The test

Every now and then

A test comes my way
By way of
Difficult…chaotic situations
Challenges & roadblocks

My first response usually is
Panic…anger…grief
I feel life is trying to
Test my patience
My perseverance, my dedication
Haven’t you found enough evidence of that already?
A yell out a rhetorical question and move on

I push myself
To overcome the initial angst
And overcome I do.
My perseverance and dedication triumph
I realize that I succeed the test of resolve
What I don’t realize is
I fail the test of trust

For I take a few more steps on my journey
Turn around the corner
And find…
Help, resolution…peace
All it takes is a few more steps to find
Help, resolution…peace!
And yet I panic each time

It’s only after many such tests that I understand
That each time I have expressed
Panic…anger…grief
I have let you down…dear Life!
And yet
Each time you’ve sent me
Help, resolution…peace
You have never let ME down!

And I must remember
The next time you throw a test my way
That you are not really trying to test
My patience or perseverance
For you know I have learnt that lesson already
What you are really trying to teach me is
TRUST and faith in YOU

That Light

That light…
Sitting in a lamp
Inside the temple across the road

What does it say to you?

It does not say anything
It is just there
Everyday...It is there!

Differentiating between the event & the outcome

I heard about the first sport's event that my 3 year old niece participated in, recently. I was curious to know her reactions and feelings post the event. I was told that she actually did not connect the prize she won to the race! She thought she's getting a gift!

I instinctively smiled as I read that, then paused and reflected. There was a lesson there in what she did, for me.

As I look at things as an adult - an 'event' and its 'outcome' are inseparable in my mind. We are taught as children through the method of reward and punishment to repeat good behaviour and keep away from naughty deeds. The act getting linked to the reward probably sets in a cycle in motion. As we grow older we learn to predict the pay-offs associated with events, and our focus of attention is divided as much on the effort to make the event possible as it is on the pay-off, if not more. Focusing on the pay-off in turn breeds a sense of competition, a feeling of expectation and a preoccupation with the 'self'.

Breaking out of the expectation of a pay-off is a truly liberating experience. It is probably what an artist or a sportsman would feel, lost in the depths of his performance or game where the outside world and its rules cease to matter. The thought in itself exudes beauty, the feeling worth striving for!

In my effort to strive for this feeling of bliss and unlearn some of the behaviour that comes in the way, I will remember this - there are no prizes, just gifts and gifts can come my way any time and in any shape! Enjoying an experience is in itself the gift.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On a related note - while writing this post I pondered over the word 'adulterate' - To make impure by adding extraneous, improper, or inferior ingredients. It reminded me about how we as grown-ups sometimes impose our world view on children and in doing so sometimes 'adult-erate' their thinking.

One

Where do I begin
To separate what is yours
And what is mine

The breath and beat
that keep me alive
do i call them yours
or mine?

The thoughts, feelings
could i create them
without you?
Then those are not
solely mine too

Like lovers
Parted - in time
Each day, each minute
Each life that goes by
Without you
Is a burden
My soul bears

If You and I
Are destined
To be one - in time
Then what should I call yours?
And what should I call mine?

----------------------------------------------------------

P. S - This thought has evolved in time. Part 1 - Relinquish, Part 2 - The sun and his twin

Life is a voyage that is homeward bound

Living away from one's country of birth can be the fulfilment of a childhood dream, the end of a quest for a better life, a compulsion, and sometimes a decisions that you spend your life trying to reverse. For me it has meant many things...it was definitely not the realization of any dream. While growing up I never harboured the secret desire to 'go west'. It started off as being just a transition into a post married life. I did not like the experience of living in cold places, being away from friends and family, without a job, of not having the comfort of familiar sights and smells. Not then...and not now though its been six years. Fortunately, I have not been in a situation where i've had to dig my heels deep into a place. Through the last six years, on many occasions I have travelled back to India and lived there. Such transitions put you in a 'constant comparison mode' - while you are in one place you are longing for life in another and vice-versa. But these moments of transition also give you a chance to reflect on what is it that really matters to you, what do you value, how do you want to live your life and more importantly where?

