wandering thru a journey called life.....

Not all who wander , are lost....I read this line, I've re-read it several times and I find this line describes my journey so far pretty accurately. I've been labelled Laid Back by a few people close to me.I don't wake up to an agenda every morning. When things are not going in my favour, I prefer to let the tides change and not try to swim up-stream. Yet I was as young as 12 or 13 when I knew the two subjects I would be studying were Literature and psychology. I wanted to grow up and get masters and possible PhD in both. The director of my first play laughed and said that's a weird ambition to have. I always felt, literature and psychology are inter-linked, the way my life panned out, it makes sense why my instincts made me pursue these two subjects. My livelihood for a long time came from writing. My passion is writing and reading. My path eventually led me to become a therapist and a healer. Healing was a gift I was endowed with, therapy came to me through my studies first in psychology, then past life and now specialising in regression. I am a good listener and my experiences in life made me empathetic. My ability to bounce back every time, smiling earned me the respect of a lot of people around me.Yet I wander...

I look at my husband, he has a clear goal and dream in mind, I see many driven people around me. I marvel at their discipline. Some pursue their dreams, some fulfil responsibilities. I do both and it may seem I've lost my compass somewhere in my journey. I have no particular aim in life except to learn and grow. I savour every experience to the hilt. When in pain I wallow deep in that abyss and once the experience is over swim ashore. When in ecstasy, I fly, I soar, I spread it all around, when in love , I put movies to shame....Is n't that what life is all about, experience, learn and let go... why struggle for more when it come naturally, all you have to do is stay prepared and do your best.

My first story was published when I was 16, I became a theatre actress and later director before I completed college, I became the assistant director to a famous director while in college, I have modelled, acted, written, assisted, become a healer, a tarot reader and a therapist. I grew from a department coordinator to an assistant vice president in a span of 3 years. I left it all just as easily when my son needed me. I have no pressure of reaching a destination. I know the journey is more important. I know no matter what road I take, as long as I don't repeat the same mistakes I will reach a few good mile stones that will define my journey. The end destination is the same, death....

Today I've nothing poignant to say or write, today is just about a reminder not to judge another's journey. To do yours at your own pace. To remember the things that matter, your friends, your spouse, your children, they make this journey beautiful and worth while. If you find it poetic to watch a sunset or sun rise, and the city scape doesn't allow you that any ways, maybe you're a late riser like me and miss most sun rises, watch the sun beam your child spreads in your life. Bask in the warmth of cuddles and hugs of your loved ones after all no matter how long or short your journey, there will come a time when you will pause, you will stop to rest, that's when these memories will make your path seem beautiful, you will turn to see the person who has been your "hamsafar" (fellow passenger) and you don't want to be alone. Who then will you share the highs and lows and marvel at how far you've come....

This journey called life, is beautiful, if you chose to make it so. Fame, Success, Wealth, all are important flag posts, knowing influential people, awards and trophies are all good, but what you will carry with you beyond the grave is emotions, relationships and memories from when you paused and looked around.... wandering is good sometimes....

He saved me....in every way......

Do you remember Jack from the movie Titanic? There is a line Rose uses at the end of the film to sum up all he meant to her..."there was a man named Jack Dawson and that he saved me... in every way that a person can be saved. I don't even have a picture of him. He exists now... only in my memory."

I had a Jack Dawson in my life. Just as young, impulsive, full of life and verve. I met him at the worst lows of my life. My first marriage was on the rocks, our marriage counselling was not working. My mood would swing dangerously between depression and rage. I felt trapped, suffocated. My husband and I, both were trying to reach out, make it work yet there like this sound proof, impenetrable, unbreakable, invisible wall between us. I had my baby not even two at that time.  I had begun losing all hope.

There came a day I found my self on the edge of my balcony on the ninth floor, wondering if I should jump and end it all. Now being a spiritual person, there is a strong belief in me that no matter what comes, life is not ours to take. It belongs only to the almighty, he who has given and claim it back. My religious beliefs too told me, its a sin, I knew my one and a half year old was alone sleeping. I needed to talk to someone. I needed a rope to pull me out. I climbed back, still leaning over, dialled " jack", he was in another town then, sobbing helplessly, I told him something. I think I must have told him I couldn't go on anymore, I needed him to talk sense into me. I needed him to give me strength just for that night. He talked to me all night, all night I sobbed, I don't remember a word of what either he or I said. He talked to me on his way to the airport at the crack of dawn. A few hours later he was at my door step.

Before this night happened for a few months we were in the same town. He would take me out for coffees, give me fast rides on his bike, leave me laughing telling me stories from his childhood. My story came pouring out. He shook my mind, the dust of self pity that had accumulated over the past 3 years , he dusted off. I wanted to do something. I felt bogged down , having a young child to take care of, I still deeply cared and loved my husband but I needed to take some charge back, he told me I could do whatever I wanted to. Like "Raju Guide" from the film Guide, he shook me up. I started painting again, all my canvasses spewed violent orange . I tried getting into modelling, I thought that would help me get back myself esteem, I would meet people from the industry I had to leave after my marriage. It worked, he took me the auditions on his bike. I had no clue how to apply professional make up, or what my good angles were. Yet I had started getting hope.

After the night when I contemplated death very seriously, I found a job and moved out permanently. it was a most traumatic time for me. On one side was my family. My husband, child, in-laws that I loved greatly, and on the other hand was my sanity. I didn't know who to turn to for help. My " Jack " was there.

I don't think there is prose enough to explain my relationship with him, or the things he did for me. Like the master card tag line says somethings are priceless.

I can't recapture our memories in ample words. Yet all I know is some day I will. I know its worth being written about. I know I'm lucky to have found him when I did. The lines from the film...." he saved me... in every way that a person can be saved".......befitting in every way.
Thank-you Jack, for pulling me out. Thank-you for being there, thank you for the person you are....

Like a Note that's changed hands once too often....

As children, we are read fairy tales just before we sleep. We have heard Snow White, Cinderella, Rose Red,Rapunzel and so many more. In all those lovely enchanted tales, the princess leads a miserable life due to one factor or another, her prince charming comes along and rescues her. In beauty and the beast, the role is reversed and the young girl rescues the beast and he turns back into a prince.

As I grew into my teens, the world of fairy tales did not end, they turned into Victoria Holts, Mills & Boons, Danielle Steel. Here again were love stories in various settings, the handsome, ruthless man would sweep the young girl off her petite feet, after a few misunderstanding, ups and downs a few lovers quarrels down the line, the handsome rich man would declare his undying love to the unsuspecting girl who is any ways wallowing for him. They make passionate declarations and settle down in very picturesque settings...

When i got to some serious literature, I was taken into yet another world of passionate , true love, here I encountered pathos and tragedy, Romeo and Juliet, Sense and Sensibilities, Pride and Prejudice,Wuthering Heights, in Pulp Fiction Classics Thorn Birds, Gone With  the Wind, even Fountain Head... the theme was the same, two people in love, the hero and the heroines perfect, beautiful, wealthy....

I'm aware more women would have read the books I mention, yet I'm sure men too have grown up on their own versions of the perfect woman and their version of happily ever afters.. maybe it entails a wife who smells good always, wears tights minis over her perfect size zero body, serves beers with a smile and leaves him alone to watch sport......

Fantasy and fiction are great escapes. yet a lot of our expectations are somehow influenced by what we have been fed through stories before we could comprehend complete sentences even. What did Fiona (from Shrek) think when she realised her Prince Charming was an Ogre?? He scratches, belches, Farts, Drops food crumbs on the front of his shirt, he gets angry and says cruel things. What does the man think when he sees the "woman of his dreams" go through pms, have fuzz on her legs in between her waxing appointments, wakes up with tousled hair and morning breath. What happens when the real quarrels in life are nothing close to the cute fights we read in books but are on real issues, real differences about life style, chore duties, money, space?

True everyone knows fairy tales are just that stories, we don't build our dreams around them, yet some where deep down don't we all want a story worthy of a block buster film. Don't we all wish for a love story, down to cheesy dialogues and all with a happy ending? 

With years and experience, we move from our infatuation ad crush phase to flings and affairs, we have a few nights stands, perhaps settle down with one giving in to our practical side, knowing life is not made up of chocolate houses and rose gardens. We move from one person to another trying to see where we fit the best, like a note that's changed hands once too often, the clean crisp note become dirty, stained, crumpled and smelly. The freshness lost along the way.....


Today i read this on facebook "

He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt ...him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you. ― Bob Marley

I read it, and found it so true, I know what Fiona thought when she saw her ogre, she thought He may not be conventionally good looking, but in my eyes he's as handsome as they come, his weird idiosyncrasies, only I'm a witness because he trusts and loves me, he may not spout romantic verses but his actions prove he loves me, i may not be a princess, yet he makes me feel like one, he treats me like one, yes he's doesn't fit in by the books definitions, yet he is my prince charming for sure.....

I've carried my romantic ideas ever since I can remember. I was never disappointed.....hurt? several times... yet i carried memories of the good times. I longed for the perfect ending to my story, madly in love, romantic moments, the perfect proposal with him down on his knees, maybe on the seas on a starry night, a passionate kiss when i demurely say yes, the grand wedding with everyone laughing, a honeymoon where we would be inseparable, laughing, kissing....None of this happened. What did make it memorable though were moments some where along the journey, watching him dance with a sheepish grin on his face, a dress he bought for me that I'd been looking at , morning tea served to me because I hate waking up early, I put the golden halo around these moments , to recall them at will when my daily life seems to lack the luster. I have several such albums of snap shots , in my head, from all my relationships... I open them from time to time, relive those beautiful memories, my own fairy tales. I keep them safe for lonely nights and winters of life, they bring back the smile and sunshine... I do have a fairy tale of mine, several of them in fact....

