tired soul, his broken spirit. Pull him up from the quagmire he has fallen into. Give him victory dear Lord. Anoint his head with oil and let his cup overflow with goodness and love all the days of his life…

There is a daughter, a young vibrant girl who is bogged down by the cares and worries events in her life has thrown her way. She’s taken up the mantle of being a loving daughter, a responsible sister, mothering her loved ones while catering to the concerns of her job. Give her strength and wisdom. Give her the calmness she needs to execute things; the peace she needs to think clearly; and love to surround her, embrace her, and uplift her spirit.

As for me I seek for patience, perseverance and continual faith to uphold my love ones in prayer. In my helplessness, in our frailty, we turn to you dear father in heaven…

Amen

My memory of Christmas past....

2010-12-20T15:11:00.001+05:30

is a song we were taught...

It's Christmas time
There's no need to be afraid
At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade
And in our world of plenty we can spread a smile of joy

Throw your arms around the world at Christmas time

But say a prayer
Pray for the other ones
At Christmas time it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life
(Oooh) Where nothing ever grows
No rain nor rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all

(Here's to you) raise a glass for everyone
(Here's to them) underneath that burning sun
Do they know it's Christmas time at all

Feed the world, feed the world, feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again

Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again

This is me

2010-11-20T13:09:00.000+05:30

(Watched the movie Guzaarish last night. It's a tear jerker no doubt.However it spoke to me on a different level.The protagonist Ethan Mascarenhas (Hrithik Roshan) 's plight struck a chord of my life...what was, what could have been and who I am now. There are still shadows I'll have to deal with cause shadows don't go away...they stay with you. Faith Hill sang the song 'This is me'. I could have sung it too)

Yeah I have my addictions
And keep my share of secrets
And things you'll never see
I get selfish and defensive
And pay too much attention to my insecurities
Oh I'm just like everybody else
I try to love Jesus and myself

I don't know what you believe
Or what you think of what you see
But this is a part of me
What i do and who i am
All my impurities
Are right here on my sleeve
This is me
This is me

My heart break for the homeless
I worry about my parents
And all my bills are late
I'm dealing with the changes
This complicated Strangeness
Of seeing life this way
I'm just like everybody else
I try to love Jesus and myself

I laugh at silly movies
Tear up when i see babies
And I'm stubborn as a stone
I criticize my body
I wonder if I'm ready
To ever be alone
Oh I'm just like everybody else
I cry like everybody else

(P.S. Thank you HimS for being there)

My conversation lump

2010-11-19T19:43:00.002+05:30

Yes, the last time I felt a lump on my throat and could not speak was just yesterday.
Hold on to your horses. Don't fret. I am talking about a figurative lump.

The lump I’m referring to is a ‘conversation stumper’.

A conversation stumper (cliffhanger) is a topic or a thing, if brought up, will put at least one of the parties ill-at-ease. If continued, it has the potential of ending all dialogues between the two parties. For the time being, of course!

(If not then India and Pakistan would have stopped dialogues on Kashmir long ago).

There are many such lumps we come across almost everyday.

‘Two friends sitting at a coffee shop, strained smiles and chit-chats. Moments ago, both had a religious debate. One had applauded the Christian missionaries for the many educational institutions they’ve set up. The other, a born hindu vehemently argued it to be a Christian conversion tactic.’

‘Both wife and husband retired to their bedroom at night in silence. What started off as a normal family dinner that night, turned distressing when her mother-in-law was conspicuously critical of her kitchen skills. Her husband,did nothing to redeem her image in front of his mother.’

‘A usually vibrant group of friendly colleagues were unusually silent that day. They stood together and yet were apart on their smoking break.Each one was unhappy with ones performance review and not really exuberant of the others’ promotion’

Religion, issues with the mother-in-law, salary variation are just some of the various conversation stumpers I have heard of.

I am sure there are many out there, trivial ones or otherwise.

But the biggest conversation stumper for me is the issue of my marriage.

Yeah, you heard that right!

M.A.R.R.I.A.G.E

Not just any marriage but my marriage.

The fact that I am not married as yet seems to tickle so many people I know. It’s funny if only it does not get exasperating for me!

Let me give you an example.

I was so happy to meet a friend after ages. Its almost 9 years since we’ve last seen each other. Of course, we’ve been in touch.She got married, moved to the US, has a little boy since the last time we met. Bravo! Happiest for her, I am.

But there is one topic that always drives her nuts and me nuttier. Yeah, it’s about my marriage. Sigh.

A typical conversation would be…

‘ aur batao. When are you getting married?’ she’ll ask.

‘ Aww, come on, you know me…it will happen when it will’, would be my typical and sincere answer.

‘ Come on dear, think about yourself sometimes. It’s high time. I know you are independent but think about the later years. How can you be alone?’,she’ll reprimand me.

….. And on and on it goes until I could successfully change the topic to her little boy, how fast he’s grown and how naughty he’s getting.

My friend isn’t the only one nagging me on this.

There are other friends.

There is this one who would suddenly scream in the middle of a telephone conversation (maybe some spirit seizes her body at the time, who knows)…

‘CC!!!, get married na!’…

Stunned for a second, I would then react ‘What the…what got into you?!’ (shush…I don’t want to offend her by mentioning about the spirit)

Then in a contrite, cajoling voice she would say,‘Arey, get married na. I want to play with your small small….small… chubby kids. They would be so cute’

Heavens!, she not only wants me to get married but she has already predicted that I’ll have many chubby kids :- )

My friends have such beautiful thoughts for me. Touching and endearing, it is.

But I repeat (at the risk of sounding highly piss off), it is so exasperating!

It changes the entire tone of the conversation because one party (that’s me obviously) is not entirely gung-ho about the subject.

For all of the questioners out there, let me set things straight:

No, I don’t think marriage is useless, un-necessary or society’s way of legalizing sex.
I am not a case of once bitten twice-shy. I have not given up on love because love has given up on me (once upon a time)
I am not too career-oriented or driven, the so called ‘high-flying, aggressive, modern woman’ you have in mind
When you whine about problems in your marriages, I understand and empathize. I don’t gloat or say ‘I told you so’
I am of the opinion that marriage is a beautiful institution, a nurturing set-up for any couple, a healthy set-up for bringing up kids and it gives birth to wholesome families
While I believe in marriage, it is not my sole purpose in life. It is not a destination. If along my journey, marriage greets me, I’ll welcome it.
For now, I’ll continue to love, to live and to give fully.

Marriage or no marriage, I'll live abundantly and victoriously.

Signing off with the hope that I would not be asked this question again…

Impossible wish, I know...

Parting on a lighter note... enjoy this image...

Wish you were here

2010-10-27T01:35:00.001+05:30

I’m not sure you’d noticed that the nights

seems a tad longer,

The morning comes, it still does;

I wake up to one less sparrow chirping

everyday,

Since the day you went away.

I’m not sure if you know that your garden

sings of spring time,

Red and yellow roses true, some bonsais

too;

All for you,

All because of you.

For every new day that comes by,

For every day that you’re gone,

Home isn’t what it should be,

Without you, it’ll never be the same.

It isn’t the same now…

Nay, it’ll never be the same tomorrow,

Love you as I do, I’ll always miss you,

Grave and forlorn, I wish for you…

I wish you were here.

Flower in the rain

2010-10-13T20:58:00.000+05:30

You are the one, there's no one else
Who lifts me up
And gives me water from the well

But there's a hole
That seems to drain it all away
And once again I'm left in fear and doubt
When all my strength is crying out

The evil wind, it blows a storm
To rock my world
Just when I think I'm safe and warm

I'm led astray far too easily
It's always hard for me to say I'm wrong
Until I know I can't go on

So here I am again
Willing to be opened up and broken like a flower in the rain
Tell me what have I to do
To die and then be raised
To reach beyond the pain
Like a flower in the rain

Rhythmic Moves

2010-10-05T19:37:00.001+05:30

The music keeps changing around me. Every change requires new moves.

You need poise, gracefulness along with strength and agility.

Whether you tango with your partner, or you foxtrot with a group, you need to be in rhythm with the music.Look at the cha-cha-cha for instance, marked with energy and slow moves, the appeal lies in the rhythm.Whether it’s sensual ramba or the flirtatious salsa, the music will lead.A dance is all about finding a form of expression and enjoying it to the fullest.

Music and dance moves, all come together beautifully!

So do your plans, your hopes, your aspirations, your dreams.

You dance to the moment, to the emotion, to that gut instinct compelling you to move forward, to the reasoning in your mind, every day, and every second of your living.

Somehow somewhere there is music playing to which you dance. In a moment of lucidity, you often realized that somehow your plans had come through (maybe via another path),

hopes were justified, aspirations were met and dreams were lived. It is nature’s way.

She got married last month to her beau of 6 years, earned a PhD in Zoology, while aspiring to be the proverbial khasi-youngest daughter, taking care of her parents(The khasis are a tribe in the north-east of

India

. As per custom, the youngest daughter takes care of the well being of the parents in old-age).

She’d said she wanted educational qualifications. She’d said she wanted a man who’ll love her for keeps. She’d said she’ll take care of her mother and grand-parents.She is doing it all now.

Nature says yes!

He had always wanted to be the best in whatever he aspired to be. He achieved it, while bringing new life and hope to his widower father.Right now he aspires to venture into a new field. Slight fears trouble him but the dream tantalizes him.Knowing him, he’ll make it happen.

Nature says yes!

Another one fought for her marriage, got married and still struggles for acceptance.

Yet another had quit his job to become a free lance concept designer/artist; stressed out, while past relationships makes a come back. He is ducking the bullets right now.

There is one who seemed settled and all set for a good life. But he is pull down by health issues and a stirring need to fulfill an unknown calling.

Like a ship sailing with the sails down, he is.

The above are stories of people I have come across and loved. We've seen ourselves through childhood, clumsy adolescence and hanging on through adulthood, now.I have more stories to tell.Point is,I see a constant pattern in all of them. As long as the music is playing, acceptance will be hers; the nozzle of the gun would close, no more bullets for him to dodge; and the sails of his ship will be up.

Nature says yes!

My life is no stranger to it all. The music keeps changing.

At 19, we made plans on how we wanted life to shape up.

Love,financial independence, a good job and position, was what I asked for.

Marriage was in the cards but never the destination.
Between then and now, life happened. It threw plans out of gear, tested me beyond understanding.My nerves were frazzled. My emotions felt grinded, violated, butchered.

In the midst of it all, I find myself independent with a job, financially secured (for now), and in love for keeps.

I am my own woman.

Nature says yes!

Lately I have a need for solitude and seclusion. For those who know the gregarious me, it’s alarming.

But I think I am in the crossroads of something life changing (maybe).

I am not deeply troubled by it because if nature says yes, then the music would still play and dance, I will.

When the music changes, so does the dance.

A Pocket Full Of Stones

2010-09-26T18:28:00.000+05:30

He is leaning on the sign-post,
He's got nothing left but time;
He is just another old man, the people pass by
But across the busy midway, a little boy's been watching him
He walks up and say, hey mister,don't you have a friend?
And the old man gently smiles,and the boy is not afraid.
He says i want to share my treasure,it might make everything okay.

I've got a pocket full of stones, all of them are lucky,
They might got your home, they're not make believe,
This one here is for love, that's what mama says we all need
Here why don't you take some, you might need them more than me

What's your name, the man says Charlie
And The boy says mine is Pete.
Take as many as you want to,
I'll find more down at the creek
Pick a good one, that one's laughter,
And look this one stops the rain
See my mama's over there watching, she likes the white one, its for grace

Charlie's eyes filled up with tears,just knowing somewhere cares..
Pete just gave the gift of kindness,and play God's angel unaware

An unwanted guest: Sinusitis

2010-08-30T17:28:00.001+05:30

I slept through the first half of the movie Inception. My friend jokingly commented ‘You got incepted’.

In the recent weeks I found a cradle.

No. Not my bed.

The 3-wheeled cabin cycle that grunts its way through the haphazard traffic in Bangalore streets, popularly known as the auto-rickshaw is my bassinet.

In the 45 mins ride from home to office, I undergo at least 2 stages of sleep. Each time I woke up when the disgruntle vehicle rudely rouse me up. Then off I go comatose again.

It makes up as a good story during snacks time in office.

My team-mates take turns in joking about it. They imagine hilarious situations where I could fall asleep landing myself in an awkward plight.

All is good, until it dawn on me that my old friend Sinusitis is back!

Sigh.

It’s a drag to wake up in the morning. A huge annoyance!

The head weighs a ton, you slowly pull through the day, wanting to sleep all the time.

I need to take care of this unwanted guest

But, arghhh… steam inhalation is too much work. Damn.

YAWN

Cast down sheep...

2010-08-29T13:39:00.003+05:30

Today while meditating & praying,I came across this passage that pinpoints what we often feel. It's nice to know that we can chose to turn to our Shepherd, the author and keeper of our lives. He restores our souls.
This is an excerpt from one of the chapters in 'Our Daily Bread (Annual Edition 2010)'

In his classic book A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, W. Phillip Keller gives a striking picture of the care and gentleness of a shepherd. In verse 3 when David says, “He restores my soul,” he uses language every shepherd would understand.

Sheep are built in such a way that if they fall over on their side and then onto their back, it is very difficult for them to get up again. They flail their legs in the air, bleat, and cry. After a few hours on their backs, gas begins to collect in their stomachs, the stomach hardens, the air passage is cut off, and the sheep will eventually suffocate. This is referred to as a “cast down” position.
When a shepherd restores a cast down sheep, he reassures it, massages its legs to restore circulation, gently turns the sheep over, lifts it up, and holds it so it can regain its equilibrium.
What a picture of what God wants to do for us! When we are on our backs, flailing because of guilt, grief, or grudges, our loving Shepherd reassures us with His grace, lifts us up, and holds us until we’ve gained our spiritual equilibrium.
If you’ve been cast down for any reason, God is the only one who can help you get on your feet again. He will restore your confidence, joy, and strength.

My confession: I have felt like a cast down sheep many times
My testimony: A hand has always reached out to me at the lowest ebbs of those times, hug me, soothing me and helped me get up on my feet.

Thank you my Shepherd.

My niece's right...

2010-08-27T20:10:00.002+05:30

Out of the blue, my 2.5 years old niece, moved her hips, slides her little hands from her chest to her tiny butt crooning
‘Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby noo
Like baby, baby, baby ooh’

Stupefied, shell-shocked, we all stopped whatever we were doing, stood agape for a few seconds, before we all burst into laughter!

The little one was belting out Justins Bieber’s ‘Baby’ song & doing his moves.

Lily, Charlotte’s adopted kid in ‘Sex and the city’, picked up a ringing cell-phone & said, ‘Sex’ into the phone. She’d picked up the word from the conversations the adult women were having around her.

