Ponder

It is mid February and here I am, at entry number two. I did seem to have a lot to ponder about but somehow, I managed not to. In a way, I can brag that I had been silent. Or may be not. I had been thinking about a lot of things to blog about, so the mental silence is a far cry. As yet. But, we'll get there.

The second born got registered into Kindergarten. Yes, that tiny peanut that made the big bang wild card entry, like yesterday, is ready to kick off a lifetime of learning, starting with the 'on campus' stint. And then, like I keep reminding myself, it is a hamster wheel for life. Just today I was tracing back to the other play schools she attended in the past. The last one she attended was with a kind lady Ms.A. Ms.A was a dainty woman, with a shrill voice which sounded exactly like the actor Sridevi's , with the same exact diction in English. Ms.A was ever smiling, with a gentle demeanor. Her frizzy, tight curled hair cascaded from the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. When we showed up at the door, I always had to remind myself not to ring the bell, as it made baby M, A doe eyed toddler of eighteen months, break into a fit of sobs. 
The child, who would be on the floor playing with blocks or soft toys would turn to the door, give me a soul stirring stare and break into streams of tears. Her chubby cheeks would cloud her eyes and the four teeth on her lower gums would glisten in a wide open mouth. 

"She cries when she hears the doorbell" Ms.A offered, suggesting that we didn't ring the bell. The next few days, I knocked, but somehow Baby M used to follow her customary reaction to the door and I would be left feeling like a monster. "It probably reminds her of the parent that left her at the door" I offered on one of those days. "You know what? That's what it is. She remembers her mom or dad leaving when someone is at the door" Ms.A agreed with me. If my first born came with me to drop the kid off, she used to get misty, urging in my ear to pick baby M and pacify her. "Hold her close amma" She would suggest, as baby M would look at us with tear filled eyes, tiny droplets of tears trapped in her lush lashes looking like miniature gossamer fairy wings. A couple of weeks passed and baby M seemed to make peace with the door, and the knocks or the bells that ensued every morning when the school opened the doors to the kids. She used to look at me with dilated eyes, contemplating whether or not to cry. Slowly, the bewildered 'deer in the headlights' look softened into an unsure smile, in a 'to be or not to be' fashion. By the end of the first month, it even felt like her eyes shone a bit when she used to spot me at the door. Her near toothless grin made her eyes disappeared the same way her helpless cry did and we kind of warmed up to the new normalcy of baby M's day. 

When I used to drive back, I used to have flashes of my own triggers clouding my head. Random, seemingly trivial incidents that scrape new hurts out of old, near forgotten wounds. Not until I discovered the mindfulness and letting the thought pass through without giving it an emotional charge did I realize that most of what we put ourselves through is an encore presentation of what had passed and what had pained. When those stories are dropped soon as they pop up, life seems to be adjusting to the new normal those experiences would put us through. 

We stayed with Ms.A long enough for baby M to squeal in joy when she spotted me at the door during my drop off and pick up duty. She used to lumber to me in her unsteady toddler trot and offer her hands to be picked. Once in a while, she used to be perched on Ms.A's hip, her head nonchalantly rested on Ms.A's chest. On such days I would wonder if she was sleepy or a little low in spirit. But life does have a way to make us learn - or learn to ignore, let go, surrender.

May be it is how life prepares us to run in the hamster wheel, moderating the pain shadowing the ponder and boy, does it start off teaching from the crib!

Such a class A bitch this Life!!

So much for silence

2020 started off with the biggest contradiction. To my resolution that is. Kind of reminding me why I never really thought much of new year resolutions. The last time I blogged I vowed to be silent in the new year. And by silence, I meant the silence of the word and more importantly of the thought.  Naturally, I thought that thinking for the blog  and blogging has to be on a hold too for 2020. You see, the actual drill was to keep the mind present and in stillness and I thought blogging is anything but mental stillness for me. And I couldn't have thought of something more wrong.

So, the resolve was put to test and how. It was like all of a sudden, a bunch of my near and dear caught hold of me and cornered me to break my silence. I spent the better part of my first week emulating a call center  and listening to people go into verbal outpour of what seemed like concern, frustration and disappointment rolled into one, at the lack of my accessibility. I soaked in all that showers (or love) and felt so secure and snug in the fact that I have so many loved ones that would not really take a silent me. At that point, the resolution felt like the worst vow I'd ever taken in my life. "What?" "I had to be silent?" "Why?" "Why did nature provide a voice to the human kind?" - right?? Right!

