A sweet page in my Story

Arcee quiet literally, barged into my life. He didn't knock, he didn't ask if it was okay to step in. Right off the bat, when I was reluctantly made a part of my school group, Arcee was there to welcome me, with funny memes, absolute comfort zone, like he had known me all his life. He wasted no time in shortening my name to a never before version and that stuck like glue for the rest of my tenure in the group. Truth be told, we weren't in the same classroom though we belonged in the same batch and I could faintly recollect seeing him in the school assembly and corridors. So I stepped back and wondered if he had known me. And my game plan in the group had changed. What started off as 'let me be polite and accept the join request and put the group in mute' took a turn that I didn't ever imagine. His friendliness rubbed on on me. It made me feel like I returned home. It peeled the layers of fear of crowds and my introversion and made me go in a full blown cycle of 'self discovery'.

I say self discovery, because, Arcee's owning me in a very strange way, helped me discover my deep connection with the school and all the memories that dwell in me, which were never really spoken out or processed. After a long long time, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. Like there is a group of people out there, that would relate to all my seemingly trivial experiences of life and welcome me into my own world, with open arms. Suddenly, I was mining musable material that could fill in a biography if I wished to attempt one. I identified so many treasures and deep impact lessons from my first decade of life and gave them words. I didn't know when it happened, but that group became my virtual home. It was homecoming. And it was glorious - the most happy and content arrival of all.

As I discovered myself, I was presented with the purest forms of love as an added bonus. It failed me to understand how Arcee could just see everything I said or did in such absolute unconditional love. He played the 'I'll love you and spoil you rotten' mom's role. If I made a remark on a picture, he'd pop in from somewhere, wondering how I got that idea, or the appropriate words to convey it. If I said I was busy, he used to step back and say "I have to learn how to focus and do first things first from you." If I said I needed a break he said "But of course you need one. You are here to accomplish a lot of things, people like me can wait. It's a privilege to wait for you." If I said Hello, he'd say "That's the sweetest hello I'd ever heard. If I stayed silent - he'd say "Even your silence is soothing"

So you get the idea - it is about his ability to love. I was in  awe for the sweetest soul that never ever made anything about himself. He always shed such understanding and  positive light on the most silliest things I did or said to a point where I used to feel an overwhelming gratitude and embarrassment at the same time for all the lavish praise.

When we finally met, Arcee walked past a sea of people, directly to me, took my hand, held it with both his hands and said "Let your grace rub onto me" - At this point, I was like - "Yeah right, let it rub on...to me actually, let me learn how to love for the sake of loving"

In the three days we spent together attending the event, he played my personal Chauffeur. It was an utmost privilege to meet his inside and out beautiful wife and darling adorable children. When I met his wife she broke in the sweetest peals of laughter and said "There you are, I finally meet you. Ever since you joined the group, all Arcee was chanting was your name."
 Those three days were mine and just mine. I forgot who I was, whose wife and daughter and mother I was, I forgot my name, my address - and transformed into pure being. I stepped out of all my labels and breathed in pure existence, devoid of duties and running around. A piece of my life that lived for myself. His wife and kids happily took the back seat while the guest of honor was indulged with lavish love and attention. Every time I sat next to him in our ride, He dedicated a song and played it for me. I had the honor of discovering what a wonderful soul mate he scored for himself when I saw his wife being the same absolute sweetheart to everyone around her - speak about matches made in heaven!

In those three days, Arcee gifted me the experience of a life time, whether it was hauling me first thing in the day, to meet a friend and spend some time in the special need education school she runs, making sure that he showered the same kind of love on everyone that crossed his path and  making the efforts to organize a boat ride with all childhood friends, against all odds, just and just because I asked. Being the little frog in the well I am, that spent the majority of life in a closed circuit doing what mattered to me, I was overwhelmed by the love, the belonging and the concern that was being bestowed upon me. Knowing this kind of love reformatted me for good, in a profound way and I have kind souls like Arcee to thank for it.