I go all warm & softy inside when the little boy Ray in Jerry Macquire movie says ‘D'you know that the human head weighs 8 pounds?’ and then goes into giggling fits, apparently proud of what he just said, even though am unsure if he understood the weight of his statement.

Kids are so impressionable!

They imitate us. They see what we do, hear what we say. Their mind gets a ‘validation message’ that it’s a good thing to do, right thing to say.

The news that my 16th year old cousin sister and my 11 year old niece are ‘on a new fad diet’ is a concern. The obsession with being thin or becoming reed-like thin, is not a new fad amongst teenagers and adults. But the fact that it’s becoming a trend with kids as young as 8 years is disturbing.

Advertisements like the ‘New Garnier Hair Color’ which sends messages like:

Your worth is the worth of your hair. If your hair greys-out ( bad hair, not so good looks etc)
1. your boyfriend would ignore you or leave you
2. other boys would not show interest in you
Two mutually exclusive events: grey hair and an ignoring boyfriend have been deftly molded, to make it look as if they are dependant of each other (cause-effect).

--- does not help!

The much criticized Fair and Lovely commercials too are so misguiding for young impressionable minds.
You are beautiful only if you are fair - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubbufbkbovY

You are job worthy only if you are fair and beautiful - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2a1iXt1yPsk&feature=related

I love my niece and my sister.
I wish that they grow up into emotionally stable, physically confident, morally upright, wholesome individuals.

Their self esteem should not be hampered by such visual feeds.

I vote for more wholesome Dove commercials. Their campaign for real beauty , an effort towards societal change in redefining beauty is commendable.

Real juice commercial promoting ‘healthy lifestyle’ is laudable.

Cute as it is when she warbles ‘Baby, baby, baby ooh
Like baby, baby, baby noo
Like baby, baby, baby ooh’,

I pray that my niece would be arm with the right information to make the right choices.
As she grows up, life happens, she'll bid goodbye to innocence.

She might not sleep this peacefully at 30 years, but I hope she gets all that she needs to keep emotionally fit, mentally sharp, and is able to live to her fullest potential.

It's her right.

Wake up Corr!

2010-08-25T05:46:00.001+05:30

3:30 am, awake in Bangalore city, alone, working into the wee hours of the morning.
Lately it’s become a routine.

No, I am not in office.

I am in the confines of my bedroom, sitting in bed, propped up by pillows, cradling the laptop on my lap (how apt!), trouble-shooting reported bugs, responding to queries from my counterparts in the US.
While it’s the dawn of my today, for them it’s the evening of my yesterday.

Most nights it’s quiet. I work in silence. Sometimes, an imaginary ghost does send a chill down my spine; that is, if I allow my mind to wander.

Sometimes, a sense of loneliness takes me by surprise. Its coldness brings up a charge of tears.

At other times, your mind gets lost in thoughts of someone dear. It’s ironic that in such moments of melancholic silence, that one person who swore to be by your side is out of sight.

My cell phone lies beside me. I yearn to pick it up and make a call, nip the misery and solitude at the bud. But realization sets in.

There was a time when you could call a friend anytime, anyplace, whether in sunshine or amidst a storm. Now, I can only remember those bygone years.

Today, it’s selfish to expect, it’s impolite to visit without having made an appointment first. People are wary to commit because of the fear of expectations. Give me your time, give me your love, but please don’t expect the same. That’s the mantra.

The other day I read a quote which said:

‘The worst in life is ‘attachment’. It hurts when you lose it. The best thing in life is ‘loneliness’ because it teaches you everything and when you lose it, you get everything’.

Whoever came up with this must have had it real bad, to come up with such an over-stretched, trying hard to make it sound good statement.

But alas, it’s an undeniable truth. We are a generation 24/7 connected (cell phones, internet, gizmos and all sorts of gadgets, what have we not?). But emotionally, we are disconnected from oneself, from our peers and those who matter. Emotionally bankrupt, we are.

It’s raining outside.
I can hear the pitter patter of the raindrops, the swishing sounds of the leaves as they sway in the breeze.

Likewise, my mind wanders.

How did I get to where I am now?
At the beck and call of a job, when did work-life balance go so askew?
Putting my priorities in the wrong set of things, wrong set of people, is like feeding my pearls to pigs.
Bad food, bad habits, less sleep, no exercise, we all started out swearing we wouldn’t succumb. Scattering and unaligned priorities, in the blink of an eye, we’ve fallen hook line and sinker into a pitiable lifestyle.

Ting!
There goes the email alarm in my outlook inbox.

It’s 4:15am.
Another query to answer, electronically!

I’ll do that and then maybe my laptop would crash and I’ll catch my Zzzz’s.

No worries.
I am not yet at the point of no return.

I can still swing my life around. Right back up, to where it belongs!

To where I belong…

For the Wounded in Love

2010-08-24T01:16:00.000+05:30

Read this & I dig it.

It's from Paul Coelho's blog.

Wanted to share this with you:

Convention for those wounded in love (ENG, PORT ESPA) Â« Paulo Coelhoâ€™s Blog

http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2010/08/21/convention-of-those-wounded-in-love-2/

General provisions:

A – Whereas the saying “all is fair in love and war” is absolutely correct;

B – Whereas for war we have the Geneva Convention, approved on 22 August 1864, which provides for those wounded in the battle field, but until now no convention has been signed concerning those wounded in love, who are far greater in number;

It is hereby decreed that:

Article 1 – All lovers, of any sex, are alerted that love, besides being a blessing, is also something extremely dangerous, unpredictable and capable of causing serious damage. Consequently, anyone planning to love should be aware that they are exposing their body and soul to various types of wounds, and that they shall not be able to blame their partner at any moment, since the risk is the same for both.

Article 2 – Once struck by a stray arrow fired from Cupid’s bow, they should immediately ask the archer to shoot the same arrow in the opposite direction, so as not to be afflicted by the wound known as “unrequited love”. Should Cupid refuse to perform such a gesture, the Convention now being promulgated demands that the wounded partner remove the arrow from his/her heart and throw it in the garbage. In order to guarantee this, those concerned should avoid telephone calls, messages over the Internet, sending flowers that are always returned, or each and every means of seduction, since these may yield results in the short run but always end up wrong after a while. The Convention decrees that the wounded person should immediately seek the company of other people and try to control the obsessive thought: “this person is worth fighting for”.

Article 3 – If the wound is caused by third parties, in other words if the loved one has become interested in someone not in the script previously drafted, vengeance is expressly forbidden. In this case, it is allowed to use tears until the eyes dry up, to punch walls or pillows, to insult the ex-partner in conversations with friends, to allege his/her complete lack of taste, but without offending their honor. The Convention determines that the rule contained in Article 2 be applied: seek the company of other persons, preferably in places different from those frequented by the other party.

Article 4 – In the case of light wounds, herein classified as small treacheries, fulminating passions that are short-lived, passing sexual disinterest, the medicine called Pardon should be applied generously and quickly. Once this medicine has been applied, one should never reconsider one’s decision, not even once, and the theme must be completely forgotten and never used as an argument in a fight or in a moment of hatred.

Article 5 – In all definitive wounds, also known as “breaking up”, the only medicine capable of having an effect is called Time. It is no use seeking consolation from fortune-tellers (who always say that the lost lover will return), romantic books (which always have a happy ending), soap-operas on the television or other such things. One should suffer intensely, completely avoiding drugs, tranquilizers and praying to saints. Alcohol is only tolerated if kept to a maximum of two glasses of wine a day.

Final determination:

Those wounded in love, unlike those wounded in armed conflict, are neither victims nor torturers. They chose something that is part of life, and so they have to accept both the agony and the ecstasy of their choice.

And those who have never been wounded in love will never be able to say: “I have lived”. Because they haven’t.

Get your Zzzzzzz's

2010-08-16T18:18:00.002+05:30

It was my final term MBA paper at the institute.
Scoring an A on Business Strategy was the last leg of my run.
It was my key to the hall of fame for 8.point.something CGPA holders.
An hour left, it was time to start on the 40 marks C section. I literally saw the letters blurring out. A single line appeared twice. I couldn’t read. My head started spinning. I stood up, ran to the washroom, pop in a stemetil (thinking it was a migraine attack) and gingerly walked back to the examination hall. I attempted to write but how could I, if I could not read. To cut this story short, I submitted an incomplete paper and landed a C.

Wanna hear a funny story?
Here goes…

I attended a final job interview, looking (presumably) dapper in a salwar-kurta piece.
The interview went well. After the interview, I headed off to the job I was holding then.
Sometime later, a colleague walked up to me and pointed out that I was wearing my kurta inside-out.
I looked down.
Seeing the inside stitching standing out in all its glory, I shrieked!

Red faced, I realized what I had done.
I had attended an interview with the insides of my kurta all hanging out, so to speak.
This was 4 years ago. I laughed at it now of-course (Btw, I did get the job. Maybe, wearing clothes inside-out is my lucky charm. :P )

Walking into a room and forgetting why I got there, forgetting my employee number, atm pin, phone number, a friend’s name (not kidding), fumbling over words while speaking, are all not signs of dementia, for me.

They were simple signs of ‘lack of sleep’.
The night before the final interview, I was on a night shift. For two nights before my Business Strategy paper, I was up awake studying for other papers.

Last week, I was doing an almost all night-all day shift at work. Intermittent sleep, short stressful naps for 5 whole days, took a toll on me. My skin broke up zits, my back ached, my body retained water, in short, my body was screaming for rest. A deep sleep on Friday night, wasn’t enough. All through Saturday afternoon, I was still tired and drowsy.
I slept through the weekend.

The usual me would have called it a wash-out, flop, disappointing, complete fiasco weekend.
Why?
Simply cause I slept through the only 2 days in a week, the only days I can socialize, meet people, eat, drink and make merry!

But, no I wouldn’t say that.
Because by cutting down on sleep “we learn less, we develop less, we are less bright, we make worse decisions, we accomplish less, we are less productive, we are more prone to errors, and we undermine our true intellectual potential”
I read an article on sleep by Poitr Woiznak who studied student personalities for over 10 years now(http://tinyurl.com/23vqp3w). The crux of his findings can be expressed in this one sentence ‘Sleeping well appears to be one of the most important factors underlying the success in learning’.

Naturally, common-sense would tell us that this holds true for all walks of life. We are more energetic, optimistic, stress-tolerant, attentive and able to take quick good decisions only after a good night sleep.

Reading his article further, I was astonished by these startling facts:

• 40% of truck accidents are attributable to fatigue and drowsiness
• There is an 800% increase in single vehicle commercial truck accidents between midnight and 8 am.
• Major industrial disasters have been attributed to sleep deprivation (among these, at least in part, Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, the gas leak at Bhopal, Zeebrugge disaster, and the Exxon Valdez oil spill). (This fact was a shocker! )
o Three mile island disaster -http://preview.tinyurl.com/2j92yt
o Chernobyl gas leak disaster - http://tinyurl.com/yra55a

In all the above disasters, one common cause you’ll find is the human-factor. In general, a human factor is a physical or cognitive property of an individual or social behavior which is specific to humans and influences functioning of technological systems as well as human-environment equilibriums. The Human Factor Model, in its study of the science of understanding the properties of human capability, has highlighted the importance of ‘rest and proper sleep’ for the optimal performance of any worker in any industry.

Robert Stickgold, assistant professor of psychiatry at Massachusetts Mental Health Center came up with 3 concepts:
• As we snooze, our brain is busily processing the information we have learned during the day.
• Sleep makes memories stronger, and it even appears to weed out irrelevant details and background information so that only the important pieces remain.
• Our brain also works during slumber to find hidden relations among memories and to solve problems we were working on while awake

How can a simple snooze make most of your problems lighter if not go away completely? Incredible!

But Robert Stickgold must surely know what he was talking about because he is a preeminent sleep researcher and has dedicated his life to understanding the relationship between sleep and learning (I wiki him out).

And then I found this video:

I guess I’ve said enough.
I hope I’ve equip you with enough food for thought (which you can process after a good night sleep, of course) on the importance of sleep.

I’ll leave you with a few statistics on sleep :
(FYI:- I tried to look for statistics by Indian researchers. But all I could find are by the AASM- American Academy of Sleep Medicine)

• Humans spend about 1/3 of their lives asleep.
• Newborns need about 16 to 20 hours of sleep per day.
• During adolescence a change in the body clock keeps most teens from feeling sleepy until 10 p.m. or later.
• Adults who don’t get enough sleep tend to act sluggish, but sleep-deprived children may be hyperactive.
• Sleeping less than seven hours per night increases your risk of obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease and depression.
• Drowsy driving is associated with almost 20 percent of all serious car-crash injuries.
• During a full night of sleep most adults go through four to six sleep cycles that each last about 90 minutes to 110 minutes.
• During the stage of rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, your limb muscles become temporarily paralyzed to prevent you from acting out your dreams.
• It is estimated that 50 million to 70 million Americans suffer from a chronic sleep disorder.
• People with untreated sleep apnea have a higher rate of death due to heart disease.
• Insomnia is the most common sleep complaint, affecting about 30 percent of adults.
• For every time zone that you cross during a flight, it takes your body about one day to adjust.

Just a reminder (not a scare tactic ): The real killer of Ranjan Das, CEO and MD of SAP Indian subcontinent was lack of sleep. (http://jaipar.multiply.com/journal/item/1099)

Seriously, go get your Zzzzzz’s people!

If I live long, I don’t want to live alone :P

I am not a fan of fat sloppy lazy lasagne-crazy Garfield.
But he is my sleeping hero.
Hail Garfield!

To love you more...

2010-08-10T19:53:00.002+05:30

In search of Aurora

2010-08-08T00:17:00.002+05:30

(Rambling at midnight...restless spirit, disturbed soul)

Back were the days when skipping rocks on a pond,
Leapfrogging on the lawn,
Light spirited, fun was a norm.
Blithe and breezy, jovial and sunny;
Like Peter, I’d shout, “I’m youth and I am joy.
I’m a little bird that has grown out of the egg”.

Quietly the fog descended over the hills,
So you learn to toil, and it soon became drudgery.
Loaded is laughter, tinge by melancholy.
Here and there, now and then,
One taste of glory,
One mouthful of sky.

The heart is indeed a lonely hunter,
For the one that walks besides you is your shadow,
Awaiting the break of dawn, longing for my aurora.

Ma façon de vivre

2010-08-02T13:23:00.001+05:30

Life continues to test me.It seems to be saying 'I will be all over you like a moth on a streetlight, buzzing around trying to find out all i can about you'.

Life never fails to surprise me. Everyday I learn something new.

There is nothing that I've learned and imbibed so far that have not been experienced by someone else out there. These are some of their thoughts which i share.