And then the chatter and catching up dwindled to silence. After my morning chores are taken care of, I find myself in this cocoon on silence, wrapped up securely around me. I listen to the sounds of nature outside the oversized windows and consider even some music or television in the background as pure unadulterated noise. It is in these moments of absolute stillness that I hear a dictation in my head and like a well trained stenographer, I open the lappy and type these inspirations out in my virtual space. So the revelation is that all this catharsis of writing comes out of my silence. I mean not the banters and blah blahs but anything that I prize as some sort of creativity definitely stems out of the stillness and that cannot be anything else but the Source expressing itself through me.

The other day, the first born and I ventured into some bonding time at the store cluster. As we aimlessly skimmed through the isles of a cosmetic store, I froze in my tracks when I found a little girl settled up in the front of the busy store, lost in what looked like utter stillness, with a book to keep her company. She seemed like a little saint in probation, honing her concentration skill while being oblivious to her surroundings. I quickly whipped out my smart device and froze that perfection in lens, as always making sure not to meddle with anyone's privacy. And like a chain reaction, I had my own stillness kick in. It was like one of those movie scenes where everything freezes and all you hear is violins in the background. "Thoughts are a drain, be in the present. Keep a tab on where all your mind wanders. Is the past or the future thought that robs you of the present?" I imagine tidbits of spiritual wisdom appear like talk bubbles above my head.
Then the wisdom dawns - what's this incompleteness I feel inside of me? What's this constant 'Where do you go when you have nowhere to go?' question that plagued my mind since the dawn of 2020?"
I suddenly seemed to have found my answers. This space is where I go. It's my go to friend that takes the dump and sorts it out. This space is my therapy, my friend, my crutches when I limp, my readers when the font blurs, my wrap when the chills emerge, my company in my aloneness.

But of course, it's a toast for a silent new year, but isn't life an irony in action?

So I come back home, wandering in those lanes of chatter and conversation finding myself in the silence of this loved space.

The resolution is released. The resolve -  is on auto pilot. And I vow not to build dams to what has to flow.

Let it take over. And let me step aside.

:)

Ponder - And a Toast for a Silent and Blissful New year :)

It was a sunny day right after Christmas and the spouse and I decided to bond over grocery shopping and hunting for a new bedroom set for the guest room. We thought to leave the teen sitting the toddler and do this errand in a jiffy and then tag the kids along for funner things. As always, the kid duo somehow thinks that leaving the parental unit by themselves isn't a good idea and the spouse somehow thinks that leaving the kids alone isn't a good idea either - these both ideologies intersect and how seamlessly!   That's why we end up full strength in everything we do and everywhere we go unless it is a work related trip  for the significant other. 

So, like always, this escapade escalated to a family fun event. I was somehow looking to pep up my mood and use my shoes as a prop. Now don't ever question  the confidence of a woman that can wear a solid pink linen top paired with a black yoga pant - accessorized with a Kani pashmina and tadaa...sequined unicorn shoes that are a baby pink. Just heed to my advice and don't question her. She is way too figured out for her own good you might think. Think all you want but just steer clear of questioning her choice or offering her advice. It won't garner a reaction, response or a nod. Unless you are one of those people that can handle silence in response, don't do it. If you look at silence as the biggest insult posing as a response, God save you! 

As I trotted in with my shoes on, The first born did her characteristic eye roll. I mean, she looks cute doing that and besides she really needs to up her ante to irritate me, her normal eye rolls and 'whatevers' don't irk me enough - truth be told! "You need to be brave to wear something like that" the spouse offered his uncalled opinion as the first born kept chuckling. "Let's go" I said ignoring both reactions (Look,I told ya!) 

"Your are going to come home and change those shoes aren't you?" the first born dropped a subtle hint. "What makes you think so?" I asked. "You are not going to take me shopping in those shoes are you?" "Unless you want to not go shopping!" I offered. 

"Mother you need to change your shoes" She was more direct. "You are free to change your mother" I like it subtle by and large. Especially in my responses.

 Let me insert some perspective here. All that they say about compatibility is just baloney. Lately I see people being so high and mighty about compatibility for every human relationship. No no I am not digressing. You'll see where this is heading. In reality, there isn't anything like compatibility that is going to come and magically make a relationship. From where I see it, it is humanly impossible for two people to see things the same exact identical way or to agree on everything. Now if we have low levels of tolerance for other's difference of perspective, it is a good idea to look for someone that'll comply with most of your views. But at the end of the day, a happy relationship is the one that doesn't try to alter the other person to suit their views. Once we accept and let others be themselves and love them the way they are, we have nailed the foundation to a successful relationship. Of course exceptions apply, but technically, what I choose to wear on my feet should not make my dear ones embarrassed for me or about me. I think the family gets it without my trying to extract this tidbit of wisdom into verbal form. So back on track, we head out, with the mission to shop, two kids and a pair of unicorn shoes protecting and pepping my feet. 