There are pros and cons to every decision. I have often heard people say - that outside india - the systems work & the air is clean and there is no filth on the streets and no potholes on the road and the standard of living is higher and there is respect for personal time and space and people don't cheat you and everybody is so literate and polite and courteous and its ok to see on celluloid - shahrukh khan go to the village & try to create electricity but ground realities in india are different!

My point is - yes - if you buy what you just told me and are happy living like that, if you chose to lead a systematic and ordered life and a materially comfortable life, please go ahead and live it. My choice is different. I chose the chaos, the colour, the noise, the warmth, the feeling of belonging, the rootedness, the comfort of familiarity, the pollution, the potholes, corruption, inefficiencies, faith, the sound of my language, sunshine, crowds, sweat, curious inquisitive people and everything that comes along with a life in India. I feel an inexplicable sense of peace and calm when i am there.The reassuring feeling that one experiences after returning home from a luxurious holiday. The home that may be a far cry from the comforts of the hotel you stayed in - but warts and all -it still is your home! I know so many people who have lived abroad for so so long that leaving everything behind and returning is a next to impossible situation - because of a feeling that their kids may not be able to live in india, they may not find work that suits their credentials, they may not be able to adapt themselves to the work culture of this country - but still yearn for life back home as it were. My point is know what you want and make that choice! Don't spend a lifetime yearning for one thing, doing the other and regretting your decisions when you look back. And for god sake don't travel on a road so far, so fast that you forget your way back home.

_________________________________________________________________

I had this conversation with my mom (whose family had to leave their home town during partition & moving to another country was not a decision - but an unfortunate play of fate) a few days back who asked me

Mom: mujhe to samaj nahin aata ki basa basaya ghar, basi basayee zingadi ko ujaadkar log kahin aur jaakar kyon rehna chatein hain?
I dont know why people would want to uproot themselves from where they have been living and go and try and settle down somewhere else.

Me: (not very interested in the conversation) Paisa...mom...money!

Mom:Kitna paisa...kya karoge paise ka...humne to jitna mila otne mein zindagi guzar li...aur achhi hi guzari
How much money...what will you do with it...in our time, we learn to make do with what we had...and i think we led a good life

Some days back i was listening to the song from the movie naam (chithi aai hai)- that describes a father's plea to his son who goes abroad to earn money & before he knows it gets sucked into the situation so badly that is unable to get out ...and these lines stuck in my head...

Tune paisa bohot kamaya, is paise nein des chudaya...Aaja umar bohot hai choti...apne ghar mein bhi hai roti...

You have earned a lot, tis the money that made you leave your homeland. Come back - life is too short...we have enough at home to afford our meals.

___________________________________________________________________

As I sit today and reflect on my choices, my conversation with my mom and the song i heard some days back...and though I think i can still trace my way back home, just in case i falter these thoughts will act as a beacon of light that will help me find my way on my road ahead. And I hope you find your way back home, too !

Home,india,living away from home,

The sun and his twin

The sun has a twin
Who looks at him through the day
Like it’s shadow…
He rises alongside every morning
And at dusk…merges with the sea

The twin - whispers to the sun
Though I’ve always been with you
How come you don’t know me?
If I can see you
Then why cant thee?

Is it possible then?
Like this sun
I have a twin too
Oblivious of its existence today
I will discover it someday

Standing face to face
Will I hear him - telling me…
Though I’ve been with you
Since you’re first heart beat
You have looked for me
Sometimes in stones and rocks
At other times in temples…and around trees

Warm friendly homes…a rare breed.

Childhood memories brings to mind some strong and vivid associations

Sunday movies on DD when everyone stayed at home and religiously watched the one movie that was dished out on TV. Those times were also about the ‘family’ – we were too young to crib about family vacations being boring. Relatives often came calling un-announced…I guess since very few houses then even had a telephone! I remember that the practice of dropping-in uninvited continued even when the telephone had become ubiquitous. One seldom called a relative to find out whether one could drop in or not – unless relatives stayed so far away that finding a door locked at the end of a 3 hour journey was a possibility one did not want to face. Even on calling one seldom heard a NO…don’t come…we are busy today…kind of response.