The True Followers of Satan...

Yoga, work of the devil: Vatican priest

http://zeenews.india.com/entertainment/and-more/yoga-work-of-the-devil-vatican-priest_101058.htm

I woke up today morning and read this bizarre piece of news. I wonder at the ignorance, the narrow mindedness, of clergies across religions. Intolerance seems to be their only mantra. They grapple with a subject much too vast for their petty minds to grasp even the basic concepts of. They do not understand the world we live in, they do not understand the very scriptures they claim to be experts in. Above all they DO NOT UNDERSTAND GOD!!!! For our understanding and to avoid mis- understanding, let me divide it into two Spirituality, that which enhances understanding the "spirit" of a doctrine on the Universal Laws and "religion" that which tries to limit its knowledge to the region of their immediate understanding.

I have never understood how Christianity, a religion based purely on Love and Forgiveness, that clearly teaches one something as simple as  

"Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? 

and clearly states  

"But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"

The basic principal of Christianity is  

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets." 

how does Love thy neighbor, forgive those who sin against you and pray for sinners translate into any form of intolerance? 

A man, so called Man of God, who understands "His God, his religion and his scriptures" from his own narrow point of view. Showing no tolerance or understanding on Yoga condemns it, strikes fear into people who respect him and turn to him for guidance. He fears the satan being and exorcist and sees his fear manifested in everything around him that is unfamiliar/ unknown. He spreads his fear like a virus in hearts around him, spreading hatred instead of the love Christ preached. 

God resides in every Individual and does not need human mediums to explain his doctrine to other, nor to force individual opinions down other's throat.These men of God are perhaps afraid to let people understand the "True essence of God", for then they will not be needed. They confuse the people by using important sounding words, mumbo jumbo rituals to feed the very ego that keeps one away from God. God resides where there is no Ego, where there is completely surrender. Shallow people claim God and religion to be their personal property and use it to further their own gains.

If God were religion, there would only be one religion in the world... Love. God does not need religion. He is Omnipotent, omnipresent  and omni- loving. Love is all any " God" and "scripture" or "commandments" have ever really tried to teach. The so called Pagan religions worship everything created by God, they worship nature, animals, they worship the good, they believe bad can be overcome.

Doctrines and scriptures have been Misinterpreted by humans who fight to prove their version is correct and divide their very people into sects based on disagreement on minor details in books written again by humans, translated and preached by humans, understood (  mis-understood) by humans, might I ask how much human error could there have been since centuries of human handling of passing down of stories. Ever heard of Chinese whispers people? A lot gets lost in translation. 

God is one thing, Love, he /she would never want his creations to be divided by hatred, fear and intolerance.

Let me end with another bizarre story that was in the news a few months back, illustrating what I've to say . Education is also not a guarantee for tolerance or understanding. 

Homoeopathy is witchcraft, say doctors

Homoeopathy is "witchcraft" and the National Health Service should not pay for it, the British Medical Association has declared. Homeopathy-is-witchcraft-say-doctors.html

If people of medicine, so called men of science and education can talk rubbish , talk of witchcraft and show such intolerance what can we expect from people who are just blind followers of teachers, preachers and leaders of "religion" I have a question for the clergies of the world, When you teach intolerance, fear and hatred who is the true follower of Satan, Shaitan or the Devil?

 

The unforgettable Dark One....

The year I was born, my birthday fell on Krishna Janamshtami ( Lord Krishna's Birthday). I grew up with a strange affinity toward him. I loved reading stories of his childhood. I understand Krishna in 3 distinct roles. The politician side of him and the Karma Teacher side of him , need two other blogs. The first side of him ,I got acquainted with, was Kanha, the young Krishna from the toddler to the young boy. i would listen to Radio dramas based on his life. A lot of poets found great inspiration not only from his antics, but also from his charms, his good looks. I remember one poet describing toddler Krishna sitting on a polished floor. he describes the visual as seeing a lotus flower ( due to the reflection on the floor), his fish shaped earring kissing his cheeks and as he gurgles in delight his little pearls light up his face. All imageries from their poems made him sound completely adorable as a child, naughty yet lovable. As a young boy, teasing the belles of the village, his love with young Radha, his playing flute, all completely painted a romantic picture of him, which very few women can resist. i could understand how Meera became his devotee having first fallen in love with him. by the time I was in grade 5 I was completely in love with flute playing, cow herding, Radha's Krishna.

In my previous blog I wrote how Radha should let go and move on, yet I so understand how hard it must be for her, she who told Krishna I want to savor the pain of our parting, the sweetness of this piercing pain...He in return gave her his flute, saying never again would he play the flute again. His music was for her. It also indicates an end of an era in his life. He was moving onto serious things in life. He had a huge role to play in life. he carried with him the sweetness of young love, the music that comes from innocent love and carefree days. He knew those carefree days were gone. He was entering a vicious world, the "real world" of politics, ambitions, his Karma bhoomi....

Yet lingering on his romantic aspect, he is as good as they come.He knew how to arouse women's senses. He could entice them with his smile, pay compliments and make them blush, make Radha hopping mad by making her jealous and then turn the tables and the whole situation that she was helpless in the sunshine of his love.He later went onto train in 64 various arts including the art of love making. No woman what ever her age could resist his charms. When I was watching " The Legends of the Falls", I was wondering about Brad Pitts character. Was it a version of Krishna in a situation out of India. The wild, untamed boy. He who would go to a war to protect his kid brother, a war he did not believe in. A man who could drive a woman mad by her love and desire for him. A man who was not always correct but somehow right... most times.

I see Krishna, and I see the quintessential boy in school , who is plain bad news, yet so irresistible. Every time you make up your mind, you'll not support him in his truancy, yet you become gullible as soon as he looks deep into your eyes. His eyes, deep, intense, passionate, alluring, and yet innocent. You know you're flirting with danger, putting your heart on the line, you know for sure you'll get hurt somewhere down the line, yet the tug at your heart is so strong, your knees go weak at his smile, the way her says sorry na, come on, who else will help me if not you. You feel a chemistry , you did not know could exist except in paperback novels you read when no one is looking. Both don't do any thing about the chemistry, you pretend it doesn't affect you, that you're not getting hot under your collar, that your mouth is not going dry....He takes your loyalty for granted, he teases you into submission, he makes you laugh just when you'll about to boil over in indignation. he is the boy you never get over... He , yes Krishna, that's what he does to you.he makes you fall head over heels in love and turns your world upside down. You see his flaws and failing, you cover up for them, helplessly in love with a boy who takes you soaring with the winds, dropping you back to the ground breathless and brilliantly alive.....

As I grew older, I read more and more on Lord Shiva, I started falling in love with the man Lord Shiva represented. (Read The Eternal  Vagabond). He was such a contrast to my Krishna, yet certain strain felt so familiar, so similar. He evoked similar passions, loyalties. He was far more giving, and he stuck around. A couple of months back reading Shiv Purana, I blushed reading about his love, his sexual relationship with his wife, I was so amused and tickled when he was shy on their first night together, his wife made the first move. He made his wife feel so loved, so attractive, their passions were so great, I was mesmerized...I was wondering, I love Krishna and Shiva, equally passionately, how can that be. How can I love two distinct personalities with equal fervor. (My path of devotion is also through love....)Then it struck me Krishna is the boy, Shiva the man, the girl in me loves Krishna, the uncertainty, the first love, the first stirring of chemistry, and Shiva is the culmination... Just as I came to this understanding I reached the portion in Shiv Purana that said, Vishnu ( the higher self of Krishna ) and I ( Shiva) are one. It all fell in place....

Every soul has been born over and over again. We all have different aspects to our personalities. each aspect needs catering to. We all have several soul mates from our various lives. We love them all equally. We love all of them passionately. I understood its ok to be in love with more than one person at a time, you love both equally honestly, intensely, truly, its just different aspect of you that falls in love with different individual. Maybe at the same time, maybe at different stages of your life. Neither is false.

Coming back to Krishna, the first love, you love him, worship him, you support him, you savor the pain he leaves in you heart as he leaves your side, if you're lucky his memories make you smile, if you're unable to let go, you  pine, one thing you can't do is forget him, ever....
Krishna...my first love...

Radha... Its time...

There are some girls I know. Completely lovely girls. I'd call them " Radhas of the world". I was one of them.

Now Radha as most Indians will know is one of the sweetest characters in Indian Mythology. She is an epitome of love. I identify a great deal with her. I loved listening to stories, poems and songs about her love story with Krishna. Krishna was the love of her life. She would hear his flute and come running to him. As every young person in love is, she was very possessive of him. Krishna never committed to her. According to a lot of explanations, he was fulfilling a promise made to Maha Maya, etc.... today again lets forget the metaphysical explanations and justifications and just look at her as a young human girl.