As I was examining and swooning over a live edge head board in Restoration Hardware, which the spousal unit didn't really swoon over BTW,  I heard a voice in the background. I had to look back to see a beautiful lady probably in her fifties smile at me. "That's a beautiful pink on you" she beamed. "And look at the scarf!" I smiled and thanked her while excitedly pointing her to my shoes "Look at these sequined shoes? how about them?" I wanted her to approve so the bystanding teen is put in place. "Oooh" She let out a interjection in what looked like genuine awe. "Those are so gorgeous. I know those sequined shoes are a work of art and cost an arm and a leg" I was tempted to tell her that I found them on the clearance racks of Children's Place for $7.99" Oh yeah, I have disproportionate feet for my frame and I actually find fitting shoes in the kids section often. Instead of sharing the steal I scored, I ended up telling her that the teen wanted me to change them but I offered her to change the mom instead"  We both let out a laugh. As our conversation continued I walked closer to the lady. I noticed that her platinum blonde hair framed a kind face and the blue of her eyes looked glassy. For a moment, it appeared as if she was in some pain and came out to divert herself. "My two daughters put me in check all the time" she said "And I have son that is twenty one./ He has down syndrome"

I don't know what got into me but I said "That's wonderful" and quickly added "I hear they are fountains of such unconditional love" "yes, yes" her kind eyes beamed with joy. He is an absolute blessing. He has his moments but the joys outdo everything."
For the next twenty minutes I shared the story of another down syndrome kid that got adopted by a single dad in India. The young man fought with the legislature to alter laws to allow single people to adopt kids. It is our immense joy to know this guy in person and call him a dear friend. Time zoomed past. I felt a connect with the woman in those few minutes spent. She left beaming ear to ear, hopefully with the same kind of joy I felt while interacting with her.

As we stepped out of our shopping trip I looked down at my shoes. They are probably a misfit if the norms are to be followed. They'll probably raise eyebrows or trigger judgements. But every time we do what speaks to us, we probably let out a vibe and attract people that accept us for who we and as we are. It reminded me of the time, a few weeks ago, when I met a dear friend of mine in my travels. "My wife cautioned you to be prepared" he said "The kid is in one of his aggressive bouts today" - He was speaking about his twelve year old autistic son. I remembered smiling at him and saying "Just like we all do once in a while. We all are special needs"

"We all are special needs" he repeated looking like he was hit by an epiphany. "How true"

It is funny how a fully functioning brain can make us so wound up and uptight. We constantly feel the need to fix things and make others agree or disagree with us. We conjure up unmade insults and inflate our egos to fill entire rooms. Sometimes I feel we make such a disability out of ability. Sometimes I wish we all could shut down overworking minds and just Be. Just Be. Sometimes I wish we spoke only when our words are better than Silence.

The irony! 

Ponder

(And a 'Thank you' note to the Universe for the wonderful ride)

Another decade comes to close. And I reckon this has been slower than the previous one, in the sense that it didn't feel like a 'blink and gone' ten years like the 2000s felt. As I sit here and wonder why, I feel a sense of 'coming of age' in more ways than one. This can get autobiographical if I attempt to write every little nuance that came in and made me who I am today. So I'll just try to do a synopsis of sorts in no particular order. At some point, it'll all probably culminate into a book worth writing ;)

I spent the first quarter of the decade obsessing about having more children. If there's anything I am proud of about myself, I am proud of the fact that I seldom feel envious of others. There's a part of me that can happily rejoice in what others have like I have it myself. But one day, when I saw Angelina Jolie on the cover of a tabloid at a grocery checkout counter, I felt what I thought I would never feel. Boom and 'envy' peeked its ugly head out. And no, I wasn't envious of Brad by her side. I was actually envious of the six kids that surrounded her, one on the lap, one by the shoulder and one holding her hand. "Would she know if someone sneaked in an extra kid into her home?" the humor popped in to combat the envy but that was pretty much what I saw where ever I looked. I saw Parents with a whole broods of kids and I got into a battle of sorts with the perfect destiny that was curated for me. What followed was numerous attempts to the obstetrician to get to pregnant - and more importantly to stay pregnant. Pills, prenatals, blood works, disappointments, tears,  loss, miscarriages, frustrations. I saw it all.