No matter what time of the day one called in…I remember people mostly greeted each other with oodles of warmth, an honest excitement and loads of good food made with love. Well mostly...here we exclude the temperamental aunts and uncles...since they were not truly representative of those times. Houses were relatively smaller (perhaps that’s what lent a cozy welcoming air to them), some times unkempt, most often with un-coordinated upholstery. Bed rooms (and that time there were no separate guest bedrooms) were open for kids to go and jump onto the beds…beds that often doubled up as surrogate dinning tables on which people sat with folded legs around durries that protected the sheets underneath from curry spills. No one cared about paint chipping off from surrounding walls which sometimes had leaky patches too, or about clothes, toys and books strewn around since nobody bothered to look around and evaluate the room or its décor with a sense of judgment. What caught and engaged one’s attention instead - were the people and the atmosphere charged with a sense of belonging. It was a home and homes (at least then) were not supposed to look clinically clean and color co-coordinated. The chaos in the surroundings lent it that homely character.

These days homes with such character and the people who inhabited them are becoming extinct. Now-a-days houses appear well kept but un-inviting, formal…distant. People make an effort to do up their houses and their smiles meticulously – but somehow it shows…things look so made up!

No place like home

In the last 5 years I have moved in and out of 7 houses,5 cities and 3 countries. No place seems strange and no place seems familiar.

I often ask myself – where is home?

Is home the city I was born in and spent the first 25 years of my life? It has taken only 5 to rob me of my feeling of comfort…my friends, my family. Today I feel like a stranger in my own city. Places & people are – just poor shadows of their former selves.

Could home be the city I spent the last 2 years where I worked and lived, acquired new friends and a place to stay ? Where I plan to live for many years in the future - even though I don't live there right now. I feel tempted to call it home. Then something holds me back. When I walk through the streets I don’t see any memories from my past lurking around its corners. Cutting through the din of the passing traffic I don’t hear the sound of my friends’ cackling, breaking out into a spontaneous joke. My eyes see just buildings - brick and mortar structures. Inside - my heart is silent.

Hey isn’t this the building that once housed Gazebo where we’d come often from college…pooling in our pocket money to buy us a single pizza.

And there – when you go down that road – there is an old cloth market where I remember going with ma as a child. Wading through those gallis and stopping at to refuel at Kamat’s .

No such stories around them come to the fore! How can a place devoid of memories be considered home? Some day – when I collect enough memories around this place – may be I’d call it home – but not just yet.

When I speak about this to friends, I realize I am not the only one who feels this way. For many of us, the one thing in life that is constant is this act of moving from place to place. Unnerving it is for a while but at the end of the day one learns to accept this lifestyle. This new way of living – I guess warrants a new definition of what one would call home. For me ‘A Home’ today has become – (not a place….but) a person I return to!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
October 4, 2006 - Update

1. A couple of more perspectives here and here
2. The count has now increased to - 8 houses, 6 cities and 4 countries....and is likely to change once again next month !

Loss - Where small is big

There are some moments in our life that we never forget. Stories recalled long after these incidents happen. These are usually the - first of times…day at school, graduation. But this post is not about such times. There is something else that we remember, recall, narrate and even regret long after it has happened. There are some in my personal memory bank

The time when I was 7 – 8 and we were all going to a movie. At that time there was the excitement about taking munchies to the movie hall from home - which we had excitedly packed in a large white plastic bag. We got into an auto rickshaw…kept the bag behind the seat in the storage area and got out leaving our bag of goodies behind. Needless to say we did not enjoy the movie that day and never leave anything behind the seat in a rickshaw ever since.