A young village belle in love with a charming, glib, flirtatious boy of the village. She was his favorite. She experienced love as she could have never imagined. The highs and lows of young love. The anxiety, the burst of the fire of jealousy in the belly , when seeing the beloved in the company of another girl. The bashfulness, the innocent dreams of living happily ever after. The vanity of youth thinking this is forever. The indifference to what the world will say. The passion that makes one break all societal boundaries. Radha experienced all of these and much ..more....

The time came when this boy had to leave his youth behind, leave his carefree, romantic days behind and become a man of the world. He had to go forth to fulfill his responsibilities and duties. The world was at his feet, waiting to be conquered. He left. He left Radha behind too. He never returned....

Radha, all my Radha's of this world go through similar emotions at this stage. They still hold onto the straws of hope. The want to believe "He" will come back one day. " He is the one", "Our love was true". They guard fiercely the flame of their love. They turn a deaf ear to anyone who dares tell them to move on in life. They blame everyone, but their man for his absence. "It must the other woman who entrapped him", "its his parents who don't want us together", "once he finishes his responsibility he'll come back", "if I stick around long enough he will marry me"," there must be some reason for his inability...." They just refuse to see the man for what he is. I'm not saying the love was not true. But love does not guarantee a lifetime commitment. There are various degrees of love. The love you experienced was the first thrust of youth. It is meant to fly. It comes with an expiry date. You must let go and move on.

Whatever the reason of his leaving, he has left. That is what is important. There are some men like that too. Once they face heart break, they never dare to give love another chance. A woman I know somehow managed to get back her absconding lover and tie the knot. To what end, she is still clamoring for his love, his heart is still un-committed.Love cannot be forced. It is either there, or not there.

"I WANT HIM BACK!!!", how many times in my therapy sessions have I heard this sentence, each woman convinced she is the only one experiencing this true love. " He'll never be happy without me" is the sentence they second their first declaration with." I've done so much for him." They all feel unique.

Radha, my dearest Radha, you are so full of love. Why do you waste that love on someone who did not appreciate it. Why do you wait, and pine, waste your breath on prayers that will not be answered. You deserve a beautiful life. he moved on, why can't you. Find someone who deserves your devotion, you tender love, your loyalty. Radha, I know you, see I was like you too. But do you remember, the" Ras Lilla", the dance where shadows of your Krishna danced with the other Belles of the village,whilst the real him danced with you. Do you remember what he told you as he drew the circle around himself. He said to you, any girl whose love for me, is not as true as yours , will not be able to enter this circle.... do you remember what happened then, they all entered. Not one of them was left standing out. Radha, its not that your love was not true or strong enough. Its that the other women love him just as truly.

What you should have asked him Radha, at that time, Lord, you who can see the love in every woman's heart, what circle can I draw to see who is it you truly love?? Radha, you trusted without any evidence that he loved you  the way he will never be able to love another....but was that really true?? Do you know how many wives he acquired after that? A man who loves truly will not stray. He would have stayed, if that is what he truly wanted. he didn't, and that's reason enough for you to move on too....A broken heart is not reason not to fall in love again.There is nothing wrong in finding your happiness. Remember the good times but let go of the dream.  My Radha, the epitome of young love,  the girl we all love, our inspiration in love, my best friend, my sister.... Its time....

Sex Makes you happiest....

Today in our daily tabloid there was an article "Sex makes you happiest", I started to think about what was said. To be fair, most of us will agree , this in fact is pretty true. Good sex,  makes one feel attractive, loved, compatible. It leaves one glowing, gets rid of negative energies.I feel couples who have regular good sex stay together longer even if a lot of things go wrong in their lives.

There was a time not too long back, I assumed good sex meant a good relationship. I was in a live in relationship. We both couldn't keep our hands off each other. We laughed a lot, talked a lot and made love a lot. I assumed ( mistakenly) this was a relationship for keeps.  We were together for three years. Most parts are as beautiful as can be. I have some of my best memories of my time with him.

Yet... the lack of commitment, not knowing if we were together or not or when he'll decide to take a break was excruciating to say the least on my nerves.  It was sheer nerve wrecking to live at the edge all the time. No just sex does not give you happiness.The happiness I felt with "him" was as temporary as a high you get after doping and then you come crashing down. The lows are the worst one can imagine. We were constantly on and off, there were too many break ups. There was no assurance whether " He " would turn up or not, so I couldn't make plans to go out with friends. I would spend evening alone ,just waiting and cry myself to sleep. I waited for him on my birthday. I wished he'd get me a gift... Sex in a no strings relationship gets you happiness no doubt. This happiness is just as temporary.

For Happiness to be long term and a constant state of your being, it comes as a result of a lot of little things falling in place. Sex is a huge factor but equally important is knowing you have someone you can come back home too. Happiness happens when you can say to no to sex if you're too tired or just want to talk that night, and have assurance he won't dump you. happiness comes when you can have implicit faith in someone being around through good times and bad, through sickness and in health.

Great sex didn't bring me happiness because days when I was unwell , he was partying with friends, when I was low he'd make the excuse of his parents and leave. There was no happiness because there were no spontaneous gifts, no spontaneous outings, I don't remember if he even paid his bills ever. There was no happiness because I didn't feel cared for, I wasn't secure. 

Sex makes one happy when there is love involved, especially in a committed relationship. The love is what makes your cheeks glow, its love that releases the happy hormones. It is love that boosts your immunity and helps you sleep better,it is love that keeps couple together and its love that makes sex better....
Sex makes you Happiest... I thought so too, now I know better.....

I wept for Mother Mary....

I adore the goddess in various forms, Ma Durga, Ma Parvati, Laxmi, her reincarnated forms of Radha ( maha Maya) but I simply adore Mother Mary. Reincarnation of a God or Goddess, when born in human form, one is not immune to the laws of the earth. One experiences all sorts of emotions, goes through highs and lows. Life challenges you, your mind begins to question, to search for answers, or else we wouldn't have a Lord Buddha. Keeping this in mind and being a woman I often wonder about Mother Mary...

Since class two I've studied in convents. I was introduced to Christianity from that very young age, to a large extent through my own desire to know more. I found much pathos in the life of Jesus. I was horrified to think the son of God had to suffer so much, he did miracles after miracles for others so why didn't he do one to avoid pain. This question drove me to ask the nuns around me, the father who came to conduct mass, I listened in rapt attention to the stories. yet after my marriage and especially after having my son, going through a divorce, and a lot more in between, my attention turned to mother Mary.

As a child her innocent, young, beautiful face drew me to her. She looked so calm, so sweet, so kind, so full of love holding baby Jesus in her arms. In the worst lows of my life I went running to her and to Ma Durga. I wept at her grotto, pleading with her to understand my pain. i begged her to pray for me, either to give me strength or to make the pain stop. Once the storms were completely around me and I was in the eye, I looked at her statue and thought she must have endured so much.

I marvelled at her strength, I wondered about her pain. i thought if Jesus was born out of immaculate conception, does that mean, she had a "lonely" marital life. Did her husband not love her in a sexual way. I knew the loneliness of a marital bed too well. i know its the worst form of loneliness. I wondered if she too went through it.  I had written this poem during my first marriage....
I know how Mary felt
A Virgin on a marital bed,
babe by her side
wondering how she got there,
a child turned now into motherhood,
is this what marriage is
dulling chores and raising child
where is the passion, the love
where is THE Marital BED???


I wondered at her patience... she was the wife of a carpenter, she obviously was bereft of luxuries, she never complained. She gave birth in a manger, she never complained. She travelled by road during the last stages of her pregnancy, did she look this calm and peaceful then?? Did she face physical discomfort?? She lovingly raised a child, she doted on him, only to see him flogged and crucified in front of her very eyes. My Aunt who lost her son in an accident when he was just 32, never could recover completely from that shock , he was the youngest of four. 2 decades have passed , I've yet to see her return to her vivacious self.

What about Mother Mary. did every lash leave a scar on a mother's heart. Did every drop of blood Jesus shed, become tears of poison in her soul. I howled when a doctor drew blood from my new born babe's sole, the sight of blood on his body was too much for me to bear, how did she not faint, what inner strength , what courage in the mother's heart gave her the power to witness her sweet baby 's torture and then death......

She was the epitome of grace, of strength, of patience, of resilience. Mother Mary is no where submissive yet she accepts the Lords will. She loves her son. She much have yearned to rush to him, soothe his wounds, hush him and tell him it will all be ok. That must have been her maternal instinct. Yet she prayed. She had her faith and it never wavered. She was there lending her support to her dying, young son, by just being there. Taking his physical blows onto her heart. her eyes sending love to him the whole time.

I wonder how many lives would it take for an ordinary woman to get over trauma such a s Mother Mary went through...That day at her grotto I wept like a child, I wept for myself, I wept for Jesus and I wept for her, this beautiful, kind, loving lady, who went through so much. I don't know for how long I cried, but I remember I no longer know which pain caused those tears. i just came home that day some 4 years back, with an understanding, if that young mother could brave it all, so could I. If she could maintain that peaceful, loving, calm countenance so could I. If she could forgive the murderers of her son, so could I forgive those who hurt me inadvertently.

It might sound like blasphemy to some, but that day I did not see Mother Mary as a divine being, I saw her in a human form, her being human gave me strength. She showed me what it means to be a strong woman. One doesn't need a job, fame, feminist ideals, put men down to be strong. Strength is something different. It comes from within. It comes from acceptance and surrender to the almighty and yet facing situations life makes you go through to the best of your abilities. I still derive great comfort staring at her pictures. The more I do, the more I grow to love her.....the more I learn from her, the more i grow....I love her human form, I worship her divine self, for the mother in her....I weep for her....