It wasn't fun for anyone involved and I couldn't really explain much to a toddler that was obsessed with having a sibling just as intensely as I was obsessed with expanding my family. I probably energetically rubbed it on to her with the adamance I had to make this particular event rig in my favor. I succeeded but I somehow wasn't happy probably because my intuition cautioned me not to be. I lost a child early in the decade, just before he was supposed to see the light - a child that was supposed to come and put perfection into my world just came and left. The picture of me having half a dozen kids hovering around me was the only perfect picture out there and that shattered.

It didn't make me bitter. It made me blank. It made me reflective. It made me realize that happiness isn't a destination but  a journey and I don't need to produce a cricket team to feel joyous and complete. I stopped the chase and started to be grateful for what I had and I thanked God for putting me through what He did. I didn't fight with Him, or my life's game plan anymore. When my second born was conceived, I was blissfully unaware of it till I was well into the second trimester. When I realized I was about to be a mom again, I wasn't jumping up and down in joy. I was just looking at the divine plan and how I somehow thought that I had to tinker with it to have it my way. I finally realized that it'll be like it has to be and the best and the only way to live life is to accept that premediation of it and no matter what we are served, we are served what's needed and not what's wanted.

Then, it was my MIL's tryst with cancer. Watching her deal with a terminal illness with that much grace and aplomb taught me lessons no educational institution could ever do. A woman that I watched and admired and in a way tried to emulate for all her 'hands on' approach on life was fading before my eyes slowly and steadily and all I could do was play audience.  This experience was tailgating after my own personal tribulations and the timing of teaching the grace to let go and cementing that acceptance in my soul couldn't have been more precise. I watched in awe as this woman made arrangements to leave like she was packing for an exciting vacation. She taught me grace in the face of challenge in such exemplary way. Ironically, I feel her presence around today much more strongly that I did when she was there to answer my phone call whenever I fancied. It is a sad truth that sometimes, we appreciate what we have only after we don't have it anymore.  MIL's passing taught me to be in the moment and acknowledge, appreciate and give time to the people that matter. We never know when they'll leave, or when we'll leave. This moment is all we have got.

The decade had seen more epiphanies than one. It really steered me into a lane that'll keep going ahead. Amid all these turbulence, I found the one reliable source that I could fall back on time and again. I found my inner light. I started my spiritual quest of looking within. Like Rumi quoted  - the wound is where the light enters. He couldn't have been more right and I have a life to vouch for it. I have loved a tad more, I have given without counting and observed without judging. I have gathered pieces of a shattered heart and made a mosaic out of it. I didn't let the causality clip my wings. My heart is on the mend now, paired with a will to soar and expand and not let my shortcomings define me.

I understand life better, I love better, I live better. And on the happy side, I witnessed sunrise and sunset in the Greek Isles, lost and found myself in Scottish high lands, nursed another kid, stood witness to her blooming into a happy toddler, I fell in love in the true sense of falling in love amid all these experiences  and I stayed put. I understood that perfection is a thing. It might not be theoretically possible but your perfection is out there somewhere, tailor made for you. I attended a reunion in place that incubated me and made me who I am today. I rediscovered that school again and the deep seated love I have for everything related to my childhood. I went back to the roots of my soul, took a ride on the river that makes my insides sing with the people  from my formative years. I created a comic strip - Matt and Bessie are as close to me as my offspring. I wrote all I could, thought all I needed to, I continued to teach and find myself in that gig, I painted live size murals, I wrote reams of gibberish on my blog, I got my nose pierced, I milked a goat, I tasted alcohol, got drunk and smiled myself silly while realizing that I don't need to introduce endorphins into my system,  and that I am on a natural high, I swam in the rain, lip syncing to a song from my childhood playing in my head,   I stood by the people I love when they needed me, I cooked up a storm in a kitchen that looks every bit the perfection I imagined it to be, I binged on expensive cookware, I caught numerous sunrises, I hosted a pair of birds through their family way, I took long walks with myself, I aced my 'roast' skills with the first born, I stayed true to my inner child and wore sequined unicorn footwear without a trace of second guessing, I got my hands on a real time movie script to do my own learning with it and I meditated hours to end, getting a glimpse into the treasure within among many other silly fun things I did.