Then the other time when we were going for a wedding…all dressed up and on the way to the function someone stole my father’s wallet and we returned home with the memory of the lost wallet that is narrated till today – years after the incident

When we lose things…many a times these are small things…often replaceable …could be a bus pass or a pen…not worth much – it troubles us. We try to trace our route back in the hope of finding what we’ve lost…ask people around if they have seen it…agonize over it for days…sometimes more.

But then …

We lose our best of friends….to silence…friends who part ways without knowing what went wrong

We lose our health…to chips and fries and candy and coke

We lose our time….sometimes sitting in front of the TV…at other times doing things we do not enjoy

We lose love…to a false sense of pride…or pleasure…and we lose chances to tell people who matter, how much we love them.

And do not even realize!

Zoom Out

You cannot appreciate a painting if you are too close…
or perhaps in it

As you move closer and closer to an object…things start to blur…
one loses perspective

I have been moving quite a lot in the recent past. With each new place I have gone to, I have grown accustomed to it fairly quickly. I am amazed at the ability of the mind and the body to adapt. Given a few days or perhaps a week or two – the place does not seem ‘new’ any more. The biting winter does not seem all that bad. We just get used to things. Good in a way. In this day and age, work and life can take people to strange places. But this ability to adapt quickly – sometimes steals away the beauty of a new experience. Before you can even savor a place or situation – you start to see things with a different lens…one that is dusty or jaded!

For instance, when someone asks me – and I tell them I am in (or rather was) in London, I hear people go WOW. While I was there, it took a day or two for the ‘wow feeling’ to become a ‘so what reaction’. Though in the next breath if I’d asked them where they were, and I heard someone say Sydney or Chicago and my heart would go ‘wow’ again.

If I tell you to close your eyes and imagine what comes to your mind’s eye when I say the word ‘London’ – I guess you’d see the Tower Bridge or Big Ben or Shinny Big Red Bus or Telephone Booth…I would imagine people would get a flash of images or a panoramic view of places that are quintessentially London. When I am sitting in a house in London, I see in front of me the wall of my house or perhaps the street out of the window, if am outside I may find myself concentrating on the cold weather more than where I am. London does not seem breath taking any more. My panoramic view shrinks and becomes a picture of my immediate surroundings.

Our capacity to retain the newness of an experience is (or perhaps has become thanks to over exposure) very short.

I do not like this ‘getting used to’ feeling. It is dangerous to get used to things, especially so given the profession I am in. People involved in research, are after all supposed throw light on common everyday occurrences.

I sometimes wish I could just wipe off the dust on the lens though which I see things – so that the picture in front of me appears clearer…fresher and brighter.

I mulled over this thought for a while…about what I could do to keep my vision clear,about how not to lose perspective. I found at least one way of doing this and that was to… ‘zzzzzoom out’…Well the feeling of zooming out is better felt than expressed in words I suppose…but I’ll try to show you here what I mean

The first picture…does not mean anything expect black and white patches.
From thesecond picture one can at least identify ‘a roof’ and guess that it is covered with snow.

From the third picture one can see the landscape. Snow on a rooftop becomes beautiful when seen from a distance.

Now a days I try to zoom out while I am walking tothe supermarket or simply feeling the humdrum of a day…and more often than not…I end up with a :)

Categories: Reflections_

Relinquish

Background

I first wanted to name this poem (if i can call it a poem), 'surrender'...but the word seemed to have a negative ring to it. Though it has shades of the spirit of relinquishing, it also connotes an acceptance of despair, an admittance of defeat.

'Relinquish' on the other hand...sounds relatively more straight-forward and matter-of-fact to be the title of a poem. It is in fact very 'prosaic' but, I found some very powerful visual cues when looking up this word

Relinquish is to...