‘Honor your father and mother,' and 'love your neighbor as yourself.' – Mathew 19:19

‘One of the things my parents taught me, and I'll always be grateful for the gift, is to not ever let anybody else define me.’ - Wilma Mankiller

‘Love and kindness are never wasted. They always make a difference. They bless the one who receives them, and they bless you, the giver.’- Barbara De Angelis

‘Love is a choice you make from moment to moment.’- Barbara De Angelis

‘The most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention.... A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well-intentioned words.’ - Rachel Naomi Remen

‘You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’- Eleanor Roosevelt

‘The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart.’-Elizabeth Foley

‘The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.’- Theodore Hesburgh

‘Faith by itself, if not accompanied by action is dead’ – James 2:17

‘Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?’ -Mathew

A choice :-)

In Better Hands

2010-07-31T16:26:00.002+05:30

I thought of you today,
How you've touched our lives just a year ago.
I tried to pen down my thoughts for you,
But emotions got the better of me.
Suffice to say, you are always in our hearts and we love you so much.
Knowing you, you would have smiled and say that you are 'in better hands'.
We love you Shariba.

Found this song -- Reminds me of you. In better hands by Natalie Grant.

An unspoken art: The art of receiving

2010-07-30T18:52:00.002+05:30

The art of gifting is well celebrated. Festivals such as diwali, durga puja, raksha bandhan, especially christmas epitomizes the value of gifting. Every occasion celebrated by young and old alike: valentines day, mothers day, fathers day, friendship day, daughters day, teachers day actualize and exemplify gift-giving.

Some of these festivities exist as a remembrance of some historic event such as the birth of Christ (Christmas), the return of Lord Rama to his kingdom of Ayodhya after defeating Ravana (Diwali).Others had their birthing when an individual or two started a cause base on their convictions.

Let’s see some examples.

Mother's Day was established by Anna Marie Jarvis, following the death of her mother Ann Jarvis on May 9, 1905. She then campaigned to establish Mother's Day first as a U.S. national holiday and then later as an international holiday.

The first observance of Father's Day took place in Fairmont, West Virginia on July 5, 1908. The special day was organized by Mrs. Grace Golden Clayton, who wanted to celebrate the lives of the 210 fathers who had been lost in the Monongah Mining disaster several months earlier in Monongah, West Virginia, on December 6, 1907

Oh yes, these events were soon commercialized by traders and marketers, promoting their goods and services. Fathers day was in no time capitalize by ‘the Associated Men's Wear Retailers’. They formed a National Father's Day Committee in New York City in the 1930s, which was renamed in 1938 to ‘National Council for the Promotion of Father's Day’ and incorporated several other trade groups. This council had the goals of legitimizing the holiday in the mind of the people and managing the holiday as a commercial event in a more systematic way, in order to boost the sales during the holiday.

Another heavily commercialized event would be Valentine’s Day. It is said to have originated in pagan times when people celebrated February 14 in honor of Roman God of Fertility. This February fertility festival celebration that also marked the beginning of spring was known as the Feast of Lupercalia. Today, going on dates with a beloved is a major way of celebrating Valentine’s day. Restaurants see a busy time as people celebrate the day of romance with a candle light dinner. People participate in Valentine's Day dance parties and balls organized by various clubs and hotels, private parties are hosted in homes and farmhouses where young and old have a blast. Some couple use the occasion to propose their beloved while some chose to get engaged on the festival that celebrates love and lovers.

We mark each of these festivals and events by giving gifts to one another.

It is a beautiful art of love, affection, appreciation. No doubt, an endearing act.

I am particularly enchanted when I read about the Japanese. Omiyage – art of giving is religiously followed by them. For a gift, omiyage in Japanese, presentation is of high importance. For them, quality and attention to details are hallmarks of well a well-chosen omiyage (read: http://tinyurl.com/2vzuoje )

For most of us the worthiness of the gift, has nothing to do with monetary value and everything to do with love. At least, that is one thing my mom has taught me. She also taught me that one does not need an occasion or an event to take place to honor someone in your life. This legacy, I humbly try to follow.

The art of giving is indeed beautiful.

It’s been commended, extolled, flattered, paid homage to and written about. ( “The five love languages” by Gary Chapman. Get it at amazon.com - http://tinyurl.com/36ljkn )

There is one art that is unspoken even though it is as important as the art of giving.

It’s the art of receiving.

How many of us are gracious, tasteful and elegant gift-receivers?

In my experience, I find people with receiving issues.

I remember gifting a watch to someone. His first reaction was ‘Why?’ followed by a smile of course. He was reluctant in receiving it, mouthing that as much as he appreciated the gesture, it would have cost me a bomb to get it. After much debating, he finally accepted it with whatever grace he could muster. I was glad he kept it, but whatever joy I felt in my act of appreciating his presence in my life, bombed.

The first step in the art of receiving is ‘To express appreciate by saying Thank You’.

Two simple words, joined together to convey ‘a considerate, respectful, satisfied, favorable’ emotion.

The second step is ‘To recognize and appreciate that it is a joy for people to give’.

You need to be comfortable with who you are and accept others for who they are, to be able to appreciate.

I sometimes wonder if the same grouchy receivers are also grumpy givers.

Maybe they imagine that they need to reciprocate by giving (gifting) back.

Not necessarily. Most gift-givers do not look at gifting as a barter system. I give you a watch, you give me a bracelet. If such people exist, be clear, I am not talking about them.

The third step is ‘To willingly receive without feeling the need to give back’.

Sometimes, by appreciatively receiving a gift, you have unconsciously complimented the giver.

The giver feels accepted and acknowledged.

The fourth step is ‘To reciprocate’.

Reciprocation here is to appreciate the giver with a present, maybe at another time.

Though If bugged by impatience, you could reciprocate right away :- )

Remember though that reciprocation can also mean giving your time to that person by spending time with him or her. It can be more valuable than a gift (cash or kind), sometimes.

Not having this fourth receiving art however does not make you a bad receiver.

To conclude, Sarah Ban Breathnach (http://www.simpleabundance.com/ ) said-

"Today, declare to the Universe that you are open to receiving all the abundance it's waiting patiently to bestow. Each day offers us the opportunity to learn that as well as giving, it is blessed to receive with grace and a grateful heart.”

For every cheerful giver, may there always be a thankful receiver

I hope you dance...

2010-07-20T19:16:00.000+05:30

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIAWY4LLsEw

Women De-code

2010-07-15T18:04:00.003+05:30

What are the top 10 things men understand about women?

Ans: 1.
         2.
         3.
         4.
         5.
         6.
         7.
         8.
         9.
         10.

Really? Yes!

It’s a rare ‘true joke’. Speaks volumes, doesn’t it?

English play-writer, William Congreve, said in ‘Love for Love’ (one of his 4 comedies) that,

“Women are like tricks by sleight of hand,

Which, to admire, we should not understand.”

I am sure if a man is reading this he would be nodding his head in agreement.

Many jokes on women, some sexist, some plain funny, have been written through the ages. They all have one common thread of thought in them – Women are complicated. We don’t understand them.

Let’s try to decode a woman’s behavior, shall we?

So, the most logical first step to take is to imagine being in her shoes.

Are you game?

Whoops, did I say something wrong?

Is it too difficult for you to come down from your egoistical ivory tower?

Yes? Aww, no problem. Sip some water, darling. Feeling better now? Yes? Good.

Let’s not make you uncomfortable.

Just sit back and read this if you like.

Let’s talk about a one month life-cycle of any woman.

The month starts with happy-go-lucky days. She looks beautiful, says the most charming

things, she is coy, cute, wear gorgeous hair, has refined-painted-healthy nails and ooh la la, look at that enchanting smile. This woman is in her best element alright. 10 (10 to 15, can vary) days pass by, embroiled in day to day routine, she bungles at a task like the best of men do too, she erupts with joy over good news, is sad over bad news. Point is, if you were from outer space and watched her, you would see nothing ‘out of place’. All of human race, those ones with the balls and those with bosoms, behave more or less the same.

Suddenly, you noticed an unknown spirit seemed to have taken over the gentler creatures of the race. Irritability, tension, dysphoria or unhappiness seeps its way into her being and possesses her for the next 10 days. Some of them have difficulty in falling asleep (insomnia), headache, fatigue, mood swings, increased emotional sensitivity, and changes in libido.Don’t be alarm. What you see is what they call PMS or Premenstrual Syndrome.

The exquisite creature called woman has suddenly bloated, has these small zits called acne on her otherwise flawless delicate face, complains of abdominal cramps, constipation, swelling of the breast, joint or muscle pain.

Shock? Ah, that explains the astonished look and gaping mouth.

Well, guess what? It does not end here.

Conditions that can get magnified for the woman during pre-menstruation include depression or other affective disorders, migraine, seizure disorders, fatigue, irritable bowel syndrome, asthma, and allergies.

And so the woman completes her 20 days of the month.

The next 5 to 7 days, she would be bleeding.

If you think it less troublesome for her, cause by now all of the PMS symptoms would have disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared, you are dead-on wrong.

It can be a period of discomfort cause she would have to take proper care of herself, in terms of hygiene, what to wear and how to carry herself. Normal activities does not stop. They continue, no matter what.

So she completes 25 to 27 days of a month, juggling amongst skyrocketing, see-sawing, wrecking, roller-coaster emotions.

And, it’s month end already.

This is just a month of her life.

Multiply that by 12 months in a year.

Heck, it’s all her life!

Oh do you know, she also gets hit by menopause in the later stage?

And if you think there is a pause in these emotional upheavals, just because there is a pause in ‘meno-pause’, you are again dead-on wrong.

Menopause brings in its own stuffs!

It never ends.

So you still think you don’t understand women, mate? I empathize.

Even as a kindred soul, going through the same things like every woman, I don’t understand women. I don’t attempt to. However, my common sense tells me she needs empathy, understanding and acceptance. And that’s what I do.

All she needs is love.

I agree that the sexist jokes against women are well thought of.

I agree some jokes need to be just that- A Joke.

They are definitely well thought of. Kudos to the writers of these jokes (wishing though that they direct their creativity to more honest-to-goodness, wholesome jokes).

I just hope that they understand why.

For the sensible ones amongst men, do think twice the next time you ‘let out’ on any woman in your life, think twice before you make fat jokes, take time to listen and don’t advice. They just need you to listen.

As for all my women friends, if you want to know more about PMS and how you can prevent it, you can visit sites such as this one - http://women.webmd.com/pms/premenstrual-syndrome-pms-symptoms

To conclude, in all fairness to men, let’s smile at the following joke.

Q: How long does it take for a man to make dinner?

A: As long as it takes for him to get out the belt!

Hold on a second.

You think men have it easy???? :O

You're dead wrong, they have to work up a sweat to keep taking out the belt and putting it back in again.

[Disclaimer:- I am not condescending to men.I have high respect and love them dearly. I know they cry when sad, smile when glad.This post is written as an insight into a woman's world]

That sinking feeling...

2010-07-08T19:48:00.001+05:30

That sinking feeling…

Live, love, cry, lose, bleed, scream;
You’ll live.
You err, you repent, you make up, and you heal;
You’ll live.

Throw caution into the wind,
Free fall if you will.
Crash or burn.
You’ll still live.

Bite more than you can chew.
You’ll grieve, break, pray, ask, beg;
Stand up.
Cause you’ll live.

Hold off your pain,
Don’t hide your scars in shame.
Quit crawling
You’ll live.

I recommend all of the above,
If you want to really live.

But,
Smile or weep, happy or sad,
Be forewarned.
There will always be that unwelcome nightmare,
Hovering shadows,
Tormented, you’ll be.
Until you shirk it off, yet again.

It’s that sinking feeling.
That feeling of bewilderment,
Like something is out of place.
Like someone somewhere is hurting and you can’t help it,
Cause by then, you know it’s you.
Heavy laden is the heart,
Down you’ll be, disheartened for sure.
Something isn’t right.

Oh that sinking feeling!

Whats it like to fall in love?

2010-07-08T16:51:00.000+05:30

I was trying to articulate the feeling...until i came across this awesome answer ...

Whats it like to fall in love?

Let's say... the object of your affection walks by,
First, your heart falls into your stomach and splashes your innards...
All the moisture makes you sweat profusely.
The condensation shorts the circuits to your brain and you get all woozy.
When your brain burns out altogether, your mouth disengages and you babble like a cretin until he/she leaves...
Medically speaking, that's love!

I vouch one thing - He makes me woozy! :-)

Hung up on you...

2010-06-18T16:04:00.000+05:30

Not a day or night goes by when i don't think of you mom...
I am trying to immortalize you in someway...
these are snippets of the last few months we were together..
Where-ever you are, i just want you to know that 'I am doing fine'.

But, i can never get over you.

I DIG NOT

2010-05-12T12:28:00.000+05:30

Unwashed dishes, strewn about clothes
I don’t dig a pig sty, and why should I?

You angry?- Take a deep breath and calmly tell me why.
Harsh, earsplitting words, I don’t dig.
A thumping racing heart, hell no, I dig not.

Want help? – It doesn’t hurt to say please.
You sorry? – Say it like you mean it.
You were helped?- Don’t just sit there and smile. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.
You had to burp, didn’t you? Seriously, it’s okay. One question though.
Couldn’t you have asked to be excused?
I don’t dig discourtesy, you see.

It’s so un-cool to hear honking cars, impatient drivers
But, it’s even-more un-cool to be kept waiting.

Communication is important.
But sending forwarded messages isn’t that!
You couldn’t steep any lower or could you?

Oh wait a minute! You did call, you did…
Only to elaborate how busy you’ll be
Tomorrow it’s tight, the day after its damn right watertight…
There are other ways of hanging a person without respite, if you want to!
But this way? I dig not.

Sigh…
I dig none of the above and none of what’s below.

Honesty is condemned.
Trend today is a white lie.
Fidelity is on trial.
Discordance is made an alibi.

I could go on but then I’ll risk sounding like a scary lullaby.

For my sister, with love

2010-05-06T12:40:00.001+05:30

Not so very long ago, a group of teenyboppers, all girls, sat squeezed up in a 6 ft by 8ft room, bored to death, wondering how to enliven things up.

In you walk… oops, did I say you walked in?...No! Of course not! It couldn’t be! You didn’t glide in….Rather, you’d crashed in through the door tumbling all over the place, excitedly screaming ‘Oh my god! Oh my god!’... looking at all our stunned faces, while you were jumping up and down.

All psyched up by then, 2 of us held you down, and badgered you to tell us what was throwing you into bouts of excited screams.

The reason for your excited screams is not what I want to highlight here

Point is by then, ‘You’ have managed to wake us all up from our bored stupor.
You’ve always done that for as long as I remember you.
Engrossed in a book, you would laugh aloud at something funny the character in story does. While you read a book, we end up reading your facial expressions. It changes with each turn of a page. You enchant us, my dear.