Lost in the desert....1991

A wonderful thing happened to me last night. I found my stash of short stories and poems I had written when I was around 13 years old till I was around 15 or 16. I know they are no literary works in there. Yet I found them, they showed me a side of my self, those parchments re-introduced me to a younger version of me. The poems are imitation of the styles of great poets I studied yet the emotions are so raw, so honest. My stories are purely day dreams of a teen. Today I want to share one very very short story written in the year 1991.... hope it brings back to you my readers, memories of the years , you first discovered your passion in life and the raw material that made you what you are today....Happy Reading...

Lost in the Desert....

Ram had been wandering in the deserts for days together. No sign of life was to be seen. His sole companion was Joravat, his camel. His supply of water was getting short. He had already run out of food. All he had now was a lump of jaggery. He couldn't give up, for now he could see a railway track. He walked on and on. Soon his water supply and jaggery also finished. He had not eaten for three days. He longed for a long drink of cool and sweet water to quench his thirst. The last drop of water he had tasted had been thirty six hours before.

As the night approached, he stopped Joravat and  lay  down beside him. he covered both of them with a blanket and tried to go to sleep. He dreamt about his home. He saw his wife. Then he saw the terrible fire that had snatched everything from him. He felt the suffocation from the smoke and grew restless. He woke up with a jolt. It was a dust storm. It soon passed. Ram just lay on his back counting the stars. He lay there guessing which star was his wife. He continued to simply lie there. Joravat licked his master's face. He was surprised his master did not move. The sun had risen long back. He did not know his master would never get up again. He sat there faithful, he would wait till the cold hands of death took him to his master again.....

Understanding Karma....via Facebook

Last night I had this strange analogy come to me. Facebook, is a great medium to understand Karma. I did intend to write this just for laughs, however the more I thought about it, the more true I found it.Facebook is apt as example for our real world. We come unsure what to do on facebook. First few days we just read and observe what other's status updates is. We read their walls. Slowly we start posting. We wait for likes. Little realizing how likes and re-posting is totaling karmic balancing. The more likes and re-posts you do, the more you get them too. We start finding friends we know, like souls finding each other in this labyrinth of life. Our friends list grows. A few strangers add us and we warily accept their friendship. Much like a stranger in life. Yet some match our wave lengths and we start developing deeper bonds just like it happens with colleagues who turn into life long friends. Farmville excellently portrays , no matter how much we acquire in life, its all false. Its not ours to possess. As our friends list grows, suddenly others want to be-friend you, much like our celebrities in life. Other people like him, so their must be something in him. Everyone has opinions.Everyone shares them, unabashed.

Coming to Karma, everything that goes out must come back. A comment here or there, a like, a re-post, a sharing of thoughts and emotions, heated arguments... what goes around comes around. We try to post our most happening profile picture. our real self gets revealed regardless over time. Facebook, over time exposes our true self, our real likes and dis-likes. We each manage to make whatever little space in the virtual world, much like we do in the "real world". We build our small world with our friends, some favoured more than others.

Somethings are a lot better on Facebook, we can block or ignore people we don't want in our lives. We don't have to add exes, bosses or parents in our friends list. We can brazenly post our drunk photographs and tag them to friends we know won't judge us. We can play games. We can un-friend people without guilt pangs. Everyone has only one option " like", nay sayers keep their opinions to themselves.Only positive goes out , so only positive comes back, do nothing nothing comes back....... I'm just wondering how this positive karma of facebook can be translated into our real lives

I feel invisible....

A girl in her teens, blossoming, radiant, chirpy, gregarious.... as soon as she reaches home, her phone starts to ring. Her parents are exasperated. You've just met your friends , what do you talk about so much?? Eventual she is given her own land-line, so that the father can make his official calls. Boys throng around her, someone gifts her bouquets, some kababs, some audio cassettes, greeting cards, odd trinkets, show pieces... girls love to hang out with her, she is surrounded by friends and admirers. She gets married. The wooers melt away. The girl friends get married too and settle into their new lives. With jobs, husbands, in-laws and then kids , there is no time to make frivolous phone calls. She tries to make new friends in the new country, its not the same. The level of attention is not the same. After her divorce, she is popular again. Most men hang around in the hope of a fling, after all like one man said " I don't want a free 14" inch with the 36" inch" referring to my son.

I am the youngest in my immediate family. My father a Capricorn, my brother a Leo, my sister a scorpion. All are head strong. My sister being the eldest had her position secure in the family, my brother being the only son had his position marked too. I was the youngest. From both sides of my family, father's and mother's , even in the extended family I was always the youngest. Later as a student of psychology, I would learn how my personality got shaped due to this factor. I turned into a kind of people pleaser. I so desperately wanted to be loved, accepted, I so wanted my own place in the hierarchy. It became very important for me to make an impression. At home, being the youngest often implies , one has to listen to elders , if you argue, you're impertinent, if you answer back, you are rude, cheeky, bullish, God know how many title I earned just because I wanted to be heard. I had opinions too.

I got married. Twice, both times my husband were the eldest in their family. My boy friend was the only son. These men who we secure in their places in the hierarchy did not understand my constant need for approval. I wanted to know what their parents thought of me, their uncles, aunts, friends, colleagues, perhaps even their maid :) Men who lead their teams, have careers,, generally don't care what other's don't think about them,  other's opinion all that much. They are super achievers, A type personalities. I began to understand. It was this self assured-ness in them that drew me to them. Their confidence, their defiance, their devil may care attitude. Here all my life I was trying to gain approval and it never came, the more I tried the further it seemed to slip away. I never seemed to do anything right.

My Aunts all tell me I'm their pet, yes after two marriages all paramours have skipped town, my friends are busy, I left my job to take care of my son and now I'm trying to build our family with my new husband. I feel I lead a pretty fulfilling life. I paint, write, heal, guide, I cook an above all I spread love and hope. yes I feel everything is fine, all has finally fallen in place, yet, sometimes, a tiny part of me, when i go to my classes, meet relatives or go home, that part of me still feels invisible. I sometimes still feel invisible.

There will a lot of you, my readers , who identify. This cloak of invisibility may come due to various factors and in many forms. The point is this cloak is self worn, by you ,me all of us who feel this way. Like a puppy chasing its own tail, we clamor for something that is already our own. We need not look to fit in, to be seen, for validation / recognition of our existence, the Lord has shaped each of his flowers, individually and beautifully. A teacher of mine once wrote, in nature, each flowers grows beautifully, indifferent to applause. Today , as I write this post, my conquest is still work- under -progress. I've conquered a lot bigger problems in life, this is a matter of just changing the looking glass.

The Chosen One

Shiva (Meluha), Harry Porter, Neo (The Matrix), Frodo ( Lord of the Rings),Spiderman.... the one thing that is common with all these characters apart form the fact that they are fictitious and that they are all reluctant heroes, the one thing that runs common through all their stories is that none of them believed they were " the one". They had ordinary lives, were usually not so popular or successful in their daily lives. Apart from the fact that underdogs make great stories, there is something deeper in these stories.

All these people became who they did, because of the people around them who believed. They believed regardless of appearance, how rustic one was how how puny, how unlike the perceived Hero these characters are at the beginning of the story. They are full of self doubt. They don't think they have it them to deliver what is expected from them. Yet these friends, these believers do not waiver. The support, they carry the burden for their friends no matter how many times they are put in the line of fire.

These characters become Heros by the end of the tale because they keep trying. They have noble virtues. They believe in love, in friendship, in doing the right thing, they push their limits not for personal glory but for the very friends who are cheering them from the wayside. They become heroes because they dare to go against society, go against what they perceive as their own weaknesses. The all long for acceptance, love, harmony yet when life challenges their status quo they stand up and do what it takes. Ayn Rand's first book was rejected by 12 publishers , no less. Today her books are one of the most widely sold books across continents. It took a modest, plain looking Abraham Lincoln for united States of America to be what it is today, the largest democracy.

Yet for every Neo, Every Frodo there is a Morpheus , there is a Samwise Gamjee, to help them forward. There is a Chanakya behind Chandra Gupta Maurya. A coach, a guide, a friend or a mother, a wife or a lover, there is always that one pillar of strength that keep you going, who believes in you when you don't. It take two for one to reach glory. The believer  and The chosen One...

We  all want heroes, for our nations, in our personal lives, a lot of us even want to be a hero our self, how many how ever want to become that side aide, that person who is the person behind the success of another. How many of us would rejoice in the fame, popularity, wealth of another, our sacrifices gone unnoticed, no rewards or recognition.

I do know of several women, who do this everyday. They receive no gratitude, no recognition, nothing in return. They watch their lives pass by, no personal dreams or goals, content in the growth of their spouse. No malice, no jealously, no pettiness....my mother is one such woman. I am often lead to ponder which role is tougher, the Hero or the person behind, who is the actual chosen one?

Sharper than thorns.....

Words, Barbs, Jibes, Taunts.... our childhood and perhaps youth is spiked with hurting words. Words can make a world of difference. I had two very lovely, encouraging English teachers in school. It was their gentle encouragement that help me nurture the writing streak in me. We form opinions about our self based largely on the words we hear from our " significant elders" in our lives. " Brains of the family" , " the black sheep", " a bit slow", " totally dumb", these tags distort our self perception for the rest of our lives. These words dig into our minds and souls deeper and sharper than thorns.We grow older and to our horror we find our self mouthing the very phrases that made us cringe as a young individual.