To part with a possession or a right
Cease to hold or adhere to
Relinquish to the power of another; yield to the control of another (and the last one is my favorite)
To release, as from one's grip

I have always grappled with the question...do I own my life? Am I the master of my own destiny? And each time i have asked myself this question, i have a subtle reminder that there is something beyond me that is steering the course of my life...call it a force, destiny, fate or God....and whenever I step back a bit from myself and my life and watch what is happening and let it happen...I find myself happier, instead of forcibly trying to steer it to another path. That does not mean I surrender my life and stop dreaming and living and experiencing what it offers. I merely open my fist...and release my grip and then sit back and enjoy the auto pilot mode....And I have written this poem...so that every time i forget this truth or doubt it, it serves me as a reminder

_________________________________________________________________________________

I give back to you what is yours
What was never mine…I can never own
I can never control

I am just here to experience what you have set out for me
I do not choose these experiences
I neither despair…nor hope…nor desire
I accept what you have given me
And thank you for it

I have nothing of mine in me.
Whatever is there….is yours!

Categories: Reflections_ , Poems_

(If) Death comes to everyone one by one; why doesn’t life?

Last week...I lost a classmate ...not someone who i could say i was close to... nevertheless someone i knew. The suddenness with which this happened was quite shocking....made me think a lot. Am putting down my thoughts here.

He was so young…about to get married

There was so much that he should have done and experienced
He did not deserve to die so early

Early…what is early?
Would it have been better had he died at 50 instead
Is there an age when one can say that one has lived enough?
Is there an age at which people die and
those around them do not miss them or cry?

He had two young children
He had so much to give to them
So much to give to life…

What is life?
A string of events…. experiences…memories
Who decides what the length of that string is?
How many experiences have been apportioned to him?
Would it have mattered had he experienced 20 more incidents?
Would that have been enough…
Would one then make peace with his parting with life?

It was so unexpected…
Would it have been better had death announced its arrival?
Would you have been better prepared?
How does one prepare for the death of somebody dear?

Death is always momentous…it does not go unnoticed
When people die…there is a sense of regret
As long as they are alive….is there a feeling of elation…or even awareness
Why do people wait till the end of life to feel its absence?

If LIFE a feeling of being alive…
What is that feeling…can it be described…where does one feel it?
We live everyday…but how many times do we feel alive in a day…
Do we feel it even once?

If death is perceptible….why isn’t life?
(If) Death comes to every one – one by one; why doesn’t life?

The last line is the translation of a poem by Gulzar that appears in the book ‘Silences’

Categories: Reflections_ , Poems_

Hi I’m Happy…And You?

Last evening a friend and I kept sending each other SMS messages back and forth, cribbing about how things are (and I must admit I was doing more of the cribbing). This flurry of beeps on my phone stopped when I saw this very simple but powerful message from her. It was almost like I did not have any reason to say Ya but…you know…since there was no way I could have argued what she said to me and without making more of a song about it...I’ll quote her...

"Ok. Take Care. This Situation is not going to stay so for long.
My resolution is to be happy all the time. Not matter what!"

And it’s the last line that stole my heart and quite frankly made me SHUT UP. Since this was not coming from a person for whom the going had been great and was just pep talking me out of my bad mood. This came from a person for whom life has been really really tough in the last one year.

And I thought to myself – How difficult can this be? Well I wont kid myself and you and tell you that it’s a very easy principle to apply but I have decided to do one thing for sure and that is, each time in the future I find myself in a mucky…unpleasant situation… I will remind myself of this thought and do something to make myself happy. And not always will it work…but for as many times as it does…I’ll be a happy soul :)

I have tried putting this into practice since yesterday and believe me, based on the little experience I’ve had - if nothing else you’ll end up a more creative person thinking up ways to make yourself happy.

Dead in the history books…Still Alive in our minds!

My first exposure to the 'The Caste System' as it prevailed in India was a chapter in the school history book, where I read about how it had been abolished by the endeavor of great men... Mahatama Gandhi and Baba Saheb Ambedkar amongst others. I grew up believing (rather was made to believe) that this evil was a thing of the past...that we as a society have evolved far too much for this system to permeate our daily life today.