Oh, I am sure I have never told you this but my love for books, my interest in reading was inspired by you. Remember those days, when I was busy running errands and completing chores while you were cozily wrapped up in your blanket gorging on a novel? That’s when I decided to ‘beat you at it’ – I planned to read one book after another, racing you to it. Little did I know it would become a good habit. Point is ‘it is all because of you’.

I grew up to from a clumsy teenager to an independent, assertive and somewhat no-nonsense yet, fun-loving individual because of all those times you’ve allowed me free reign, never stopping me, even though you are my older sibling. You’ve never stopped me. You watched me grow. Allowed me to trip and fall cause then you would come running with a band-aid.

Wow, I never gave it a thought before, but hell yeah, I have the coolest elder-sister EVER!!! How many of my friends can say that? Not many, am sure.

I admire you for a lot of things; you’ve been my ‘quiet hero’ many times. I didn’t hug you then cause I respected your ‘anti- hug campaigns’ :P (i can never understand this though!Are you allergic to hugs?) LOL

Life has not been a cake-walk for you. You’ve come across one mountain, climbed over it, while another one heads your path.

For a moment when I thought of you I wanted to bow down in prayer, bargain with the Creator, asking him to take away all loads (heavy or light)off you.
But then I thought of the story of how gold is made (read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho), how the clay gets molded into beautiful pottery (read The Bible). I stopped dead on my thinking tracks.

Yes, this is it. This is it! (Eureka moment)

The reason why you are encountering one mountain after another is simply cause you are headed out to become the complete You- magnificent and benevolent, kind and gentle, wise and compassionate, beautiful, invaluable YOU.

Patience my dear, have patience.

In no time, it would all be fine- ‘just as it should be’.

Here is something for you:

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most,
Just gotta keep going

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith,

If you feel like you are doing it alone, you are not.
Stretch out your hand, mine will be holding yours.

From Easters Past

2010-04-04T17:30:00.001+05:30

The morning air was crispy when I woke up to the sound of church bells.
Dressed in pink frocks my sister and I would wait for our cousins to join us.
Once they arrive, off we’d go for the sunrise Easter service held at the church we frequented every Sunday.

There was lightness in our steps and excitement in our expressions.
We looked like little dumplings (between 3 to 5 years old) tottering along, without a care in the world…excited because it’s Easter.
Easter meant good cheer, lots of singing, clapping and bonding in church; best of food and sweets at home; neighbors visiting each other, a general merriment all around.
It was like a mini-Christmas without the caroling, new clothes, gifts, Christmas-tree or Saint Nicholas (santa-claus) riding on a sleigh.

Unadulterated joy, uncorrupted smiles, you laugh when happy, cry when you are sad- oh if not for the innocence of childhood, we all would have been a humanity bereft of real, absolute, irrefutable sense of goodness and bliss.

Little did I know then the true meaning of Easter.

It was a family prayer meeting. She looked radiant and serene in her cotton house coat. With a bible in her hand, prayer in her lips, mom spoke about the real meaning of Easter.

I was sixteen. Rebellious and disobedient, defiant and sulking, presumptuous, snobbish, vainglorious and all puffed out in my attitude (adolescence at it’s best); I was everything but sweet.

But that day, when mom spoke, I listened. Dumbstruck I was. The revered Jesus Christ was crucified. He was found guilty for no wrong. My sense of justice was stirred. How could anyone kill a good man? Peeved I was. Anger turned to humility when I learned that his crucifixion was a sacrifice, for the atonement of humanity’s sins.
His triumph over death was victory over injustice. At sixteen, this story had poetic justice. I was contented.

Through the years, Christ’s death on the cross came to hold new meaning for me. Each time I read a verse from the gospels, it’s like pealing off a petal (one at a time) from a rose bud. With each petal, I learn a truth. Each revelation mesmerizes me.

I am no theologian neither am I a saint.

I see those foot-prints in the sand. Sometimes there are two pairs of footprints- Christ and mine. Sometimes there is just a pair- His. It’s because at those times, Christ is carrying me, since my bones are weak and I cannot walk straight.
Yeah, I am just a simple (at times, foolish) girl, clumsily-stumbling my way through life.

But, Christ death and resurrection holds more meaning for me now than it did when I was that girl-child in a pink frock.

Waking up this morning in Bangalore city, more than two decades since I was five, memories of Easters gone by swamped my thoughts. In each of these memories, I remember her. She seemed to be the central figure- the one with the smile and the hug, who made us wolf-down a breakfast of bread, cornflakes and milk before each Easter sunrise-service; the one who cooked a sumptuous lunch & dinner after-wards.

I wept.
For I miss her dearly. Last Easter, I was with her in Chennai at one of the lodges. She was recuperating from one of her chemotherapy sessions. We had prayed together. I did not know it would be our last Easter together.

I wept cause Easter was her favorite celebration.
I wept cause I am remorseful of not-following most of what she’s taught me.

And, believe it or not, I weep cause I am a wee bit excited.
Excited & slightly afraid about new-beginnings.

That Easter morning when Christ resurrected, it marked the beginning of a new-era.
If I humble myself, it could be the genesis of a new lifting attitude within me, a new-creation.

When mom was around, by this time, our garden would be blossoming with the all-season red and yellow roses, the red azaleas & pink camellias, the purple sweet pea and her favorite, bougainvillea.

Her blossoming garden was the mark of the advent of spring.

If I humble myself, my heart could herald the beginning of spring.

Ah, in the word’s of Robin Williams ‘Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"

One Sweet Day

2010-02-21T15:38:00.000+05:30

(This is dedicated to my Ma- The only mother I’ll ever have; Mei-ieid- my grandma; Shariba- the friend I’ll always cherish even though we were together for only a short while. I miss you Ma, Mei-ieid and Shai)

Sorry, I never told you, all I wanted to say.
Now it's too late to hold you.
Cause you've flown away, so far away.
Never, Had I imagined, yeah, living without your smile.
Feeling and knowing you hear me.
It keeps me alive. Alive!

I never showed you.
Assumed you'd always be there.
I took your presence for granted.
But I always cared
And I miss the love we shared.

And I know you're shining down on me from Heaven.
Like so many friends we've lost along the way.
And I know eventually we'll be together.
One sweet day.

Although, the sun will never shine the same, I'll
always look to a brighter day.

Yeah, Lord, I know, when I lay me down to sleep,
You'll always listen, as I pray!

(~ this is a song ‘One sweet day’ sung by Mariah Carey & Boyz II Men)

My Story – brick by brick

2010-01-16T12:52:00.000+05:30

An array of books stacked on the shelf, dog-eared pages, dust covered and worn out.
An unopened dusty Bible at the bedside table, a suitcase of unpacked party clothes, and a dysfunctional clock hanging over the mantle, its battery never restored.

A quick scan across the room and this is what you see.

You are caught up by the sudden rush of long buried emotions. Hit by that crumbling feeling, you feel dilapidated and worn out.
This is how I have felt for a long time.

The room is but a reflection of a dripping away spirit and a vacant mind. There was no chaos. None whatsoever. You need to be alive and combative to be receptive of affection, anger, desire, remorse, joy, pain, passion, love, pride, shame, or warmth. I felt none. The senses were dead.

I am not the same now. I have somehow pulled through and here I am, writing.
At first I chose not to write about it. My argument was why dig up a closed grave, why speak about the times gone by, why speak about me and risk sounding narcissistic.

Ashish, my friend and cynic said why not. Why not acknowledge what is, resolve if need be, get it over and done with.

Invigorated, here I am with my story.

“So no one told you life was gonna be this way
Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear
When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even
your year,…”

So the Rembrandts had sung…

And yeah!
No one told me that love would one day fly off the window and you find yourself trying to figure out what was it all about.
No one told me that the angel of death would come flying in through the window (was the window opened?), clasping its claws into the three people I’ve loved (and always will), denying them of a dignified departure. Cruel death!
No one told me that my self-claimed ‘fool-proof’ faith would be shaken to its very core.
No one told me that I would face death head-on, cheated it but marred for life, leaving me with haunting images, questioning if victory over death was worth every ounce of a penny.

My friends called me ‘the phoenix’. To them, amidst all this personal afflictions and anguish, I have still come out trumps! To quote one of them, ‘you rise up like the phoenix and you inspire’

(Origin and meaning of Phoenix - • Mythology. A bird in Egyptian mythology that lived in the desert for 500 years and then consumed itself by fire, later to rise renewed from its ashes.
• A person or thing of unsurpassed excellence or beauty; a paragon)

Touched, flattered I am. But let not my smile mislead you.
I am human. It hurt like hell. It still does.

My senses went numb not from the lack of emotions but from the ‘overwhelming emotions’ of confusion, anger, pain, and loss. Hell! And to top it all, I felt guilty if I weren’t grateful. For I am still alive, am I not? I can walk again, isn’t it? So why shouldn’t I be grateful!
Fate was mocking at me! Sardonic, contemptuous fate.

To say I felt ragged would not do justice to the lunacy of my emotions.

I was not a lone casualty. Helplessness engulfed not just me but my loved ones too. I was desperate to reach out and comfort them but how does an emotionally crippled me intend to do that?
And to think that my love ones wept cause of what happened to me that was torturous and even more crippling.

These tears stung my eyes then and burn my thoughts now.

So yeah, life has moved on.
I am back on my feet, back at my job doing what am best at, meeting deadlines, holding up commitments, traveling, singing, writing, gorging on books, continuing to love… its become even more important for me to do all these things, it’s like am racing against some force ….its like each day am cementing a brick on what I hope would be a wall or some kind of structure…I am less enlightened than what I was yesterday…but am doing it brick by brick.

At a flip of a coin or maybe at a turn of the wheel, I hope I don’t have to go through fire again, dragging my love ones with me, in order to rise up like a phoenix.

I am spent.

Noah's Ark

2009-11-25T15:47:00.001+05:30

Someone sent me this:

Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Noah 's Ark . One : Don't miss the boat. Two : Remember that we are all in the same boat. Three : Plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the Ark. Four : Stay fit. When you're 60 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big. Five : Don't listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done. Six : Build your future on high ground. Seven : For safety sake, travel in pairs. Eight : Speed isn't always an advantage. The snails were on board with the cheetahs. Nine : When you're stressed, float a while. Ten : Remember, the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic by professionals. Eleven : No matter the storm, when you are with God, there's always a rainbow waiting

C2GKEWFC9UYN

Love ‘s Hues

2009-10-25T10:09:00.000+05:30

Compiled from different love songs.Inspired by the fact that I’ll always be a silly old romantic, no matter what.

P.S- Can you identify the songs from which the lyrics are taken?

(First throes of love)
A moment like this
Some people wait a lifetime
For a moment like this
Some people search forever
For that one special kiss
Oh I can't believe it's happening to me
Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
(The courting)
Say you love me every weakening moment
Turn my head with talk to summertime
Say you need me with you now and always
Promise me that all you say is true
That's all I ask of you
Let me be your shelter
Let me be your light
You're safe
No one will find you
Your fears are far behind you

Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough
Ain't no river wild enough

To keep me from you

(Love dethrone)
Well you couldn't be that one I adored
You don't seem to know
Or seem to care
What your heart is for
I don't know you anymore
There's nothin' where you used to lie
My conversation has run dry
That's what's going on
Nothings right
I'm torn
I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
You're a little late
I'm already torn
( Bitterness reigns)
Oh it's a dirty old shame that all you get from love is a love song
It's gotcha layin up nights waiting for the music to start.
It's such a dirty old shame when you got to take the blame for a
love song.
Because the best love song is writing with a broken heart.
(The lull after the storm~ forgiveness)
So take a look at me now,
well there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me,
just the memory of your face
Now take a look at me now,
( Hope Resurrected)
Some say love it is a river
that drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razer
that leaves your soul to blead

Some say love it is a hunger
an endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
and you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of wakingthat never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken
who cannot seem to give
and the soul afraid of dyingthat never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winterfar beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed
that with the sun's love
in the spring
becomes the rose
(New lasting love)
Love is the only thing that have made me cry
Nothing’s ever made me feel more alive
And that’s why once again here I am looking for New Love

I believe that its gonna be better than ever before
That’s why am looking for a new love for this old heart of mine
A new love and I can’t just wait to start
I wanna feel that way again

She pulled me through...

2009-10-15T21:37:00.000+05:30

(Written on 13th Oct '09)
In split seconds, the world turned upside down, figuratively and literally.
The car jumped, my head hit the ceiling, our bodies strapped to seat-belts swayed to and fro, skidded, hit against the divider at the flyover, with a force so colossal that it toppled upside down.

There was sound of scattering broken glasses followed by death silence. Then I heard my own voice writhing in pain shouting ‘why again?’ (I was in a similar accident just 4 years back).

I saw her injured hand lifeless, I heard his voice painfully beseeching for divine help and I felt a brain numbing pain below my waist. Crushed, broken, and mangled, my bones were. My heart turned cold at the thought of never being able to walk again.

What about mom? What would this do to her? She doesn’t deserve this! No, she doesn’t.
It isn’t fair to her. These were my first thoughts.

I wasn’t in denial.
I knew we had lost a friend. She was as beautiful as much as she was virtuous.
I knew he would be devastated. The desolation he would feel is unimaginative and no man or woman should have to ever undergo the same. I cry with him (We all do).

I could be more elaborate about this incident that shattered the lives of 3 people and their families. But, strong as I may seem, I am not ready yet.
It’s been 2 months 13 days since that fateful day.
I hope that one day I can write about it without this piercing pain in my heart.

I could talk about the angels sent by Him to rescue us and the many good Samaritans along the way, who played a big role in my treatment, survival and healing.
I could talk about my invaluable friends and colleagues who were there 24/7.
I could take about Ariba as an organization and how it stepped up for its member at the hour of need.
I could talk about the shoddy unreliable health/medical care system India owns.
I could talk about my surgery, my doubts, aches, and my ongoing recovery and rehabilitation.
But I won’t. Not now.
One day I will.

What I chose to talk about is my mother. Lying in her bed at home, fighting against the cancer that was weakening her, thousand miles away from where I was, she helped me pull through!

Yes, my mom had always been the cane whip that cracked on my palms when I’d been a truant. But she has also been the hug that assured me all is well and the world is just as it should be.

There is one gift that mom gave since childhood that has sustained me through the years – The gift of faith and prayer.

Through every bruise big or small, she would say ‘Be at peace. Your porter is molding you’. I screwed up at an important entrance exam. Alone in an alien city, disappointed, I’d called her up. She’d calmed me down by saying ‘You did your best. Now leave the rest to God. Your results will be according to His will’. That’s my mom, for you!