Damage of words are far reaching than just self image. In workshops I take, with my clients, friends and relatives I keep stressing the importance of correcting wording of not only what we speak but how we think. Rhonda Bryne , writer of the bestseller " The Secret" has done us all a huge favor by emphasizing on correct phraseology,even in our thoughts. Louise Hay's book " You can Heal your Life" goes a step further and gives us positive statements to correct even physical ailments, and might I vouch for it.

Let us understand where do these negative thought patterns come from? Its always childhood, down to our time in our mother's wombs!! Yes the ancient sages of India are proved correct yet again ..." Work hard or you'll never get anywhere", " money doesn't come easy, it doesn't grow on trees"...such statements that are repeated over and over to us, popular maxims become diktats, they become like audio recordings in our brain. These messages become so deep rooted in our subconscious mind, we are totally unaware how we allow them to dictate far reaching patterns of our lives, shape our destinies. "Derivatives from sentences lead us to believe we don't " deserve" happiness/ success/fame/ wealth/health whatever else the strongest beliefs that have been poured into your impressionable minds.

We sabotage our lives with phrases like I'll never get a job that pays that well", " No one will love me if I ....", "No one really cares about me, " I'm not beautiful enough" Observe how strongly these words sound as you say it. So strong is the belief that if someone gives a compliment that is contrary to this belief, it slides off like water from oilskin !!!

We pray to the Almighty, ask for miracle, go to temples, churches,mosques, dargah .... ask for the divine , yet we then cancel our very divine personalised orders by doubting, by fearing by believing the opposite , we then wonder why we don't get our prayers answered.

The solution is very simple, so simple that most people can't believe it. They have again been beaten into believing a problem has to have a complicated solution, the harder the better. In fact most people feel let down and feel a sense of deflation even to the extent of thinking if it was that simple a solution then everyone would have done it by now. That's the problem, the doubt before even trying. The expectation for it to be hard and uphill makes it so. Yet I want to say before I hand over the magic pill... the 3 Ps that make this exercise a success Practise, Patience, Persistence....

The answers , the solution is very simple... Think Only Positive...........................check every word even that you may be just thinking. What do you exclaim in despair, in anger, in exasperation, rephrase it ......

You're waiting for me to come to the re-phrasing? I'll give it to you.... very soon. This is an excerpt from my book. Give me your comments and I might share another preview with you...cheerio :)

A Wedding ...and a Funeral....

1991, the first time I went to Jaipur, I had gone to attend my cousin's wedding. A few day's before that my maternal uncle, also residing in Jaipur had passed away....
2011, 20 years later, last week i went to Jaipur to attend a wedding, the groom's father had passed away a couple of months before.

In both cases what amazed me was the strength and resilience of the two matriarchs. In my family most women of the senior generations are home makers. The men take care of fiances, the work out side the home. The two women my Mami ( maternal Aunt) and my Masi( mother's sister) are simple small town women. Their first priority being their husband and children. They are oblivious to a lot of things in the outside world. In fact I was left stammering a few years back when one of my Aunt's had asked me what does " gay" mean :) They have led pretty cocooned lives. They have their principals and values they live by. Both these women have extreme amounts of inner strengths. They have kept up with the changing times. They never clipped the wings of their children. Coming from a strict pure vegetarian to the extent of never consuming garlic or onions, today their children eat non-vegetarian food. Sure , they have to eat it on the stairs of the family, but like my Masi said, I don't want them to lie and do things behind my back. I couldn't help but giggle at the imagery of my cousins stuffing their mouths with tandoori chicken, happy, yet the joy doubled because the pleasure is mixed, it is forbidden food, yet under the watchful eyes of their mother's. ....

My Mami , when she lost her husband had three marriageable aged daughters , her youngest, a son, was still a student of junior college. What amazed me was how these tow ladies faced the tragedy of their lives with such grit and grace. I have never heard them whine, try to get sympathy, they never wept copiously like a lot of other women I've seen weeping over far lesser pains in life. Both these women, showed respect to their husbands, they never stopped smiling. They executed the plans made by their husband's in a way as to best honor their memories. I found these two ladies least judgemental. My Masi blinked back her tears as she said, I will just smile and finish all the ceremonies of the wedding.That's dignity....

I was so proud to be the niece of both these Aunts of mine. Life is yin and yang. Where there is happiness, there is sorrow. The greatest of teachers of all religions and cults try to teach us to be detached, to become indifferent to pleasures and pains of life. I've have experienced it first hand and I have seen these two women of simple faith. They are no religious fanatics, they don't shout their beliefs from rooftops, they don't force their views on any one. They have not only understood, they are living proof of what even saints took years to achieve. They did not become immune to either pleasure or pain, they just learnt to take both as they come, with a lot of grace. They continued to live. They made peace with themselves. They went out of their way to ensure the happiness of their children does not get eclipsed because of their personal loss. They know , even if they haven't articulated it, children are the future, it  ( their future)must not be burdened with the baggage's of the past. Both dressed up nicely, smiled through ceremonies, genuine smiles. Gave blessings from their hearts. Another thing I noticed, both have the least ailments in my family. They don't resist changes, they love freely, forgive easily, they plan, they execute , hence there is no disharmony in their body. I've learnt a lot in these two episodes from two of my dearest Aunts, life is a full circle. Life is black and white and all shades in between. I understood only happiness can never be achieved. It is complimented and enhanced through sorrow. I understood grace in real life. Maybe I should rename this post...Grace under fire....

Journeys and Dreams... the real and the imaginary....

Every time I embark on a journey, it could be a weekender, a vacation, a trip, I'm lost in dreams..... The initial excitement starts from the day of tentatively planning, it goes a notch up when the plans start to take shape, buying tickets, booking hotels. Depending on the tenure my mental check lists for packing starts. Usually I'm a light traveller, that goes for a toss when I'm travelling with my son. When its a new country I try to lay hands on maps, read up on google about the place. The thing that excites me most about travelling, is not so much the place, as the very life it holds. The cuisine, the textiles, the jewellery, the language. I love taking pictures. I love going to the old portions of the cities and towns to get a feel, to listen to the heart beat. My dreams take flight, as soon as I'm boarded onto my train or aircraft. I wonder who I'll meet, will I fall in love? with the place, with the food, with the people there...will I make friends, will the romance of my life happen here? AS it happens my favorite read on any journey is a good , racy Mills & Boons :)

There is just some unknown promise a journey holds during transit, during the commute, during the whole journey. A promise of an untold story. A promise of an unknown dream coming true.... a dream takes over and becomes a filter over my eyes, its like wearing pink goggles . Everything is exciting, everything is a part of the adventure that I read in famous fives. I just become the protagonist of my tale for those few hours or days. Daily life leaves us very little time to day dream, to fantasise, to take center stage. Life becomes all about getting things done. On trips I try not to have any fixed agenda. I make sure there is one highlight for the day. I remember this trip I took to my childhood places. One day the highlight for  a trek, the other night it was a bonfire in the middle of a wildlife sanctuary in the middle of the Himalayas, one morning it was waking up before the crack of dawn, shivering through layers and layers of clothes to witness the miracle of watching the sunrise across 180 degrees of the Himalayan range. i was speechless. I witnessed God splash his colors of joy across the sky, reflected them off pure white huge mountains, bounced off the light on the opposite mountain...It was beautiful. beautiful as a word doesn't come close. I had tears in my eyes as I witnessed such untainted beauty. 

The highlight of my trip to Kerela ( though it was on work) was the ride in the motor boat in the back waters. Suddenly when the boat was stopped, there was silence all around. I experienced something similar yet so vastly different in the Mediterranean ocean, I was in Spain. We stopped the paddle boat in the middle ( so it seemed to me) I couldn't see the shore, I couldn't see the sky line. There was only water. There was no wind in that moment, no birds, nothing.....bright blue waters all around....

The Leo in me love drama, it loves romance, journeys make it happen, always.... regardless of incident or not. It happens in my mind, in my heart and my soul expands from the experience.... 

on Public Opinions and Strength of Conviction

I can write a lot on how weak characters get swayed by public opinion. There are many angles from which I can deal with this topic, working in the television industry I've seen stories being changed, new tracks being introduced, beautiful stories been hacked mercilessly to conform . Today, however I want to tell a story. A story that is a classic, its been read by millions across the globe.

As is the case with me, I don't read the story as it is, I read between lines, I read the subtext, I reach my conclusions and form opinions.i  go with the flow, i don't take a negative character on face value. The story I'm writing is one of my all time favorites " Gone With the Wind" for people who have not yet read this beautiful novel I recommend that you do, but for the time being here is a link to a brief narrative of the basic plot: 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gone_with_the_Wind#Plot_summary


Scarlett O'Hara on surface reading appears to be an impulsive, shortsighted, selfish young girl, too hot headed for her own good. From my point of view, she is all of the above except the selfish part. Scarlett believed in one thing, one thing only... Tara. Tara was the plantation owned by her father. His blood and sweat had built it up. Scarlett would go to any lengths to preserve this piece of land. The other thing Scarlett believed in, was her love for Ashley. These two things that Scarlett believed in dictated her every move, they changed the direction of her life several times, the public opinion about her was always negative. Her neighbours, her sisters, the men in her life, her extended family, nobody understood her, they judged her. She had this childlike innocence that believed ,the end justifies the means. Scarlett didn't bat an eye lid to get married to a man she didn't love, who was her sister's fiance', she knew she would get the required money to save Tara. it was as simple as that for her. Scarlett never could live on Tara post her marriage, that didn't stop her. Had her sister got married to that man, would she have sacrificed as much as Scarlett did to save Tara?