After I took a permanent break from my smart device and social hang outs, Arcee still pops up, once in a while, with a sweet email message, never once sulking that his previous message went unanswered or never once taking turns and expecting me to follow through. The latest email he sent kind of made me flip over in joy and love - "I envy your kids" it read. "They are with you and get your love all along - For this Diwali, I hope you'll share some love with me"

I realized that I smile at his mention, at the sweet little things he did and does to make my life brighter, the little wicks of light he sends my way with his "no expectations attached" love.  Ironically, the one that keeps giving poses like the receiver - may be that's what true love is, the giving soul that whole heatedly and in all grounding and humility believes that it is getting instead.

Arcee - I am too analytical, logical, pseudo intellectual, selfish and detached to engage in your kind of giving. Bless your heart for being you. For how you make me feel like a child being doted on by a parent every time you cross my path. I might be a horrible in reciprocation, but just know, that I can never, ever put into words the gift you have given me, the experiences, the purity of friendship like it is supposed to be in an ideal world. My life is blessed with your presence and I had become a better person just by knowing you. For this Diwali, I want you to know that no matter what I give you, it'll pale in comparison to what I got in return.



And I am sure Rumi met his Arcee somewhere, to have thought of this quote.

And for this Diwali, I wish everyone experiences this kind of love in their lifetimes. Happy Diwali :)

Ponder

In the past decade, I had seen several cases of cancer in my close circle. Just as I am typing thes thoughts, I’d counted the loss of eight lives. Lives that had crossed mine in big and little ways, all of these people had some emotional connection or another with me. Five of them were ladies. Three of them hadn’t seen past their 30s. Four of them passed on with breast cancer. One of them left a direct and deep impact on the collective lives of me and my immediate family. 

Breasts. I often think that these appendages probably qualify as a the most 'obsessed about' body part of the female anatomy ,for obvious reasons. They render such allure and attraction to the female form, they function as nourishment to the human species, they sit over the heart. Recall how that sleazy  chart buster in Khalnayak dodges us to the apparent containment of the Choli?  But Of course, the breasts are located right above the heart, the power station where the weight of human emotions are processed. So a malignant tumor might be the manifestation of a weight carried under those breasts, in the heart center.  

Now, there are numerous reasons why people get breast cancer - I say people cause I learned that men are prone to it as well, though not as commonly as women. It could be one of the many random reasons that can trigger any form of cancer. But as I hear and read a lot of literature about the subject of cancer as the significant other does his research, I gasp as the variety of reasons that could trigger it in a human body. I was particularly intrigued by the fact that unprocessed emotions, traumas and turmoils play a part in the onset of breast cancer. I read a research paper recently, that pointed out in the direction that studies connect bottling up of emotions to the trigger of certain forms of cancer, with special reference to the breast kind. 

A very dear friend of mine, that had been fighting bravely against a nasty lymph node cancer told this to me in our many conversations about life and its content "Drop the stories - my therapist told me" she said. "I had carried too much of unprocessed emotions in my throat all my life - to a point where it wanted to burst out and here I am with this ailment" I listen to this woman in hypnotic awe and wonder if my own family member's breast cancer was in some way a weight that she carried, unprocessed and unaddressed. She is long gone to speak or validate my doubts but I sit here and shudder for all those bottled up emotions we carry around, denying them a let out. 