Oh I’ve been away from home for 10 years now. Being a free spirit, regular phone calls home became irregular, long calls turned into short ‘how do you do’. But my mom’s letters filled with love and scripture, kept on coming.

While I was carried into the ambulance, we could speak only for less than a minute on phone. Anxious and in tears, she wasn’t angry, neither was she hysterical. She said ‘Yet, my daughter, I don’t know why it happened but be strong. I know it pains but you will be alright. You are not alone’. I was crying then, more so because of her endearing loving words, than from the pain.

After a miraculous surgery, with rods embedded in my thighs, I was being cared for at a hospital bed. That’s when all kinds of questions bombarded my mind. Grieve, disappointment, anger, hurt were mixed with feelings of relief and gratitude for a second life. There was complete chaos in my mind. I was looking for answers (I still am).
And my biggest question was ‘Why’.

Mom steps in to the rescue, again!
She read to me a scripture verse that said ‘Truly, I tell all of you with certainty, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces a lot of grain.’ (John 12:24)

No it did not make sense to me immediately. But I did ponder on this verse.
It dawned upon me that I am the grain of wheat. For a grain of wheat to be fruitful, it needs to be buried into the soil. With sunshine, rain and minerals from the soil, it would spring out to produce more wheat, ensuring a good harvest. In a similar way, my life has been churned, my body remolded and I need to rise up, let go of the self and be a living illustration of ‘grace upon grace’.

Grace upon grace?
My mom defines this as ‘God’s purposes are always God’s enablings’. Which means, when God steers you to strange and uncertain situations, He will keep you very much in the dark about his purposes, but He will not leave you without His grace’.

I understood what this statement meant. I am yet to understand the magnitude of what it entails.

But, with hope springing forth in my heart, I can safely say….

The ‘why’ is now replaced with ‘what if He is making me what I am meant to be?’

Mom, you are right now lying at the hospital bed, weak and fragile, slipping between worlds. They say it’s too late now. Survival is unlikely.Our heart aches for you. We want you to be free of the pain, back to your healthy, cheerful and the so full-of-life woman that you are. We have seen how you’d loved, how you’ve been the anchor for so many people, far and near. We have seen through you, how one’s faith can move mountains.

So with immense confidence and unshakable faith, we know you can fight back!

You can do it, my anchor woman.
I love you.
We all love you.

In desperation

2009-07-14T23:09:00.000+05:30

Wrote this on 14th July at around 10:45 pm

hate the fact that i dont wake up lookin fwd to the day, i hate the grumpy and lifeless faces around me, i hate to get sad phonecalls eventhough i may love the caller, i hate the fact that i cant go to sleep early coz of work, i hate that when i finally sleep am not at peace coz i'm not done with what was suppose to be done yesterday, am sleepy but i;ve got miles to go before i can sleep, but i cant walk the miles coz am so mentally drain

Ode to Mei-ieid

2009-05-19T13:17:00.000+05:30

Mei-ieid –That’s what I called her. We all addressed her by that name.
It means Mother-of-love.
(In Khasi, Mei means Mother, Ieid means Love).

That’s my grandma for you 

Her essence, her beauty, her charm, her affections, her advices, her reprimands imprinted itself in my mind, carved its way into a big corner of my heart, since the time I was just a gibberish mumbling toddler.

She’d created the fountain of love, built on bricks of goodness, moral values, virtue, hope, peace, forgiveness. She’d lived the maxim ‘When the going gets tough, the tough gets going’.

No wonder her 6 children turned out to be the fine men and women, which they are. Each one has become individuals to reckon with whether in their own families or the society.
Doctors, engineers, lecturers, officers, they’ve become, solely because of how she’d brought them up.

Born to parents that were not too well-off, she learned to climb the ropes of survival at a tender young age. She realized that money doesn’t come easy. One needs to earn it. And that was what made her a responsible, respected, loved, care-giving nurse at one of the first hospitals in Khasi Hills, Shillong.

My memories go as far back as a sight of her in her crispy white uniform, always punctual at work, no compromise on duty, whether day or night. She was a dedicated professional.
Then again I remember her, on a cold winter night, sitting by the coal fire, cooking, after which she then fed me. It could be just plain white rice with a little salt. But when she feeds me, literally, from her hand, I would gobble it up like it was the most appetizing food I had ever tasted. Isn’t there some saying that it’s not what you cook but how much love you put into your cooking, that makes the difference? Well, my Mei-ieid for sure did that.

Mei-ieid departed at a ripe old age of 85 on 2nd May, 2009. She was bed ridden for almost 9 years because of her arthritis.Being taken care of by others, especially by my darling aunt Mei-duh, she never complaint of her discomfort. Rather, she would often smile. Whenever I am back for vacations from college, she always had a smile for me. Initially, she would talk to me about my life in college. But as the years went by, when talking became tiring, she would still be ready with a smile. Just one word, ‘Yet’, in her soft loving voice, followed by her smile and her kiss, was enough (She called me Yet). I am blessed.

Yeah, I could go on about you, Mei-ieid. I could even write your biography.
But you know what your greatest testimony is? It’s the kids you have raised and your grand-children, their scions. They are your legacy and your testimony.
We may not be your perfect example. In-fact, we may be clue-less as to how to fight the good fight. But one thing we all have in common, that binds us together. That is, the values you have instilled and the love of Christ.

They will live on.

Even in your death, you still managed to inspire me.
It’s been 6 months since I wrote anything. Life had been such, Mei-ieid, that my mind, my feelings were blocked. Maybe you whispered into my heart, as your parting gift, and that is why the dams of my heart finally broke open, my mind cleared up, and am writing again.

I am what I am today, because I was nurtured by you.

Thank You. Till we meet again.

Adieu 2008

2008-12-07T00:52:00.000+05:30

It was one of those seemingly endless team meetings. You inevitably get lost in the humdrum of verbal exchanges that sounds like an old record.

My eyes turned to my laptop and I saw a message blinking on my skype. It was a message from my colleague.

The message read ‘Y U FROWNING.U have an angry expression on your face from 2 days’.
I was taken aback, though it somehow made me smile. How very observant of my team-mate to notice something so minor.
But yeah, I would have to give him credit for seeming to care, while I give myself a kick for being so obvious!
We all wear masks, daily. Especially while dealing with the outside world.
What happened to mine? When did I lose it? Rather, how did I lose it?

We will soon bid farewell to the year 2008.
It would soon be just another year that went by, leaving behind experiences that would relive in our thoughts from time to time. While some of these incidences would be a touching memory, some bitter sweet ones; there are some which would always be more than just a memory.They would be those that had carved a corner in our psyche, an indelible mark, a scar, that in someway changed us, for better or worse. They could either break us, or make us. It’s our choice.

It started off with an unexpected trip to the US for 3 months. Though it was unexpected, it was a nice opportunity, to live a different life, see an unfamiliar world, while crossing milestones in your career.
I saw, I met and I had my mouthful of sky.

Back home. Back to the slime and grime of day to day life, hunting for new accommodation ; uprooting, myriad of adjustments; juggling of finances; US seemed like a dream I had last night.

The dust has not yet settled…when my joyous homecoming was cut short by the news that mom was diagnosed with lymphoma cancer.
At that instant, the world ceased to exist.
My heart went cold. Imagine the sight of a knife drilling into the core of a fruit, while scooping the pulp out of it. That’s how my heart felt.
That’s how my family felt.

Shaken but unwavering in faith, we vowed to fight this disease. Numerous trips to Apollo Chennai, several tests undergone, monthly sessions of chemotherapy followed by a painful recovery; moments of anger, resentment, doubts and helplessness; moments of prayers, hope, gratitude; soul searching times, they were.

The months dragged by … mom in a sick bed, always ready with a smile while you stood by, feeling helpless. How could an angel deserve this?
Well that’s what she turned out to be. Her fragile body was driven by a resilient, unyielding spirit. Her faith was a living testimony. Step by step, she fought the disease and months later, when the doctor pronounced her cured, I was on my knees, eyes upwards in gratitude.

Her life is a miracle. My questions were answered. She had to undergo all this, so that I would know how to love, what it is to live and love, persevere and never give up. I now understand and appreciate her. I no longer question her decisions or understanding. I may not agree but I understand.

So onward we march on life’s highway.

Along came a bent in the road, and I tasted lost love. There was numbness in the madness of my silence. If you pinched me, it wouldn’t have hurt; stabbed me, I wouldn’t have bled. Certain relations have to take a different course; you do not give up on them, they just have to be lived and cherished, unlike before.

A journey isn’t one unless you walk through another bent.

We all grew up under someone’s love, care, guidance. The principles they uphold, become the reason for their place of love, trust and respect in our lives. In an ideal world, this equation stays. It does not change.

But alas, I live to learn that it is not always the case. The pandora’s box opened, and I learned of things that makes me shudder. The one you trust with your life, may just be the one who could break that faith. My trust was broken.

Wounded, we moved on…continuing to play our role.

A bad day today opening up a window for a better day tomorrow.
Old friends, new friends, fair-weather friends, all season friends- you meet them, sup with them, and part to meet again.

You learn to love again. Against all odds, against the naysayer, you hope that this one will withstand the test of time.

One day, you will hopefully learn to trust again.

I had felt joy beyond comprehension, tasted sorrow, met success, turned my back on failure, dared to love, lost it only to love again… hail to the undying human spirit!

Maybe one day i would throw the mask away, for good.

Adieu to a year that seemed like a lifetime lived!

Is there a world outside every darkened door?
Where blues won’t haunt you anymore,
Where the brave are free and lovers soar,
I want to ride into that distant shore…

Farewell 2008!

For the men we love

2008-11-04T17:27:00.000+05:30

Even for an anti-social like me, I do take time out to meet my girlfriends’ at least (Let’s forget for a second that this is a rare phenomenon… happening once in 3 or 4 months). :P

Our meetings usually begin with a luncheon at noon, followed by coffee at one of the numerous café coffee days (lovingly called CCD) sprawling all over Bangalore. It is often followed by dinner of course. Our animated conversations are usually colored with a lot of commiserations over the idiosyncrasies’ of the men we chose to love.

My good friend found the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with (Bless her!). She convinced her family, and somehow warmed her way into the hearts of her fiancé ‘s family too. Since her fiancé works in a different city, she would often take those weekend flights to be with him, most times extending her stay, risking her otherwise successful career… its all for love, you see.

When he is drunk, he talks. He says, ‘ I love Shiela, I love Priyanka, I love Sheetal, and I love you ’. Stung, she asked ‘mere aur unke beech kya farq hai?’
( ‘ so how am I different from them’ ) to which he responded ‘ I can live without them, while I can’t live without you’.

(Is this supposed to be a consolation for my friend?)

And, so he continues in his late night chats with his numerous girl friends, lending his supposedly ‘big heart’ to them. When countered about it, he says ‘I love you, don’t I? I am going to marry you, am i not? So stay the hell out of this. What I do in my privacy is my choice.’

Another friend changed her lifestyle completely for him. On his insistence, she enrolled into a health club, attained the figure ‘he looked for in his woman’, changed her hairstyle, and overturned her wardrobe. She looks good! She does. A transformed woman, she definitely is. Then she looked at me and in a sullen voice, said ‘Yet, I often wonder, would he have loved me if I have not done all this for him... I feel good, yes. I have never felt this good in my life; it’s been worth it... (stammering) but what if… what if we don’t end up together for good…what would become of me?’.

Another long time friend of mine, is married to the love of her life. We met over coffee. This is one couple I really love. When they finally tied the knot, it was one of those moments in life when you smile and thought ‘life is not so bad, after all’ :)

While being happily married to him, she has one grouch. Whatever little time she has with her hubby between their jobs, was shared with ‘them’. Stunned, I asked ‘Who them?’. She answered ‘His parents’. I smiled. Isn’t that the common complaint of a million other wives, at least in our country? Somewhat pacified, she smiled, and we continue discussing other grouches ;-)

So, its not surprising, that when my friend Zee told me about the woman he hopes to marry and what he had asked of her; that with great difficulty I had to stop myself from hitting him!

Zee’s biggest request of his would be fiancé is that she should understand that when it comes to choosing between his mother and her (on any matter), his mother would always comes first. She should understand that.

And when his would be fiancé has second thoughts about this, he wonder why.

Are all men this obtuse? Is this why their women are head over heel in love with them, no matter what?

You wonder why we store messages in our inbox, and chose not to delete them as soon as we finish reading them? It’s simply because we love to re-read those messages, feel the underlying love in those words, and be reminded of it time and again.

We ask too many questions? We ask because you don’t communicate. Simple.

And so you would say, ‘Don’t you know me enough, to understand me? Can’t you decipher on your own?’ We can, and we do. But then again you come up and say ‘Why do you come to such a conclusion? Why in the hell do you assume things? Did I say such a thing?’

With all the peculiarities of men, there is one peculiarity of us women,that will stay.

No matter what, we would still love our men, turn a blind eye to their fault, and pretend to live in bliss.

Heavens have mercy on us! lol

(If not for its cuteness, it's downright pitiful :P)

All for love, we say :)

P.S. Names are not mentioned.But, Thanks for sharing girls!

Just me

2008-09-03T21:56:00.000+05:30

Did I change???
That’s the question I ask myself these days. My best-friend made such a comment (‘Coret, you have changed’). It may have been said in jest, but it definitely made me introspect.

What was that famous adage?? Doesn’t it go something like – ‘There is nothing constant, but change’ or ‘Change is the only constant’?

If I subject myself to this adage ( a universal truth) as a measurement of what I was and what I have become outwardly
( my weight keeps oscillating monthly, gone are my acne prone days, boy cut to long tresses, a confused boy wanna-be to a somewhat tolerable lady…et al ), then yes, I have definitely metamorphose!

However my ethos, my psyche is the same.

As a child and a teen-ager, I was restless. One moment, playing basketball was the ‘it’ thing for me. Next minute, making it to the football team was my only goal. It does not matter whether I have the natural talent or not. I would make it to the field every morning, religiously do the rounds, and judiciously try to learn the tricks. I was no star. I did not excel, was not a favourite but somehow I made it to the team!

Now, as an adult, a job holder, a team member, a team player, I don’t stand out, i rarely give my opinions but I would somehow make sure i am heard.

The same grit, spunk, un-dauntedness… border- lining on stubbornness (at times), keeps me going.

My aunt and her friends, loved to tease me. She would tickle me with a caution ‘If you love me, you will not laugh’. As ticklish and uncomfortable as I felt (most times, I had to refrain myself from hitting her), I would muster up all my strength and will- power, remained stoic and not laugh!
I hated to displease or offend her! (I was only a kid).
This characteristic of not wanting to displease anyone, has made its way into my adult life.
Fortunately, it has landed me in the good books of people(sigh!,which is not always good, i know).
Unfortunately, I have subjected myself to many awkward situations, an inch shy of getting into real trouble.