Scarlett became tough when required. She did not sit down weeping and wallowing in her misfortune, she did what ever it took to get back on her feet, bring Tara back on its feet. She hid the wallet in Melanie's baby's diaper to protect it from Yankees, she shot a man and buried him, she nursed her sister's back to health, she took care of her father, mammy , her other servants, she took on the mantle, the role destiny had decided for her. Yes she was not too diplomatic about her ways, she didn't plead and cajole people, she took life by its horn and was undefeated till the very end .

Once she was married, her husband describes her sweet gestures of warming his slippers and taking care of his medication. She took care of people in her own way. She gave Ashely a job, it enabled him to sustain his family. She cared for Melanie through her child birth. After Melanie's death she prevented Ashley from harming himself, whatever her reasoning, Scarlett did things her convictions lay in. She did not care what other's thought of her. She was full of life, courage and an immense inner strength. She defied what the societies diktats were, she was probably the first " woman of today".

I read Gone With the Wind for the first time when I was in school. I re -read it several times over the years, every time life challenged to throw me into an abyss of darkness and helplessness. I fought, I learnt from Scarlett, not to care about shallow people, their opinions. I learnt to lead my life on my own terms. Public opinion is just that, opinion of people who actually have nothing to do with your personal life. Who is society and where is this society that throws brickbats at you when you dare to be different. Why should I care about what some fictitious character is supposed to have done and now I have to follow his standards? Why should I care about people who judge from their narrow point of views? I too took life by its horns. I learnt, grew, made mistakes, fell down, got up and ran again, just like God intended.

All I know when one strongly believe in something, has the strength of conviction ,in anything, his art, his writing, his opinion, his life style, no public opinion can make him cower. You can be killed, burnt at stake, boycotted , your views can be thrashed, yet there will be, maybe a fistful of people, people who look deeper, people who have a wiser understanding, people who may remain silent, but  who will believe, who will understand. As many people as there are in the world, those many opinions exist, blindly following what has been fed through centuries, never questioning how bad someone who had been declared bad. Is the villain really wrong? is the hero that virtuous? it just shows lack of belief in your own analytical powers. people who follow can never be leaders. People need numbers when they have no personal convictions.

Today I wanted to write about Scarlett O'Hara, about Gone With the Wind, I guess I haven't done justice to it, but thank you Margret Mitchel for the heroine you've given us. I will try again, another day.... for tomorrow is another day... as for public opinions.... need I quote Rhett Butler yet again???

I wish Raavan was My Brother......

Swaroopnakha ( beautiful features), the sister of Raavan, as her name suggests was very beautiful. Once when Ram , Laxman and Sita were in exile, she sighted the two very handsome brothers. She approached Ram and expressed her desire to copulate with him. This was not a strange occurrence. Our society was far more open minded and liberal in context of natural desires than most of our political leaders would like us to believe. Women , Apsaras, across the various Ganas had the liberty ( when unmarried) to approach men they desired. This also lead to polygamy in a lot of cases, not only that marriages was not only of one kind. Marriage could also be for s few months, with or without witnesses. In this context Swaroopnakha did not do anything which was morally incorrect or unacceptable. Ram declined here saying he was there with his wife, however sent her to Laxman. The question here again is if it was so wrong on her part as to imply " she was asking for it" why did Ram not chide her or give her a strict no, why did he send her to his younger brother? Laxman not only humiliated this young girl, he cut off her ears and nose ( features that are considered signs of beauty of a woman) it also implies by a colloquial phrase in India " nak kat gayi" that implies further violation.
Swaroopnakha goes crying to her older brother Raavan. He is infuriated by her condition, he is angry at her humiliation. I ask this which brother wouldn't be?

Once when I was a fresher in college, I don't even remember the incident, it was that trivial, all I remember is my brother getting upset when he kind of figured out somebody was trying to intimidate me. I remember him telling me, don't be afraid, just tell me, I'll go break their house, set their shop on fire. It did not come down to any of it at all.  In fact it came to nothing. However it made me happy, I had an older brother willing to protect me, to fight on my behalf.There have been times later in my life, my adult life, I wished my brother was around, I prayed someone would stand up on my behalf and tick off the people hurting me. People who thought I had no one. I know women who have suffered molestations, violations, rape, abuse but have not dared come forward. Their brothers turned against them for bringing shame on the family, even though the girls were the victims. As a therapist I hear sad stories of such kind. Swaroopnakha was empowered in the knowledge her brother wouldn't blame her. He was on her side.

Raavan goes to the forest looking for the two men who violated his younger sister and to the extent of deforming her forever!!!!! when he reaches Sita is alone. Raavan knew his anger was towards the two men, could he not have retaliated then and there? He too could have violated, deformed or worse to Sita, HE DID NOT.... he abducted her. He kept her in a beautiful garden, she was denied nothing, She had personal guards to protect her 24 hours. Sita was in Raavan's imprisonment for several months. Ravaan never tried to force himself on Sita....

Raavan was a big Shiv bhakt, he worshipped Shiv so steadfastly, he pleased Lord Shiva and gained boons from him. He is supposed to have 10 heads indicating he had the wisdom and knowledge of ten ordinary people. He single handedly turned his kingdom into " Sone ki Lanka" Lanka of gold. His people were happy under him. What was his failing? A timid younger brother, who was jealous of his power, his fame, his throne and crown. This sibling sold out Raavan to the enemies. He double crossed him.As Raavan lay dying Ram took lessons from him on how to run a kingdom....

As a woman, as a sister I do not see anything wrong with Raavan. I would love to be Raavan's sister. He would protect me, punish the people who dared to harm me, he was powerful, he was wise, he worshipped the Lord, He was a good king. As a brother, he did not fail his sister. He was the older brother to the hilt. Any man who dares to violate, humiliate or disfigure his sister deserve to be punished. Every brother across the globe is protective of his  sisters. He takes it upon himself to take care of her. In India we have a festival where sisters tie a band on the wrist of their brothers' reminding them to protect them always.Unlike Ram who cast out his wife because "people" were unsure of her chastity, Ravaan did not discard his sister. Not once did he blame her or shame her.  It is no wonder in parts of South India, ,Sri Lanka, Sumaitra, Java , perhaps more places, Raavan is worshipped. From where I see this story Raavan was justified, Sita was the victim of first circumstances then of Ram. I don't know if Ram was ever the ideal man or husband, but Raavan sure was an Ideal brother....

to my readers.....

Today my friend of nearly 20 years, called me up to tell me he admires my post " scars of a different kind", he's seen me grow up practically in front of his eyes. He's well aware of the incidents I'm now writing about. He was happy I was no longer afraid of back lashes and it felt good someone out there realized, it took a lot of courage for me to write especially this particular piece. He wanted me to write about the feed backs I'm getting.

What can I say, I'm just humbled. I don't yet have too many followers, or too many comments after my blogs. The stats however, seem to be gradually increasing. " I'm not Sita, thank God" seems to have garnered the most interest. Yet I do get a lot of verbal feed backs. My ex husband sweetly called up to tell me, he was happy I was writing again. So did my mother in law. She called my writing candid. Another friend called up to say my writing has beautiful narrative and is very touching emotionally. My cousin texted me to congratulate me , he found my writing well articulated , he found my writing deep and multi dimensional. I do look forward to more comments on my posts.....

I am trying to reach out to as many people as I can, to share with them not only my journey or spicy tidbits from my adventurous life, but also my take aways, my process of spiritual awakening. I'm hoping someone who feels misunderstood, will find he's not alone, I hope to reach out to a broken heart and reassure him all is not lost, I hope to renew the faith of someone on the verge of giving up his dreams and show him, its never too late. Above all , I wish to share the beauty of God, his miracles in my life, the lovely people he sent into my life, who have only enriched my life. My blog is a way to reach out to all of them, all of you, with a big thank you and I love you.....

On Passion.... and dreams

I have oft times gone to watch my husband at work.He, being a born director, is a joy to watch at work, I Can only attempt to write about,its a joy to see him work. The last couple of times I went to visit him on an outdoor location, he was directing episodes of a mythology based television show. I've seen many facets of my husband, he was my boss in a corporate firm, I've seen him at work at his drawing book and large canvasses, yet the only time I've truly seen him alive is when he's directing. His body language changes, his eyes twinkle, he furrows his eye brows in deep concentration, the energy in the people around him changes. I look at him and I'm amazed, I feel the world is a good place to be. His energy is contagious.It was this time when I realised what it was, his hard work, endless hours of work, his total dedication comes from one place.... this is his passion. He loves doing this.