 I didn't scurry away in crisis, I didn't put the blame anywhere, I didn't hold grudges, I didn't brew bitterness. I read life changing works, I took up learning an art form, I forgave, I forgot,  I leaned that loving is letting go and the only way you own something is when you let it go.

And I laughed out loud  - at myself!

And As I look back on a decade closing, I see that I don't regret a thing! They all made me what I am today. They probably tore me apart, bulldozed me to the ground, burned me to ashes.

But.....Some myths aren't myths. Unicorns may be not, but Phoenixes! Don't write them off.

There's one person that you can depend and rely on no matter what. When you are alone, lonely - when you feel that the world is closing on you, when you feel dejected, rejected, depressed, abandoned - there's a true love that will be out there for you. The one that will watch you, be by your side, reflect, ruminate and pat your back. This one person will be back no matter what, no matter where you are in life and no matter where you have left him/her. Yes, the nature did create a soul mate for us and a fool proof one at that.

And that soul mate is the soul residing in you.

No matter how dire the outward situations are, if you give yourself the gift of yourself, you'll trump through the worst of challenges. No one else can do it for you but yourself. So don't ever give up on you. You are a superpower that can ace through anything. Just be patient and kind to yourself. At the end, it is your inner strength that's all there is and it is all that you need for every curve ball heading to smash your face. Don't hastily look for permanent solutions to temporary problems and for someone or something outward to come and be your knight and savior. Always, always, always listen to the light inside. It has your back.

Did I tell you that the Phoenix thing - That isn't a myth!

Don't give up on your true love. He/She will come back to you. He/She is you.

Most of all, I opened the gift of gratitude. A grateful heart is a happy one. Gratitude makes us discover reasons to be happy.

Thank you Universe, do your thang and take over me. I cannot wait to see how you'll orchestrate your perfection going forward! 

Dichotomy

When the Sun sets

On the unconsciousness 

Where does the soul look

What does it see

What does it seek?

A glass of mistakes posing as pinot noir

An accompanying warm plate of toasted nuts

Insisting that there are no mistakes - just lessons!

Down below at the sea level

A plethora of things 

That let go of you 

Whether you let go of them. Or not!

A faint ghost of an ego

Lingering around or perhaps dissolving into nothing

When the Sun Rises

On an elevation, an evolution, an ascension.

When endorphins become a store brand

Made in house

Chuck that glass of mistakes

Down the drain.

Why let a spirit taint the spiritual?

The elixir that’s there, just for asking!

Let the Sun never rise

On that unconsciousness again.

Let it just usher the being into the white light of bliss.

That unfolds beneath the noise in the mind.

Version

Sometimes the elements play along

Spraying droplets on the windshield

While they mimic and manifest

The tucked away insides.

The little rhythm lets out a sigh

One that precariously hangs

In between a shatter and a shelter 

“Are you mending a broken heart?”

One hears voices.

Heartbreaks are supposed to make one hallucinate

And hear the unsaid 

The misty glass dons a symbolic guise

And a little voice that questions 

Goes speechless 

In a Good way, one can guess.

An arch of color springs up in the greys ahead

Just when the soul was supposed to shrink and shatter

It soars like a falcon

Spreading its wings.

Sometimes the cracks let in mysterious miracles 

And what has to contract magically expands.

What’s an existence that didn’t love, didn’t lose?

What’s an existence that didn’t shatter?

The other turn of turmoil could transform into treasures 

Meant to share, let go and revel.

So, listen up little voice that questions 

It’s not broken. It is a breakthrough.

Pinky and Salman

Behold! That’s indeed Salman Khan’s mug shot on my blog space! Just when life gets predictable and boring, such occurrences happen. So the eternal “most eligible bachelor” of Bollywood that made his debut when your truly was an awkward kid on Puberty lane, stays put in his desirability long after the said awkward preteen settles into her “stray grey middle aged  mother of two” tag. Some things don’t change. Isn’t that wonderful??