I loved with a fierceness, blind to a fault. I support with a die-hard attitude. The 1993 French Open Final. The clash between 2nd seeded Jim Courier and 10th seeded Sergei Bruguera.

Sergei Bruguera, I have never heard of him before.But somehow minutes before the final game started, I made a decision to support him. Why I fancied him in a second, I do not know!!! From the time he hit the first serve, I was at the edge of my seat, cheering, praying, crying at every point he lost (my amused family were egging him to lose, just to annoy me. Mom and sis were laughing at me). Every nerve of my being was on alert, and when Sergei sailed through 6-4 2-6 6-2 3-6 6-3, I was on my knees crying with joy. That memory is etched into our memories till today. Mom still love to tease me on that.

And so as an adult, I love the same. Fiercely, passionately, zealously- be it for a person or thing.
Through disappointment, tears, joy, happiness, smiles, pain, this would not change. I would still love this way. It’s the only way I know.

Drilled into our minds since childhood to love your neighbor as yourself, not to respond to evil with evil,instinctively my actions would be geared to doing just that(i try!).Dad had once said,'Be as gentle as a dove and as wise as a serpent'- i am still learning to live by it.Such was my upbringing.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that certain peculiarities would never change.

I would still bump into anything that stood on my way; drop things involuntarily; get peeved if someone is rude; annoyed if the 4 curtsies – please, thank you, sorry, excuse-me are overlooked; for peace-sake keep my mouth shut, grin and bear with it; irked by unanswered calls/texts/ emails (am guilty of the same though); fret over trivial things and … many other vices.

My grandpa would trim the branches of the camellia tree every summer, so that next season, the camellia flower would bloom into a more luscious, healthy, vibrant pink. The branches of the tree re-grows but the roots remain the same.

My ethos would remain the same.

Don't hmm me!!!

2008-09-03T21:53:00.000+05:30

The ‘hmm’ expression

I hate to be hmm at. It’s a downright rude expression!

And to my dismay, I found that it does exist in the dictionary.

Defined as an Interjection, it is an expression ‘to express thoughtful absorption, hesitation, doubt, or perplexity’. I am not surprised. But I would like to add to the definition.

I have been ‘hmm’ too many a times.

And the feeling I get is a perplexing one.

I ask a friend ‘You hung up on me all of a sudden. Did I say something wrong?’
An answer to this question could be yes or no.
However, incase my friend does not want to appear impolite, he could come out with a tactful answer, maybe something like ‘ Oh no, I pressed the wrong button. My bad. ’ (yeah right! ) or a more believable one like ‘ I don’t know how but the network just went off’ (in 6 cases out of 10, this could be a genuine answer).

But my friend said ‘ hmm, not at all’.

Wow, if it weren’t so pathetic, this could have made me laugh it off.
‘hmm, not at all’- he wants to appear tactful, courteously shrugging off the fact that what I said might have pissed him off, but he failed miserably… because to me the ‘hmm’ is a dead giveaway of your true sentiments.

Cup and Saucer

2008-07-30T21:18:00.000+05:30

Elayne Boosler said, “When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It’s a whole different way of thinking”.

Did Elayne knew while stating this, that she might have discovered a goldmine of wisdom- the root cause of so much hurt, resentment, tears, between men and women?

If she did and if she ‘understood’ the gravity of what she was saying, applied it in her life; her relationship with a man would be an almost perfect- give and take; more listening and less of nagging; empathy, not fault-finding; a warm embrace instead of a simple nod; a verbal endearment in place of silent appreciation; in a nutshell, a man and a woman would be able to find that ‘elusive’ communication bridge that could dissuade such differences if not put them away for good.

In today’s age where one can get information on anything under the sun at just the click of a mouse; no wonder one would find a potpourri of books on the man and his counterpart, the woman.

Let’s name a few… at the top of my head…I can recall

1. Men are from Mars, women from Venus
2. Why men don’t listen and woman can’t read maps
3. Why men don’t remember and women never forget
4. Brian sex: the real difference between men and women
5. Why men lie and women cry
6. Why men don’t have a clue and women always need more shoes( I love this one! )

Ahem, need I name more??? I guess you get the flow by now.

The point is can any of these books, no matter how well researched upon, written and read, really make a mark difference in the interactions between the two sexes???

It will always be true that the brain is made primarily of two different types of tissue, called gray matter and white matter. Research reveals that men think more with their gray matter, and women think more with white. Men would do better in mathematics whereas women better them at social sciences and languages.

Let’s state an example :

( This example is frequently mentioned in most articles. I have just tweaked it a bit)

A disclaimer: This story is fictional. All characters in this story are fictional. They have no resemblance to any person living or death. If you wish to differ on this, you can take it up with me, one to one :P

Sam and Carol have been together for some months now.
Today is a good evening. Both were having a good time together. They saw a movie, laughed through popcorn spills, and went for a drive.

At the traffic stop, Carol looked over at Sam, her heart warms up at the mere sight of him and wondered where they were heading. 4 months was a long time of being together.

Carol, her heart racing, her stomach churning, casually yet suggestively told Sam, ‘ Hey, we have been together for 4 months now Sam’…

Sam, a surprised look on his face responded ‘ wow! 4 months eh???’ and smiled.

And then he suddenly remembered that his car’s servicing date was 4 months overdue. Damn! he missed it again.

Frowning, angry at his carelessness Sam drove hurriedly through the traffic to drop Carol home.

Meanwhile, Carol was in smithereens!
She thought, ‘Oh what have I done! I have angered Sam… he must be thinking am pushing him towards a commitment he is not ready for’…

Before she stepped out of her car, she turned to Sam and said ‘Sorry Sam. It was a harmless statement. I did not mean to put you off. Thanks for the lovely evening’.

Perplexed Sam, embroiled in his car servicing issue and the football match he might missed if he does not hit the wheels soon, muttered, ‘It’s ok. Thanks. See ya Carol’.

And off he goes!

Now you don’t have to be a genius to predict what happens next :D

Carol would be weeping her eyes dry, call up her girl-friends, discuss Sam, dissect his every word, their every conversation for hours, come out with two to three conclusions…and remain miserable for the whole week!

On the other-hand, Sam was glad to make it on time for the match!
And a thought of Carol and her strange apology just made him smile-‘Women!’, he exclaimed.

Funny eh?

Yeah, it would be funny if it only was not so exasperating, if only you are not a Sam or a Carol.

However, why try to disrupt the yin and the yang?

Women will always worry about the things men forget.
Men always worry about the things women remember.

Let the books serve as guidelines for better relationships.
Don’t expect them to somehow transpose men’s thinking pattern into women’s and vice versa.

As for me, I always prefer taking my coffee in a cup that comes with a saucer :-)

Just for you Girl- From my heart to yours

2008-03-09T22:12:00.000+05:30

You asked me ‘how life is’, am so tempted to say ‘it’s a farce’.
Sacrilegious!
How could you utter such words?
It’s not the done thing.
It’s the least expected from you girl.
What happened to you?
How could you hurt your mama and your papa, with such a careless attitude?
Weren’t you taught to be joyful in every situation?

Yes I was.
And yes I was taught about all the goodness there is in the world.
Be good cause good always has a way of coming back.
Sweet.

We are taught how to be everyone else, except ourselves.

‘Smile though your heart is breaking,
Smile even though it hurts.
When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by-
If you smile, through your pain and sorrow.
Smile, and maybe tomorrow, you will see the sun come through..’

Oh yeah, smile, swallow it all down, don’t lash out.

Don’t lash out?
Yeah right! If you don’t vent out, you are doing good to everyone else except you.

So hey girl, you wanna swear, you wanna cry your eyes dry, you wanna scream your lungs out, you wanna take that trip just for yourself, you wanna throw all cares to the wind for at-least a day?
Do yourself a favor.
Do it.

You are better off being yourself, woman.

Listen to what your heart says for a change :-)

Happy Woman’s Day!

P.S. This is dedicated to all my woman friends.Let's be true to ourselves.

It's ok to be YOU.

I look up and i see..

2008-02-03T03:25:00.000+05:30

It’s been a month since I stepped on Big brother’s backyard. Caught in the whirlwind of activities, today I could relax my mind and finally pen down what’s been churning, stirring, boiling, and now ready to spill over. Wow, I have managed to make myself sound no less than a busybody ;-)

The US of A, it’s all what I imagined it to be and all what I never thought it could be.

Have you ever walked into Landmark store at forum, Bangalore, looking for a specific book? All you got to do is walk over to the right section and voila, you find your book right there (if you don’t, then they don’t have it). That’s in a nutshell US of A for you. Just like everything is aligned in neatly arranged racks, everything here follows an unwritten law of ‘spick and span’.

It’s a different world indeed from the charming haphazardness of our Indian cities. While in India, the drivers define the road-laws, here the pedestrian rules. Cars would stop for you to cross the road. This back home, is the privilege of the netas only. Lol

Watching TV here would put away all your doubts on why a Television is called an ‘Idiot Box’. The shows are interactive and fun, no doubt, but you can’t help but smile at the idiosyncrasy of the culture here. It’s all about gorging not just the best of rich foods, but also gorging on every luxury possible. This is followed by the ‘fire extinguishers’ like diet plans, diet pills, and insurances against an accident to a heart disease to a broken knee to whatever possible under the sun.

Just sit for half an hour before your television set and you’ll see what I am talking about. The 5 minutes advertisements on intervals, are of the following chronological order:
1. Ads on the best steaks, best burgers, best pizzas available
2. Ads on the best diet plans, best customized diet recipes, best diet pills-available over the counter
3. Ads of the A to Z insurances available; just sign the paper, pay and you are insured.

Yes amidst the orderliness, you can see the chaos in a people gone wrong with the basics. A paradox, an oddity.

There is one thing that is endearing about this nation.
They have a heart to reach out to the less privilege, and they are not shy about it. There are specific channels that dedicate themselves to social uplift-ment of the less privilege in wealth, in health, in basic amenities, in opportunities. Every public place you go to, every organization, every public transport brace the presence of wheelchair driven, specially challenged, and old-aged citizens; therewith providing the necessary facilities. There is an implicit message that amidst the perpetual inequality in class, race, wealth, choices, there is always HOPE. Yeah, to this I say, God bless America.

My sojourn here has not ended….

The emotions I expressed in this article are my first impressions of this land. I am eager to explore more, to see more, to discover what is behind the facade (if any), to know and to relish.

One thing I know for sure, that the chord which binds humans across ‘man-made’ differences exists.

I look up and I see we are…

Underneath the same sun… we are all just nameless dots.

Deliverance ??

2007-10-19T23:28:00.000+05:30

I was on my knees, hands folded, staring at the blank wall.
In the distance I could hear Shania crooning ‘find your self esteem and be forever free to dream’.

Far-reaching were her words, but somehow I was no closer to an answer.
Tomorrow I would change, and today would not mean a thing.

I looked at me and I see a child and a mother.
At times I’m a sinner, now and then a saint.
I can be your dream, but I chose to be unworthy.
I have faith in the triumph of goodness, over evil;
But I succumbed without a fight to iniquity.

And, they still look at me like am an angel underneath.

Am I to be ashamed?

Can we just fast forward a few years later,
Can I just wash my hands clean and walk away;
Can I just wrap this part of me as history and sweep it under a rug,
Will my memory be so selective, as to never bring up this side of me ever again?

I know what I really want.
I want some patience, I need deliverance.
I want to make sense of the conflicts, the craziness in silence.
If there could only be a kindred soul who would catch this drift;
Cause I am so strung out and sapped.

I woke up this morning, with a new song.
My heart felt lighter, for reasons I fail to understand.
There was buoyancy in my gait, and a fresh whiff in the air.
Perplexed, I am over this turn of emotions;
I’m still trying to embrace this reversal of my sentiments.

Pray what did happened between the time I closed and opened my eyes?
Did the Maker intercede? Did he send his seraphs to whisper in my dreams?
It must be so.
For somehow, I feel so much better.

Not Yet Home....

2007-08-16T02:47:00.001+05:30

It’s midnight. I find myself walking in circles in the terrace.
Under the serene starry night, I can hear the rustling of the leaves of the coconut tree, the distant beckoning sound of a train, the screeching of an R1 bike as it comes to a halt…

Yes, they are sights and sounds of a city life.

As soothing as the night sky and the cool breeze is, my mind refuses to breathe easy. It is wandering arbitrarily, with no sense of purpose, no direction.

The far off running train is seductively enticing me to that place call home. Somewhere in my sub conscience, I can hear the soft tunes of a celebrated song call ‘Home’ … resonating.

‘I'm going home,Back to the place where I belong,And where your love has always been enough for me.I'm not running from.No, I think you got me all wrong.I don't regret this life chose for me.But these places and these faces are getting oldSo I'm going home.Well I'm going home…’

Home!

The tiny word brings up such tenderness in ones heart, its as if one was touched and deeply moved.

But Why?

When we speak of home, we often understood it as a place, an abode where our family resides. It brings up a feeling of being connected or something you identify with.

Its absolutely right.

However, is that it? Are family ties, unconditional love, acceptance all that is to Home?

I would like to think not.
I would rather have a far more definitive, complete, concluding, conclusive, nailed down understanding of Home.

I know I am home, when I have arrived.

Right now, am still a wayfarer who most often than not, hitch hike on rides, rub shoulders with fellow travellers, at times uplifted-at times crestfallen by their stories, touched by the ordinary, awed by the miracles, learning, observing, discovering, inspired, heart-broken, and still far from having arrived.

I have not taken the first step towards Home yet.

I am yet to discover myself.

26 years, educational qualifications, a pretty job, an equally good life does not mean I know anything about myself.
Yes, its pretty scary.
No wonder am circling this terrace!

But hey, I do know one thing though… I am curious to learn. And, that will suffice for now.

I got a long way to go. One day, I’ll stop walking in circles.
I’ll be Home.
Amen to that.

A Blunder

2007-06-25T19:46:00.000+05:30

I love watching the sit-coms in star world. Whether it’s in the genre of ‘The Simpsons’ and ‘My wife and kids, or the professional goof ups, angst, gaffes, relation-ships, comedy-of-life in ‘ 30 Rock’ and ‘Grey’s anatomy’.

Oh the saga of sit-coms , does not end here. The list is long but we’ll stick to these to be ‘in context’.

Whether its Homer Simpson and his endless faux pas, or Liz and her continual retreat from ‘herself’; aren’t they more or less a reflection of ourselves?

Society in the reel-world, look at such characters with either pity or sympathy, and most often than not, with disdain. Well, isn’t this a miniature replica of society in the real world?