Passion is a strange word, it can't truly be explained unless you've experienced it. It is so intrinsically woven together with your dreams. I knew another man a long time ago, he was completely passionate when it came to love, to his relationship but a complete laid back person where it came to his career. One of my very close friend run this organisation for children who have run away from home. She is totally passionate about her NGO, I asked her how she does it, she is a young mom of a beautiful young boy, she is a full time wife and daughter-in-law, yet she gets up every morning and rushes to work. Some days I find it difficult to even get up from my bed I told her. My ex mother-in-law is one of the most dynamic people I've met and I always wondered from where does she get so many hours in a day to do as much as she does... Suddenly one of my clients asked me, how I do it, I was taken aback me? She was so genuine and she asked me how i managed to be a full time mother, take therapy sessions, attend my classes, paint, write, keep in touch with all my friends, go on dates ( I was not remarried then )... I was stunned!! I had not realised I too have certain passions in life. When I paint or read or write stories I never feel exhausted, I never realise where the hours have flown. 

Dreams and passions are not mere interests, they drive you, its something you're born with. you feel incomplete when you're not pursuing it. I've mellowed down, my relationships drained me, I no longer do theatre, I no longer write for newspapers, and i want to dream again, let the horses in me awaken and start running again. Did you know when God created horses, he did not give them a reason to run, horses just feel like running and so they do. It gives them an inner joy, a sense of freedom, they know it from inside, this is what they were born to do.... they just run.....

Somewhere down the line I lost sight of my dreams, I let the fires of my passion die down. It left me empty, it left me bereft of energy.All lot of "practical" demands of daily life makes one pull away from the thing they love doing the most. One needs to put food on the table, keep his family happy, sometimes other harsh realities of life make you question your own priorities and dreams. Family especially has a knack of disdainfully putting dreams down, get real, is the sentence you'll hear once too often. You may be torn from inside , " what should you do? what is the right thing to do? " money, family, responsibilities are like mites they slowly nibble away at the core of your dream , your passion.



No matter what people think, say or do, no matter how impossible your dream may seem, keep it alive, believe in it. I watched Rockstar this weekend, it reminded me how I was in my college days, I believed I could conquer the world. I had so much faith in myself in my abilities. this movie reminded me of that fire in my belly I turned away from in order to conform.

I've started to try and re locate my passion, I know this fire never dies out, I know i might have to reacquaint myself with it, but what ever it is, it will come to me easily, effortlessly, naturally, because this is what I'm meant to do.... I'm reminded of a choir song from school.... this little guiding light of mine, I'm  going to let it shine....

Today I want everyone who has this passion, a dream they totally believe in, follow it, and for the nay sayers... here's a classic line...." frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!!!" ( from Gone with the wind)

Scars of a different Kind.....

A child born in the virgin mountains. The only people in her world , her mother, her best friend ( man servant) she lovingly called Noni. On the periphery was her father and her siblings who came home from time to time from the hostel they were studying in. She was a wild flower, left much to her own devices. Suddenly one day when she was about 7 years old, she finds herself too in the boarding school. Her days of talking to the telephone operators for hours, lording it over the many servants her parents were privileged to have, her adoring mother's supervision of her studies and rest of the hours spent in day dreaming were rudely halted by the strict routine life of a boarding school. She had to eat dinner at 6 which she never had, her study hours went by dreaming up stories of characters from Enid Blyton she had recently started reading. No more personal attention or supervision. She was bored in class where teachers kept repeating things over and over again. Her final report card came, she was so ashamed, from being the topper till then, suddenly she was one of the weakest students in class. She had not failed by in the ranking system she was maybe in the last ten of a fairly large classroom.

She was happy she was going home. She would again be in the sunshine of her mother's love. She would again talk to the telephone operator that would connect her to her father, whose office was just downstairs. She would eat and sleep at normal time. Her journey got over fast enough waiting for those happy moments again....

She was standing in front of her father. Two strangers from his work place were there, her mother somewhere in the background. She had just handed over her report card. There had not yet been the warm reunion, the hug and swirling in the air she was anticipating. She had seen her father lose his temper with others before. She had been scared of him and hated it when he tried to make her learn tables, with sarcastic, caustic comments on her absent mindedness. She usually had her mother rescue her after an hour or so of learning by rote. Today she knew she would be scolded. Suddenly she heard her father say "and next time you're not in the top five I will tell everybody, you are NOT MY DAUGHTER, you're the daughter of my servant who I'm bringing up"......... He said a lot more, but she heard nothing more, i don't think she cried that day, and I don't know any other day of her life, when these words have not made her cry inwardly since then. ....

Bricks and stones may break my bones, but your words cannot hurt me.... but they can, they do, a small sentence long forgotten by the person who said them, by the people around.... I remember them, everyday. Every time I feel I've failed in life, every time I make human errors. This sentence lashes across my soul and I scream.... No one can hear those screams of pain unseen, the wounds are not on the body so no balm Can be applied, The scars are not physicals, so no one even knows, the anguish is so deep .....What made this wound deeper was the reply to this sentence my Ego had shot back and my brain had stamped for posterity.... " then I do not want to come first, I do not want your love or to be your daughter if your love changes according to my marks on my report card"  Every time I'm just about to succeed an inner rage fills me and like that day, I turn away from success and walk away, I do not want you. I do not want love that comes with conditions . Love and success have become diametrically opposite in my head.

As a student and now teacher of metaphysics, you learn to take responsibility of everything that happens to you. You realise the choice is always yours on how you respond to a situation. That little girl's anger was so much and lived with me for most part of my adulthood. its only now that I'm daring to write about one of the most profound and painful incidents of my childhood. I lived with that sense of rejection for years. The choice I made a few years back was to embrace success in my personal and professional life. I chose to let go. There are times when old patterns come back to haunt you, this is one ghost of my past I'm willing to face

It took me more than 48 hours to bring myself to write this piece. I logged on and off countless times. I was scared of repercussions from my father, if he read this, I was afraid people who read this would not understand why a simple reprisal every child receives became such a huge issue in my life. It did. It corroded my soul, my life, my self esteem over the years. I got into relationships with men who made me feel small, rejected me over the years. Gave up moments before hitting the jackpot in my career so many times I've lost count. My book lies complete with me, unpublished not one, not two there are three books ready I dare not take them to a publisher.  Scars of childhood on the body may heal over the years, the ones on the heart seldom heal.

I no longer blame, this is not written to justify any of the choices I make in life. This piece I write to share demons large and small that can be conquered, that can be tamed. The life is yours, the choices are yours, the only approval that matter's is your own....

Not my God!!!

Since my blog is all about the big and small incidents in my life that awakened my Spiritual awareness, this incident was very important , it was my first step in understanding my relationship with God.

Most Hindu's will be aware of the "Satya Narayan Katha", this narrative about the devotee of Lord Satya Narayan is heard every full moon, usually accompanied with rituals. In my home every full moon, holiday or not I was dragged out of bed, to listen to this story from an audio cassette along with my parents. For years in my half asleep state I heard but not listened to the audio tape. However one morning I was actually paying attention. The more I listened the more upset I got. Here i was supposed to be listening to something a kin to a sermon, hear the glories of a God, yet all I heard was how people died, lost their fortunes, their children, their kingdom all because they either forgot to or arrogantly refused to take the "prasad" holy offering to the Lord.

My young mind got confused. But what about the God? Where was he in the narrative. What did he do? If he's God he couldn't be petty and egoistic that he gets upset and throws a tantrum every time a devotee misses out on consuming the offering made to him (Lord Satya Narayan)... I was completely baffled my the end of the tape . I had not heard one good thing about the God. All I heard was the fear of him being struck into people " consume or else, worship or else, make an offering or else", No way could a God, any form of God , in any manner of understanding be this. I told my parents I did not want to participate in this full moon prayer service anymore. I mother got extremely upset. I have been very devotional since a young age, my father however patiently asked me why and I explained as best as I could....I said..

" This is not my God, he is not small and petty like human being, my God does not get angry like people over small matters and hold grudges, then he is no God at all!!! My God is all loving, kind, forgiving, he loves you no matter how you are. I worship him who shows me the way not one who teaches me to make others afraid, who is conceited enough to destroy the whole family just because one did not eat the offering made to him. Even if he was to show you the path, it would be loving, not in an intimidating or threatening manner"

Since then i was never compelled to listen to those tales. I would join towards the end for the hymns and happily dig into the tasty offerings sweet and savory...

I was not a student of meta physics then, I had not yet started my studies of various religions. Yet how true that moment of clarity was. God, our original creator who is only pure form of love, I chose to worship the formless super conscious, the energy called love . I today believe in all religions equally, I love all festivals equally. I visit churches, dargahs, temples and even Mosques when ever I can. Today I've written a book on Meta physics, that journey started with this simple sentence.... "This is not my God!!!"

To Dadu...with love....

I've never known my grandparents. They passed away either before I was born, and one when I was very young. This happen when you're the youngest child of one of the youngest of a large pack. I always felt a void. I so wanted to experience the love of a grandparent. I was envious of my friends who had a granny. The granny would pamper them, slip them the extra buck and even scold the parents for being so harsh with the children. They had someone to run to and complain about parents, above all they had someone who loved them unconditionally and thought they were the best no matter what. I felt a big void in my life...