As I ponder about the mental and emotional side of the triggers, I cannot help but address the well meaning, probing questions  and judgments an ailing person or family is subjected to. When I told one of my friends about my MIL's breast cancer, the first question she asked me was "Oh...Why? Didn't she breast feed?" I didn't know how to answer that. Now, how delightful would it be if breastfeeding worked as a vaccination against breast cancer! Right? "Oh but she isn't a non vegetarian either" another acquaintance offered the elimination diagnosis.  I particularly cringe over the viral posts that are shared as awareness spreaders. I once read one such post a dear friend forwarded to me. It was a critical analysis about how Sonalee Bendre, the actress suffering from cancer, brought on to herself this fate, by poor lifestyle choices and extreme dieting practices. It had a condescending tone to it, almost sounding as if the actor somehow deserved to get the disease and we need to use her as a bad example to educate all and sundry about the stupidity of the choices she'd made. I wasn't angered when I read the article. I was saddened. We are such paragons of rightful living that we take it upon ourselves to dissect and shame a person battling life and death. I remember getting into an altercation with the friend for supporting and circulating the insensitive content, but I don't think the objective of the argument was met. 

We quickly, conveniently, somehow feel this intense urge to attribute, dissect and judge something even as grave as a life threatening illness. I am not sure if we can pin point the reasons of any illness with accuracy, but the 'bottling up' of emotions made absolute sense to me. We as humans carry unseen loads in our hearts, not all of us are brave or strong or alpha or even lucky enough to speak out our hearts and address our baggage. An oncologist friend of mine that practices in India once told me how some women patients that come to her often have stories of heavy oppression and emotional turmoil and abuse that precede the occurrence of cancer. To all the folks out there, with special reference to the families, I want to share what little I think would really help us in awareness and avoidance of a chronic illnesses. Please look around your surroundings and loved ones and offer support and attention. Listen, care, let hem let out the emotional toxins that come as side effects of living. Better yet, prevent causing stress and distress to your dear ones. Give time to your relationships. converse, offer love. As they say. happiness is the antidote to all illnesses. Also, don't duck breast exams. Early diagnosis is key to winning over the ailment. 

Sometimes I cannot help but laugh at the collective obsession of the human kind over breasts. How both men and women participate in it with equal vigor.  The ladies obsess over the size, or the shape or the sag or the perk and the opposite sex, over the other side of what these fat tissues present to them. We have a billion dollar augmentation surgery industry and a porn industry cashing over this obsession. So as we find pleasure in them, let us also find reasons to treasure what lies beneath them - the heart - the power center. Let's not let a shallow allure override a deep effect. Let's not limit the fondling to the flesh.

Let's atleast not hurt if we cannot heal. 

Why?

Questions address you 
As to Why?
Why do you write??
I attempt an answer 
And fall silent.
Is it that hard
To speak out what I can write?
It perhaps is -
Because when I write
I operate from a level beyond
My senses and sensory trails lead me to.
I write, as countless emotions
Cross my mind, like overlapped radio stations.
Things not meant for me
End up with a new destiny
Frothing out in my scribbles
Finding words to awkward silence.
I write because I purge
The pains that I push away
Denying them an existence.
I release little joys that hover around
Into words, and viola - they find a new lease of life
Preserved to be retraced, relived!
What a relief, a therapy this writing!
And then I write some more 
To tell stories that I would never live
In places I'd never be
Donning many bodies I'd never dwell in.

But the magic carpet of this imagination
Transforms. Launches,
Manifests a new reality.
I write to capture the tears that well up
Upon witnessing a sunset,
And seeing the humming bird vibrate around the vine outside my window.

I write to speak about how I miss, the people I miss
How I love the people I love.
How madly, deeply I feel
The feelings that elude expressions.
I write to record
How little, insignificant moments 
Add up to a life of meaning, of magic.
I write to crystallize tears into carefully carved art
I smear word salve
On the nips sustained
I heal, as I write -

I write because
I don't need a listener to my unspoken words.
It becomes a conversation with myself.
In a insane way, it preserves sanity.
Talk about poetic justice
And how it is served to me
While it is denied in a parallel world of speech and sly.

I write to rip my heart open
And empty its contents into unfiltered spaces
Sometimes I gasp
Cause I find that I tell this scroll
What I hadn't told myself.

And I am still asked why I write.
I do.
Because I breath.
And this writing renders a meaning into my breath.