Homer Simpson ‘ eats up his feelings’. I mean literally.
And am no different!
Succumbing to an extra plate of noodles in one of my low phases; the ‘strings of fried-flour’ might as well cover the hole in my soul.

Liz Lemon’s life revolves around the lives of her stick-in-the-ass boss, her neurotic best friend, the monkeyshines of Tracy-the TV star. In short, she was fixing everybody’s life but her own!
And here I am tearing off my hair in dilemma, embroiling myself in the lives and problems of others.

And the icing in the cake is that, watching these sit-coms is one of my great-escapes!

I am one heck of a Social Blunder :)

The Human Spirit

2007-04-13T22:41:00.000+05:30

...She was of 20 years. She led a good life. A well-respected loving family, friends by the dozen, a college degree to pursue, a boy friend, a hundred and one million things to do; in short a picturesque lifestyle.
Hell broke lose one day, when an expression of her love and passion, had dire consequences. She found out she was three weeks pregnant. Outside wedlock, this is not the done thing.
Not just because society frowns upon it but she had her father’s reputation to protect.
He was an established preacher in the community.
Confining herself in solitude, she stopped attending classes, began gorging on books, and resorted to pills in-order to quiet the growing life inside her, until one day she was discovered.

The house had the aura of a funeral home. Quiet sobs, with an occasional wailing here and there filled up the rooms. A devastated family stood around, shocked, bewildered,
in-decisive about the next course of action. It’s a marvel how the undying human spirit shows up at such times. It guides us to pick up the broken pieces, patch them together and build an equally beautiful story of triumph.
She finally gave birth to a beautiful baby, walked down the isle with the child’s father, created a life for them as a family, working odd jobs; completed her degree, went on to attain her masters with honors. She is now in pursuit of a Phd in Education, while lecturing at a University, lovingly and selflessly putting her house in order—a handful 24/7 job needless to say, with two small kids and an equally busy husband.
____________________________________________________________________

..........She is now of 40 years, single and with job. The youngest daughter in a community that, apart from handing over the family legacy to the youngest daughter, also hands over the cloak of duty and responsibility of providing, protecting and caring for the parents, old and most likely worn out with the aches and pains of life.
She had (still does) a beauty and a charm about her and yes more than a handful suitors.
Yet, she chose not the path of a married life. None of her loved ones could understand the reason why. Maybe its because she never met the right man. But on after-thought, maybe its because she wanted to give her undivided love and attention to either her aged parents or her husband but not both.

Looking at her now, juggling between her work and her nursing duty at home brings up emotions mind you, not of sadness or sympathy, but awe!
Her home is the family home, where all gathered around for family meets or occasions.
Her ears are always ready to listen and make your burdens, seem lighter.
I have heard and seen frequent nights when she remained awake all night just to cater to the needs of her invalid parents. Yes, I have heard her quiet sobs of weariness but voila, the next minute her giving, loving, compassionate spirit is back!
I realized that if I was even half the woman, the human that she is, maybe my life would be more fulfilled..,I won’t have to be another Robert Miles who says he has miles to go before he sleep.

When two old friends meet...

2007-03-08T00:00:00.000+05:30

Their story dated way back to the 90’s.
They started off with a bang in the last year of school.
They soon became inseparable while in college.

Through those early woman years, they dreamt together, shared, laughed and cried.
Through crushes and similar love interests, they revel.
Attending tuitions together, added the fizz in their academic pursuits.
In their clumsy grown up years, they tried to live ‘beyond their ages’ for each other; counseling, reprimanding, tried to give each other the wisdom that can only come with age. So in this endearing comedy of ‘being there for each other’, they flourished.

Two girls, both the youngest in their respective khasi*- families, fed with similar values and principles, schooled in the same institution, reservoirs of big dreams: one wanted to be a doctor , a good daughter and wife , while the other wanted to be an engineer, gain wealth, power and fame.

In their similar attributes they relish and in their differences, they grew in respect.

College years drew to a closed. It was time to go in pursuit of your dreams. While one went off to a different state to learn what it takes to become an engineer, the other stayed back in Shillong, hoping to get a foothold in the medical field.

They parted but of-course, never said good-bye. In course of time, the frequent letters became infrequent, till there were none. The holidays were re-union time-sharing, bonding, laughing on lost times. Soon changes in lifestyles, thinking, people, priorities, experiences, did not bring them together on holidays. It was such that, one was unaware of the other’s presence in the same city. None was to be blame. Time just had its cards to play.

But lo and behold, on one fine Friday noon, the 2nd of March, 2007…while she was passing through a busy shopping area in Shillong, she saw a pretty petite lady in jainsem.
‘Jenny!’ she shouted in pleasant disbelief.
Stunned, the petite lady shouted back ‘Yet, is it really you!’.
In seconds and in smiles, they were hugging each other.
It took less than a mili-second for that old feeling of warm, camaraderie, loving friendship to overwhelm them.

The more bubbly and vivacious of them both, Jenny was ecstatically shouting ‘We need to meet now! We have a lot of catching up to do. I have so much to tell you. Let’s have coffee somewhere. Yet, today, tonight, now…we need to talk’.

Bemused but wonderfully touched by Jenny’s warm and lovable nature (something Yet always cherishes about Jenny), Yet could not say no.

In a matter of 30 mins later, the two old friends met up at New Hope Centre restaurant.

Jenny, has come a long way. With honors in MSc, she is now a distinguished lecturer in Martin Luther’s University, Shillong. She is a gem of a lady, well-loved by many (especially counting by the line of suitors she has), a well-deserved princess in her family, highly responsible and dutiful. And oh yes, as lively and so ‘full of stories’ as ever.

The highly ambitious Yet, is in the rat race of climbing the corporate ladder, working in an American IT company. She is forever in the battle of trying to bring a balance between her professional duties and the call of duty at home- for her parents.

So it was inevitably that when the two old friends got together, they set the house on fire, in no time.

After 7 years of being in and out of touch with each other, they sure do have a lot to catch up on. Through two rounds of coffee, they went through the bits and pieces of each others work lives, family lives and of-course, their rollercoaster love lives.
They have been tried and tested in similar yet, unrelated ways. It amazes them that at 26, they were single, almost committed and still so confused.
They have not done so badly with their lives. They have worn the ‘mantel of responsibility’ for their parents and siblings with grace and élan. But they still marvel at the fact that even-though they are now well accomplished, financially independent and secured, they have still to find that ‘magic formula’(if there was any) to make the men in their lives as comfortable as they felt. As loving and giving as they both are, they felt bereft of the same.
Thus, they concluded that if you are a woman who is of 25 years, still not married or hitched, you will soon be at the crossroads of the most tumultuous, tear jerking, complex phase of your life; where even if you have carved a niche for yourself , you would still be left wondering, where the hell is your life heading!

The non-stop chattering, sobs, smiles, comforting words between two friends had to end, as the noon turned into night, and as the Shillong night air turned cooler. They hugged, provided each other with comforting words and advices, promised to be in touch with the exchange of email-ids and phone numbers, bid good-bye till…time favors their meeting again.

They parted as friends, as kindred-souls, as two girls each living a woman’s life….

Their innocence and sincerity is there for every living soul to see and feel.

Kaleidoscope

2007-02-26T18:46:00.000+05:30

Bits & pieces of me....

Of heroes & lessons

2007-02-25T13:32:00.000+05:30

When all is stripped away, we look within our hearts.

While this is a typical human retreat, it could be a relevation of something as cryptic as what made you who you are now. Would you bleed when pinced or would you counteract, would you smile or cry with happiness...

I don't have an idol nor an ideal. But i have come across heroes, ate with them,sup with them,withnessed their lives, and their simple acts of living, have helped shaped me for what i am today.

'Mei Emma'-the most dedicated mother ever.She was my governess till i was 10 years old.I was the apple of her eye;i was her weakness too.I recall , to my detriment she would rather support me, even if i had wronged my sister .She provided that critical security required in the formative years of a child, that when she finally passed away, i did not even blink!

That's the strength of true love...it lives on.

I saw how the struggles and the daily-grind of his 20 years as a coolie,has etched on his face, lines of prudence and humility.He did his task with deligence,making it all look so easy and effortless, despite his limping and his old-aged.In the hury and bury of the Guwahati railway station, my folks missed out on giving him his well-earned wage.His face, his thoughts has resided in my mind for many years now.He has kept me sane and humane.He helped me think before i disregard another being because of his vocation or social-standing.

Nine luggages and no reservation, i was stranded at Kathgodam railway station.With a general class ticket on my hand,i was helpless.How was i suppose to get into the general compartment with nine baggages,in the rush?Well, angels do exist.Out of no-where, this young nondescript lad turned up, took my luggages, shoved them inside the train boggie and got me a seat. Bewildered as i was, i was thankful.I found myslef lodge in a compartment full of men-folks, wooden seats and the thought of having a night's rest, just flew out the window.Against my will, i nodded off to sleep, only to find my head resting on the lad's shoulder in the wee morning hours.He assured me not to worry and eventually he even made sure i arrived safely in Delhi.

I have not forgotten you Arjun.Your thoughtfulness have made me a better person more than you'd ever know.

Little acts like these by strangers i have met in my journey so far;

their stories shared in words and seen through their eyes;

Have definitely shaped my outlook.

There are many more stories to be told of refined individuals, living ordinary lives who have become my heroes through the years...

I hope i lived long enough to tell their stories.

For now all i could do or say...is hope that

'In my life, you are lifted up.

In my world, you are lifted up.

In my prayers, you are lifted up.'

No Doubt (This is what keeps me going...)

2007-02-15T22:51:00.000+05:30

There is a time to take a reckless leap of faith,
There is a time to be cautious and wait.
And there's a way of learning from the past,
That the time of trouble won't last.

And sometimes we want to think we know,
the way He will chose to make us grow.
But its never the way of our chosing,
And we can't always see what He is using.

No doubt, it will be alright
With God, it will all work together for good.
No doubt in the end it will be understood.

There will be winters in the seasons of our souls,
With the cold and bitter wind that chills our lives;
But our faith can be building a fire,
That will warm us till springtime arrives.

...Cruise...

2007-02-14T15:19:00.000+05:30

2 years has just blitzed by me...

So my reflective mood is understandable.
Cilche as it sounds, i have come a long way since 14 Feb, 2005.

That direly morning, in pitch darkness the bike went out of control and bam!, my head took the heaviest physical beating ever.
Its suffice to say, it beat the living daylights out of my loved ones. As i stayed unconcious on the hospital bed, they were in angst.

As i opened my eyes, dazed, unable to comprehend what is happening around me--That's when my 'real living' started.

Its an understatement to say that i was like a zombie.As i was recuperating, i was trying to bring back a semblance into my mind (a task not made easy, as my head chose to play a rigmarole,inducing excruciating pain).I was wondering, how did this happen,why did it all happen, what happens next, what has broken and how was i suppose to pick up the pieces??

Slowly, life got back into so called normality.
It wasn't easy.There were a lot of emotions gone awry, and in the midst of trying to set things straight, i lost more that what i had bargain for.Yes, it brought up a huge wall between me and my best-friend.Our friendship was in pieces. But hey, at the same time, i gained more that what i had ever dreamed of.I met and gained a friend,a comforter,a soul-mate, and if fate permits-a life time companion.
Looking back,it feels sadistic that 'one man's lost is another man's gain' or is it 'you lose some, you gain some'???

Well student life finally came to an end.We moved on in the hope of building a career for ourselves.With the Almighty's grace, i landed myself in a good job with a handsome deal, in one of the leading life-insurance companies.I was looking forward to a career in Pune city, when fate decided otherwise.I was posted to Siliguri,a small town in the East of India.Needless to say, but i was deeply dissapointed.

My experience in Siliguri did not last long as i chose to quit,believing i could do better.But the experience did give me a taste of the mundane office-work;the unavoidable office politics;the person who smiles with you, is not necessarily your supporter;and i saw how the indian work culture does not bow down to any foreign work-etiquettes.

Back in Pune, i was on the job hunt.But atlast, with the inspiration from my friend, i moved to Bangalore in search of better pastures (maybe this city-hopping is an inherent trait of our so called nomadic ancestors :) )
Yeah, rightly said that if 'one door closses, another one opens up'. So there i was learning the ropes again, working with Oracle.Next time someone tells you, education is important, for your own good, don't take it as your Bible.Because what you do in your job, is a re-engineering of whatever was taught to you rather an application of what you had learnt.
By then i was a seasoned player in the job world.
As pompous as i may sound, i knew what i wanted, what fires me up, what am good at, and what makes me sleep with a smile at the end of a hard day at work.

So, am happily settled now with Ariba Technologies.
Learning and applying what i learned, has never been more exciting.

Three jobs in a matter of one and a half years, broken and rebuilt relations,losing some-winning others,beliefs shaken-beliefs strengthen,love lost-love gain, giving in to drawing the line, cuppachino to coffee mocha...

Yes, i am alive...
and am living it...

Some questions still remain unanswerd...and i don't know if they will ever be...

It is safe to say, am geared up...excited to see what fate throws my way. Whatever comes, whatever happens, i sure do hope that i will be wearing my head upon my shoulders, and my heart upon my sleeves :)

Yes i am not afraid to love

2007-02-08T16:54:00.000+05:30

The Rose

by Amanda McBrooom from the soundtrack to "The Rose"

Some say love, it is a river

that drowns the tender reed.

Some say love, it is a razor

that leaves your soul to bleed.

Some say love, it is a hunger,

an endless aching need.

I say love, it is a flower,

and you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking

that never learns to dance.

It's the dream afraid of waking

that never takes the chance.I

t's the one who won't be taken,

who cannot seem to give,

and the soul afraid of dyin'

that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely

and the road has been to long,

and you think that love is only

for the lucky and the strong,j

ust remember in the winter

far beneath the bitter snows

lies the seed that with the sun's love

in the spring becomes the rose.

Put your house in order first...

2007-02-02T20:09:00.000+05:30

The news seems to blaze each and every news channel for weeks now ...

It has been and still is the hot topic of discussion whether its CNN-IBN or NDTV or BBC ...Oh, lets not forget the vernacular news channels.

India's dignity was shredded... an ignorant britisher passed some comments on the eating style of a indian bollywood star. This screams racism!!

The Bristish media and the House of Commons was quick to condemn it.

The world was quick to condemn it.

Back home, in India, protests broke out everywhere.Indians all over were quick to retaliate against so called racism.The communal riots in Bangalore and Mumbai was forgotten in the noise,lost in the hue and cry-'how can anyone criticized the Indian life-style'. For that one second in donkey's years, Indians at home and all over the world unite in one voice.

Strange, that we are ready to raise heaven and hell because a foreigner, alien to our culture, in her lack of wisdom, questioned the eating style of our Indian sister;Will we do the the same if an Indian says the same thing to an Indian brother?