1999 August, I had just come to Mumbai, the city of my dreams. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face. I was studying advertising in St. Xavier's and already dating a classmate. I remember it was janamashtami ( the birthday of Lord Krishna) Since I share my birthday with Lord Krishna, I always found this festival very personal and special. My "boy friend" took me home. It was very sweet as we had just met, but he knew I didn't want to be alone on a festival. I dressed up in a Saree. Dadu came out. She was a beautiful, very dynamic woman. She had been the wife of a freedom fighter and after his demise raised her son and his daughter from his first marriage single handedly. She loved dressing up and never left the house without her make up.

meeting Dadu was like a reunion of souls. She looked at my wrist, I was not donning bangles so she went to her room, returned with a thick bangle ( kada) her son had recently gifted her and put it on my wrist. She hugged me and said " don't worry, you will marry ( my grandson), you will be my bahu ( daughter-in-law)" i was taken aback. my boy friend had not proposed to me, yet that is what happened. I got married to her grandson. 

One day she came up to me and asked, what was the nick name he had given me, I told her , well he calls me "baby", she smiled and said fine so I'll call you "baby" too....

My favorite memory of her is, one day my mother -in- law had to leave early for work, so she asked me to cook that day, prepare the lunch, I was glad to. A few hours before lunch time I went into the kitchen  to only see everything was cooked and ready, Dadu came in and held my hand and said " my baby will not cook". I felt so pampered, so loved that day. I knew I finally had my granny I had waited for since my childhood.

Dadu passed away a few years ago, thankfully not their to see her favorite grandson and my divorce. Till the very end she wore her beautiful sarees, her lipstick and read her novels. I missed her so much. This Diwali she came home to me. I desperately wanted a picture of hers , and this year my son came back from his grandparents house carrying her photograph for me.... i know she's up there watching me, loving me and I will always be her " baby"....I love you dadu.... rest in peace

Arabian Nights..

Today the memories traveled further than I expected. I landed in the year 1992, I was in class 9. I have some very fond memories of those years from grade 8- 10. I was coming into my own. my personality was taking shape. I was well liked, I was accepted as a good writer and poetess. I had huge amount of friends, I took part in elocution's, debates, drama, I was teaching poor children under the literacy programme run by my Alma mat re.

The memory that came up today is very significant. Certain occurrences in that age leave a stamp on you for life, they make you or break you, as an American saying goes you can take a girl out of high school, you can't take her high school out of her..... 

1992, our sports day was over. Now we were all worked up about the farewell party we had to plan for our seniors before they left for the board exams prep holidays. Now for us youngsters this was a very grave matter. We had discussed animatedly amongst ourselves and all three sections of grade 9th  had loved my suggestion on the theme.... Arabian Nights... they all loved my suggestion and as i remember it was pretty unanimous where agreement on the theme was concerned. our imaginations went on the over drive, what food, what decorations, what costumes we talked nineteen to a dozen.

A dampener happened when as in all convents , we need teachers to approve and guide us on any endeavour.  There were 7-8 teacher lined up in front of us. Some of those teachers we were mortified of. Some of us would actually start stammering in front of a couple of them, who were now sitting in front of us. One teacher, let me not take names, got up and addressed us all. She said the teacher agreed the Arabian Nights was a lovely concept ,but the teachers agree that there was no need, to go with this theme. She went on, we, the students had already got bouquets of paper flowers prepared for our sports day, it would be a shame to waste all of them. She went on to tell us the theme we would go with was a garden of flowers...

There was stunned silence. These were our seniors, we wanted to impress them, wanted to fare them well with a big bang. This was our equivalent of the prom night minus boys. I got up with a mild protest and told the teacher that we all wanted to go with the Arabian Nights theme, after a few sulking back and forth , the teachers we all dreaded started getting upset. One of them got up and said, if you want to go with the Arabian Nights, know this , the teachers will in no way help with the execution, planning or have anything to do with it. Again silence ( this silence is a big deal when you're talking of about a hundred 14 year old girls) She continued after a dramatic pause, if you still feel you'd like to go ahead with the theme, then stand up. I stood up.....

I stood up and faced all of them. I did not look around to see who else had stood up, the smirk on the teacher's faces told me, I was alone. I continued to stand, there was no murmurings, no whispering, no shuffling, Just silence.... I must have stood like that for about 5-10 minutes, it difficult to gauge time accurately in moments like this, suddenly I saw the expressions of my teachers changing, from  my peripheral vision I could see a few girls from the other section getting up, you will not believe it but in the next few minutes all the girls were standing. The teachers were shocked. Girls don't do such things. we are supposed to be afraid of those teachers. we are supposed to bow to their ideas, revere them, accept they know more, they know better, yet we all stood, without giggling, without talking, we just all stood. There was nothing more to say. The teachers walked out.

I did not do much else, there were team leaders for pretty much every aspect. Being the "poetess" I was asked to write four lines for the invitation card, that was about it. Needless to say Arabian Nights was a huge success. we all walked proud and happy and our seniors were thrilled.

I learnt a great deal that day. Dare I say I grew up that day. I understood, when you're in the right, nothing can make you afraid, your heart doesn't thump wildly, you don't look around for support, you don't doubt your action. you stand tall, silently....In  Moments of far deeper implications, than this trivial incident that I expect most of the girls present there would have forgotten years back, Over the next 2 decades, moments of decision that would alter my life for ever,  I test my insides by these parameters.Parameter that got me clarity at that young age. Parameters that I knew come from the courage of conviction. I use these parameters even now and then  I know ,if what I'm doing is what I really believe in.... I know what inner strength means. I know when I'm right I need not seek support it will come to me....

aahhhh yes about those paper flowers, as per my suggestion, we used them to decorate the staff room... what can I say I've always been cheeky

The Divine Sabatical

I remember begging God, don't do this to me, don't make me leave my country.Don't uproot me.....      This was the year 2001. I was getting married and had to shift to Germany. I was so scared. I did not like the major changes happening. New country, a language I couldn't read, write or speak so it essentially meant I was illiterate, deaf and dumb.

I landed in Germany in December 2001, it was cold and snowing, and although it was beautiful and picturesque the rude shock on reaching there was the realisation my new husband had forgotten his house keys back in Mumbai. I was dressed inadequately for the severe winters and the gloom became even more. This was no buzzing city, weil am Rhein is a quaint place best described as an outskirt of a village. It was on the borders of Basel ( Switzerland), France and the Black Forest in Germany. No Germans lived in this village, only immigrants from Russia, Turkey, Pakistan, Afghanistan, there was a refugee camp five minutes from my house there. The silence was unimaginable to any one from noisy India. At four o clock in the afternoon, it would start getting dark. My husband had to join work immediately though his leave was not over because he had forgotten to keep money aside for our first month there.

It was beautiful a place, yes a beautiful prison where I was concerned where I was serving solitary confinement. 

Now I am a very social person. I love being in the company of people and I make friends very easily. it was a handicap though that none of the residents there were keen to make friends and we did not have a common language to communicate in. Since I was a dependant on the visa, working was out of question. What made all of this worse was my husband was in marketing so he was was away for weeks at a stretch.

Here is why I'm writing about this experience today. Forced Rest... why does universe bring your life to a sudden grinding halt . Everything that you knew, what you were used to is taken away, all familiarity is gone. This can happen in various ways. For my current husband's brother, it happened due to an accident, that forced him to be still , completely still on a bed for one whole year. Can you imagine being confined to a bed, unable to even rotate your head, leave alone do even the basics for your self. The confidence he must have had , being a body builder and boxer must have been unimaginable horror to him.  For me the prison was in the head. For him he was literally confined to the bed.

I tried my best to fit in, make my life there, invited his colleagues over to our home, planned picnic. For three years I tried to make my life " normal" or as I knew it. I fought with God. I kept asking why. This why tormented me. I wanted to know what he wanted me to learn from this experience. I got my answers several years later.

I realise now , that time God was ploughing the lands of my mind, my soul, he was planting the seeds of my spiritual awareness. This process was not visible to me, in fact it was painful even. Yet since the first year there was no television, and even after we got a set, the only English channel available was CNN, I got back into my habit of reading. I learnt tarot, I read about the concentration camp. I realised the burden of guilt the generations are carrying till now. I spent hours reading, every night as I couldn't sleep I was on the Internet. I was studying criminal minds, I was studying human anatomy, I was studying various religions, I read a lot of fiction. When I got pregnant I read book ordered from Amazon on baby food, raising children, games to play with children.All the while I was experimenting with cooking and with new recipes. When this wasn't enough to keep my restless mind occupied, I started going within. Within my self. A lot of understanding was beginning to be channeled to me, I wrote a lot in my diary.I was gradually making peace. I actually fell in love with the friends I made there, I feel in love with the serenity of that place. I discovered new cuisines, I travelled a lot all over Europe. All this was just the plantation phase......

I have realised Forced rest as per the divine plan is not a punishment. The more you fight it , the more you delay your own learning. This forced rest is God's or the universe's way of making you stop, take a breather form this hectic life, where you 're busy chasing shadows in the name of career, fame, money, love, once you pause, you get to see a larger picture. it does not mean over night understanding or enlightenment occurs , no, but it sets you on a path to self discovery, self discovery is one of the ways you reach God too. God is in you, you are in him/her, you are a part of the original creator and you are a part of the divine. This self discovery is a very essential part of growing. A seed cannot be seen till the shoots come out, that does not mean, there is no growth. The bamboo plant grows under the ground for several years before the plant is visible.

All I've realized and want to share is, if you find yourself in a position, where you feel stagnant either physically, mentally or emotionally, stop fighting it. Take a deep breath, allow it to happen. treat it like a vacation, let the seeds be sown.....