I graduated from school to college and discovered what I learnt (at least as far as casteism in India was concerned) had been an illusion...a myth created by opinion leaders who'd much rather have the young generation see the world with rose tinted glasses and feel good about it rather than have reality stare them in the face. In a course in sociology at college, where the faculty did not believe in towing the line, the curriculum involved discussing life...real life...issues that people...in India were faced with....not the India you and I know...with its comfortable life in high rise apartments. We found ourselves talking about people living in the not so comfortable, not so urban India...dealing with casteism everyday...children not allowed to pursue an education...or even if they were fortunate enough to enter the precincts of a school, made to sit a few yards away from the children belonging to upper castes families....people not allowed to enter temples...or draw water from a well (to start with we would not think of depending on a well as a source of water but that’s a different issue altogether)....women burnt or slayed by their brother / father...her only crime...she married the person of her choice who happened to be a lower caste man...the brother – a murderer glorified by the village elders since he did what was termed by the media as 'honor killing'....killing somebody to protect the honor of the community. Moving out of college and moving on to work life...put these issues on the back burner in my mind. Not that these issues died a sudden death...I just found myself disconnected from these topics of discussions...work life brought with it new issues to think about.

My work took me to many towns ...big and small...in India...I could not help wonder how these towns have lost their character...with the advent of urbanization....it surprised me to see a UCB(United Colors of Benetton) in Ranchi...to see a signboard that said...opening shortly...SUBWAY....to hear that Indore (one can circumambulate the whole town in ten minutes) boasts of not 1 but 3 Coffee Day outlets. I had heard of the expression 'Any Town USA'...I was beginning to think the same about India...Any town I visited looked the same...the same shops, the same brands flashing as neon lights...I was (only) beginning to think that these billboards that symbolized the advent of MNCs were stretching the boundaries of what we call modern India...urban India - when I was reminded that what I saw was just a facade...beneath which ground reality had not changed much.

On one such trip to Lucknow I was talking to children...7 year olds...to find out whether they liked a new packaging for a kiddy product. I asked them to draw what they remembered of the packaging and once they had finished drawing....they could write their name against it...As soon as I finished what I had to say...one of the girls asked me...didi....naam likh diya....caste bhi likhna hai (I have written my name...do I need to write my caste too)...I chocked when I heard that...partly sad to see an innocent 7 year old ask me that question....partly angry at an educational / social system that perpetuates this evil!

Categories: Wandering Around_ , Reflections_

Urban Disconnect

In the last two months…time has (quite literally) flown! I have spent more time on board an aircraft than I have ever done…with the result that I can now accurately predict what meal option is going to be served on which airline at what time of the day and which row of passengers would be fortunate (or otherwise) to be served their meal first. I have perfected the art of slipping into deep slumber as soon as I have boarded…interspersed by waking up to cold face towels…sickeningly syrupy lemon juice served in the name of a 'refreshing beverage'…and of course to the meals! Have become adept at handling a newspaper as I carefully read and fold…not to disturb the two fat droopy men sitting on either side of me.

My seat preferences have gotten more and more specific with each time I have tele-checked in-to a flight and sometimes when I have found myself sitting by a window and not too drowsy myself…I have watched with the excitement of a child…the aircraft taking off the ground…with cars and houses that once looked so large and promising getting reduced to a nothing but a geometrical pattern of squares and circles. Fields seem like patches of green and yellow…mountains take the shape of little peaks and troughs with rivulets that run through the landscape like a child running with arms outstretched. Large fluffy cotton candy like clouds suspended by nothing…and a tranquil stillness fills the air. Life as seen from the window of an aircraft...is so distant from the squabbles and travails of an unrban existence. As i experience this i cannot help but be remined of W H Davies' ....Leisure

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughsAnd stare as long as sheep or cows

Food for thought....

An excerpt from a mail that i recently received from a colleague in response to my description of what my life has been in the last few months

Life on my planet is quite dull ! Little happening. You seem to be having much more fun. I am into quite routine stuff....though this is allowing me to maintain a healthy frequency for exercising, bowling, movies, etc.

A poor life if, full of care...we have no time to stand and stare!

Categories: Reflections_ , Wandering Around_