I am from the unobtrusive picturesque land of Shillong, in Meghalaya.W e are part of a group of people addressed as the "north-easterners' by the mainstream Indian. I used the word 'mainstream' not to be offensive but to bring out the stark irony we live in.The North-Eastern people have always been looked at with what i called 'the jaundice eye'.Yes, our culture is different from the gujurati's of western india, or the kannadigas of southern india, or even the kumaoni's of north india.But in the midst of our differences, the bottomline is we are Indians.

We are a group of people protective about our cultural roots but also gifted with a sense of humour. Often we have been teased on our looks ( addressed as chinkies), our food, our life-styles.We take it all in our stride. We laugh along with the rest of India.Ask me, i can relate many such stories.Infact, by laughing along with such jokes passed in good-spirits, it became an ice-breaker and i have formed many long-lasting friendships.

But all is not spic and span.

Sometimes, the merry-jokes crosses the limits of proprietary.

Our hands our tied. We cannot retaliate. We are out-numbered.

The hot-headed or the valiant amongst us who dares to raise our voice, only end up 'digging graves for ourselves'.We cannot expect to strive socially and in our professions if we don't 'grin and bear'.

I wonder if this is not racism?

I am sure this is not an issue that only the so called 'chinkies' faces. The gujjus, the mallus ,the biharis etc must be going through the same ordeal.

Oh yes, you say this is inevitable. Afterall we live in India where people of varied cultures live and strive. It is only natural that such differences arises.

True.

But, before we set the world in order, why don't we set our country in order?

Before we point a finger at a person alien to our Indian culture, why don't we embrace our differences first?

Atlast, one can only sigh and say ' It is all but a comedy of errors'.

(Disclaimer: This article is not meant to scandalise your senses and defintely not meant to offend anyone (truth is hard to swallow??). It is not a denial that racism does not exist in our society.It actually show how anesthetize we all are.Ofcourse,there are bigger problems out there. But i surely hope we do not lose our humanity in the process)

Happy Zone

2007-02-02T00:13:00.000+05:30

I took an off from work today.
Thought, what is the harm in chilling out by my own? (Of-course, in the comfy of my apartment).
I was almost successful, except for a call from office demanding me to get online and on the phone for a meeting. Sigh, who ever said freedom is our right :)

Anyways, I was cheered up by a feel-good movie called ‘Kate and Leopolt’. Made me come to terms with my girlish dreams and fantasies again. Oh yeah, it was a make-believe movie but it made me feel alive again! So what the heck!

Its every girl’s dream that a knight or a gentleman (as mentioned in old Barbara Cartland romantic novels) appears in a white majestic horse, scoops her up or mounts her in to the horse with him, and they both ride away into the horizon. Whew, just the thought of it, makes me melt.

Yes it’s every girl’s dream. Even the fast paced, career-driven woman sometimes loses herself in that wish. Even the most brusque, matter-of-fact, tyrannical head-mistress has a soft spot.

A woman develops a defense mechanism around her as she dealt with the cards life throws at her. Often, her attention being taken over by survival instinct; the soft, gentle, safe-zone of her fantasies get bulldoze into the background.

Its moments like this- watching a movie and getting lost in its character, which brings back the softer side.
It brings back the saner side of life. Yes, its an irony that a fantasy can do that!

And you know what? When you come out of the fantasy, you are not remorseful because reality strikes back. You are actually rejuvenated!

Who needs shrinks or counselors when one can just get lost into your fantasies and come back with a bounce!

Benumbed

2007-01-31T22:22:00.000+05:30

' You dont lose something you never had'...this line cropped up in my mind, troubling me instead of comforting me.
It sent a chill down my spine and a piercing pain into my heart.

Perusing through the writings for a loved one , i suddenly had this premonition that i may lose him.He may no longer be a part of my life.Thats when this thought cropped up 'You don't lose something you never had'.

Have, Had? Is it the same as 'owning' something?The dictionary does uses words like acquire,possess,procure, occupy,own,get,hold.This does sound like something could ' belong to you'. But it also uses words like enjoy,accept,teem with!
While the former descriptions sounds abominable, the latter sounds nice, kind and gentle.

I was more confuse than ever.

So what is to 'lose'? What does one mean by 'losing'? Do you just lose or do you lose something?I am sure they do not mean the same thing.
Well, to my physical-education teacher 'to lose' would mean you failed to win,you have become poorer than what you already are in mind, body and spirit.
To a philosopher losing would mean 'another stepping stone to success'.
My pastor would say 'losing means the time is not right for you to excel.In God's time, it will happen'.
To my mom, 'losing is an opportunity for you to be kind to another being who needed something more than you do'.

Well its not a very pleasing subject to ponder upon.
A part of me despises myself for coming up with such thoughts.
Its strange that such a thought even ocurred. I have always believed that i am made of stronger straw and i do not 'belong to or associate with' ....
Is it just a facade?
I am chill to my bone...

2007-01-18T21:04:00.000+05:30

Have not been able to give my time to this blog...
Been busy with work and commitments :)
Will get back asap !!! ciao
Got alot to pen down....so i will be back soon

From a Distance-( Bette Milder)

2007-01-18T20:46:00.000+05:30

From a distance the world looks blue and green,and the snow-capped mountains white.

From a distance the ocean meets the stream,and the eagle takes to flight.

From a distance, there is harmony,and it echoes through the land.

It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace,it's the voice of every man.

From a distance we all have enough,and no one is in need.And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease,no hungry mouths to feed.

From a distance we are instrumentsmarching in a common band.Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace.

They're the songs of every man.God is watching us. God is watching us.God is watching us from a distance.

From a distance you look like my friend,even though we are at war.

From a distance I just cannot comprehendwhat all this fighting is for.

From a distance there is harmony,and it echoes through the land.

And it's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves,it's the heart of every man.

It's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves.This is the song of every man.

And God is watching us, God is watching us,God is watching us from a distance.

Oh, God is watching us, God is watching.God is watching us from a distance

Back to Square One

2006-11-07T20:39:00.000+05:30

For as long as I can remember, I have always been more 'gifted in proportion’ than my sibling or my kit and kin.
I was the apple of everybody’s eye.
The cute chubby baby, who grew up so fast.

Apart from teasing me by pulling my cheeks; biting into my arms; making me stand on one foot in the palm of their hands; challenging me to prove my love by not giggling ,when they tickle me;
just almost everybody , especially my aunts and uncles liked to feed me:)

From being a chubby baby, it become ‘baby-fat teen'. Till my early teens, it was still plain-sailing.

College years- That’s when all hell broke lose.

The baby fat is no fad at all. Being fat or even being slightly overweight ( to put it mildly ), was no less than disgusting, loathsome, repulsive to the aesthetic sense, and spells out an ‘unkempt’ personality.

That’s when my battle against the bulge begun.

Fortunately, I was an active kid and thus, a sports crazy teen. I was into basketball (maybe to the eye, I looked like one myself), volley-ball, TT, tennis, discuss-throw, shot-put and even for sometime I resorted to football with the guys.

Innumerable times I had missed the school-bus cause I was late from soccer practice.
In fourth standard, my grades suffered.
Hanging out with the soccer gang, my vocabulary turned colorful. It forced my mom to use the stick.

But all was in Vain. I never became a ‘Perfect 10’.

Then I turned to the gym. Since a gym-membership would burn a hole in my parents’ pocket, I used the homegrown gym of some of my health –freaks friends. In their limited wisdom, they taught me ‘weight training’ and I ended up looking like a baby-female- ArnoldJ
Still I carried the look with as much grace as possible.

In my 12th standard, the pursuit of academics was a priority. So for sometime, sporting activities disappeared from my itinerary.

Degree years came along. The lively spirit of my friend Pooja and the ‘call of the fields’ more enticing than a ‘mechanics session’ in the classroom, I was back. Pooja and I, woke up two of our 4th year seniors daily every dawn; and forced them at gunshot, to teach us the trick of the trade, in Lawn Tennis.

But I remain the same. The same healthy, full-figured, comely lass, who hid behind a boyish demeanor.

By then I had given up all hopes that ‘being active is the answer to a fit and thin frame’. When I hear or read so called exercise gurus and nutritionists, I casually look away. To me what they say is just passing fads. Today they say something, tomorrow they mouth something else. Today a banana is a source of good nutrition; tomorrow it’s bad for slimming.

In no time I became financially independent. I could afford gym-membership. But, I was no longer a believer.

The marketing efforts of VLCC managed to catch my interest.. Yes, I was duped. I paid them a fortune for telling me what to eat ( I am more of an expert on nutrition than their nutritionists);and for wrapping me with a vibrating belt to make me sweat!

By this time, I have lost all faith on what is called ‘the done-thing’.

It took a nice gentleman, whose breakfast shop I frequented, in the by-lanes of Coles Road, Bangalore, to make me laugh it all out. He jolted my senses when he said, ‘You look the way you feel. Skipping mayonnaise or an egg sandwich does not increase your worth. My wife skips dinner or lunch just like u. It doesn’t matter to me how she looks then and how she looks now. She remains beautiful to me’. Sweet, touchy and romantic. That gentleman made my day.
Moral of the story is: I am back to where I began. But, with a different outlook…

I avail the office gym to beat the sedentary life-style, the lethargy, to make my heart younger and my mind smarter.
The ‘Perfect 10’ is now a distant memory.

I have never been more at peace or happier.

Destiny's Child

2006-11-05T23:56:00.000+05:30

I asked for happiness, reassurance, wealth, comfort, success and a purpose.
I sought for meaning.
But, there is one thing I never asked for.
I did not seek for love.
Yet, it found me.

In the giving and partaking of this selfless- healing- edifying, affection, I have discovered myself, evolve and felt fulfilled.
I know not what lies ahead.

The important thing is I feel like the ‘Chosen-One’.
When I look at all the signs; I am able to arrive at only one conclusion.

To be so blessed and yet so indecisive,
Only goes to confirm my sanctification or consecration.
Shalom reigns :-)

The Beginning Of Always

2006-10-17T22:16:00.001+05:30

I have heard of this so many times.
I have listened to innumerable reasons, why not to take the walk.
I have almost been taken in by it all.

We read so much about it in the media.
Every Sunday read, there is always a section on it.
The central theme has always been how the two poles don’t ever meet.
One of the #1 Best Sellers is ‘Men are from Mars, women are from Venus’.

For some, they follow the adage ‘once bitten, twice shy’.
For others, it’s just a chosen way of life.
But the rest, are just ‘chickened out’.

The last time I was home, we celebrated my grandparents 50 years of marriage.
The best times spent with them, for as long as I can remember, were those when they were engaged in a seemingly never-ending debate with each other.

Grandma, the more controlling between them would disagree or rebuff everything my grandpa said or did. She rarely wears a pleasant expression when he was nearby.

When he says, ‘Yet (that’s my pet name), get up early tomorrow because we are going fishing ’. That was music to my ears. Grandma knew that I have wanted to accompany them on their fishing trips. Though, happy for me, she would say to me within grandpa’s earshot, ‘Early? You don’t have to get up early. Don’t listen to him. Just get up by 5:30am’.That was just to spite on my grandpa. My sister and I could not help smiling at their shenanigans.

Oh, those winter nights after dinner, when the whole family sat together around the fireplace, chit-chatting, having ‘kwai’ (betel-nut, also known as pan), are still so vivid in my memories. Grandpa and grandma was our centre of attraction. They were at their best ‘dueling’ spirits, trying to get the better of each other.

Through the years, age caught on grandma earlier than grandpa. She soon was confined to the bed. Where was grandpa? He was on the nearby bed, regaling her with his escapades. He likes to brag how he climbed up the orange tree that day, how he saved the cat from getting stuck in the drainage pipe. Grandma would tell him to shut up, pretended she was sleeping but the second any of us walked into their room, she was wide awake again.

Now age got its hold on grandpa too. So he is confined to a bed like grandma, in the same room. When we feed them lunch or dinner, prayer of thanks would first be offered. Grandpa always did the honors. Along with all of us, grandma would close her eyes as grandpa begins to say the prayer. But while grandpa was half way through the prayer, grandma would have already started on her food.:-))

Amidst all this differences in opinions, amidst all the drama, when you looked into their eyes, there is a connection that is hard to define. It radiates a warm and peaceful feeling all around.

My grandparents are heroes.
They took a step which a thousand so called X-generation guys of today, dare not take.
On the assumption that relationships end after marriage, on the argument that marriage is a compromise, they shirk away from it. They are proud to wear the ‘commitment-shy’ tag.
Let us not be politically correct. Let us call a spade what it is. We who fear at even the sense of the word ‘marriage’ are nothing less than ‘Cowards’.

I salute every parent.
They took a chance and believe in the possible.
When they walked down the isle, with hope in their hearts, with faith as their guide, they knew that this was ‘the Beginning Of Always’.

Fragile Glass

2006-10-17T15:11:00.000+05:30

This is a story. A story that breaks my heart till date

Circumstances can play a trick with your emotions and walk away guilt free.
On looking back,you know you were salvaged from what was not yours to keep.

She was a simple,kind-hearted girl.She looked at life through a coloured glass; with arms outstretched,willing to accomodate anyone who seeks a friend.

He was a fun-loving boy,often seen with the 'newsmakers' of the campus; oh yes, dont forget the fairer sex:-), serenading them was his forte.

Need brought them together.

Her need for recognition,for a platform to express herself and his need for a sounding board,a primum mobile, brought them together.
Eventually they became the best of friends.

There was not a single day they did not have lunch and dinner together;not a single 'spiritual' topic they haven't explored; they ripped apart their religious beliefs and rebuilt them;they beat the midnight oil together. They were a pair to be reckoned with ,in classrooms and in gatherings;she listened to his choice of music,and grew to like it;he started reading her kind of books. To the wee hours of the morning they would digress,on every topic under the sun.
They made plans together, saw 'incredible' dreams together.

One fine day, fate takes its course.
It shook their boat of blissful contentment.

She fell from a moving vehicle, broke her crown,fought back from the jaws of death. She won the battle, but the war was still on. She needed to restart from where she had left,get on with the call of life..

While she was recovering, he had his own battle. He felt as if something had snap away from his life. He made new friends,wallow in self-pity and pondered 'what if he could turn back time'. He would do anything to freeze time,take him back to the sunny days. And so he continued living.

Yet they were not in love with each other.Rather,their relationship was quixotic or platonic.

If there was any love between them, it was need-based.

I can only Imagine

2006-10-17T15:05:00.000+05:30

A Song for me...
I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By Your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When Your face Is before me
I can only imagine
[Chorus]:
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for You Jesus or in awe of You be still
Will I stand in Your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son
I can only imagine
When all I will do Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine
(courtesy: Michael W Smith)