There’s another thing that didn’t change across all these years apart from Salman’s stardom. And that happens to be my friendship with Pinky. Now Pinky and Salman exist on the same plane for me, though the former is a super dear, very special fixture in my life. In the virtue of being Pinky’s favorite actor, Salman somehow became a permanent fixture in my life as well. Cause every time I think of Pinky, Salman appears from behind like the Genie from
The Magic Lamp. Now yours truly never had favorite actors growing up, Ofcourse until a certain Mr. Damon showed up on the horizon and she isn’t really sure if Matt appeals to her as a person or a professional anyway. So without much digress, I’ll admit that my eighth, ninth and tenth grade’s recesses and free times were spent in listening to Pinky’s carefully curated Salman trivia. The other day  when I over heard Pinky on phone, baby talking to her alleged “puppy” Mr. Tiger ( who’s a full blown, true blue German Shepherd btw) I heard her ask me in her baby talking glory if I knew of anyone handsomer than Salman Khan.  Before I asked her  if she was referencing her husband (Sorry Mr.Pinky, It isn't you. Truths are bitter ;)) in the same baby voice, She told me that I didn’t meet Mr. Tiger in person, or in this case,I didn’t meet him in Canine. (Grin) So that goes to say, how much Pinky the Salman lover, is a bigger and better animal lover. Yes, Thank God for little blessings. Spouses need not apply, just in case you are wondering ;)

Pinky wasn’t your average star struck teen mind you. Though, I have to admit that after discovering Salman’s taste in women as I grew up, I always thought Pinky was his type, If you know what I mean. Pinky preceded the vision of Miss Kaif in her teen years though I was kind of surprised to discover Pinky as a very traditional, old fashioned home maker avatar  after we parted ways n lost touch post our tenth grade. Back in the day, Pinky was my window to the world, with special reference to Bhai of Bollywood. She would catch all Salman moves that made a tardy and sometimes painfully dubbed appearances on the screens of our modest little town and come back to school amd relate every bit of the plot to me, with spoilers in tow. So deep was Pinky’s admiration for Salman, that I secretly wished that I could meet Salman and get him to sign an expressly addressed autograph for pinky. Now, talk about the lengths we go in the name of love ;) Now that ‘meeting salman’ and making him sign an autograph for my bestie didn’t happen so far, but thanks again to huge blessings that  I  actually got reunited with  Pinky after a long gap,  thanks again to the magic of the modern day communication and the world wide web.

Pinky and I get along like peas in the same pod. We didn’t see each other in the longest time, make that 28 years. Whaat? 28 *insert expletive* years?? By God, I should admit that I did a double and triple take on that! Now did Salman freeze himself on the collective psyche of the Indian movie goer for so long?

Wait! Is this becoming about Salman seriously? Well, it should in all fairness. When it is about Pinky it has to be about Salman. But the real catch, ye August brethren, is this! It isn’t as much about Salman as it is about Pinky and in all honesty it isn’t as much about Pinky as it is about my love for Pinky and all things Pinky loves, cause I love her :)

And what if we didn’t meet in 28 years? I can bet my last dollar that we are as thick today as we were all those years ago. For true love, dearies, prevails. Full stop.

So my count up, in my little space that reflects my little heart and it’s little joys, is thrilled to feature Pinky alongside that lucky actor named Salman. I don’t know much about his track record but being on Pinky’s nice list is all it takes to get his presence felt in my sacred little bit of this cyber space.

So, the catch ye all ...this is actually about my attention span, that goes to super human lengths in the name of love. Three cheers to undying love and friendship. If that’s three cheers to Salman, so be it.

All is fair in Love. They say.
That - They cannot say it any righter ;)

“ “

Verse

What if Hearts were sold
By the sidewalk
Suspended into air
Defying the norms.
One for everyone
That seeks to love!
Or be loved.
Flying high in the human jungle
Above the hustle and bustle
Of betrayals and breaks.
What if hearts were priced to go..
Affordable, reliable
Where they come crossing our paths
For sale.
 With iron clad warranties
And fool proof service
That talks listens and nurtures.
What if hearts were hawked
Would that bankrupt many businesses
Of therapies, spirits and substances??
All one needs to do, is exchange a few pennies
For eternal peace and belonging.
What if Hearts were actual gadgets
Existing out of the flawed human bodies?
Out of selfish ends and prejudices.
Would the world be a better place
If hearts were for sale?
Or would it just make the irony
A tad more ironical??

Inspired by the hawker of hearts I spotted recently, somewhere out there.

Wordless

Well, almost!
My favorite quotes with pictures to boot!

Life of Pi is a book that imprinted itself on my heart ever since I first read it in 2003 :)

Take a bow Yann Martel.

Maya - The Parrot

It was a beautiful day in the valley. Chilly and overcast. It looked like the world around me was filtered through making every hue appear deeper, every detail appear more intricate. The kid duo prompted me to drive up the hill and drive down upon picking them up - so the influence is slow, but utterly sure. They look for the placement of the sun and the landscape basking underneath. "Look" the first born pointed out - "I see such finer detail and more homes up the faraway hills. I think they are washed out in the brightness on a sunny day" 
There's a saying in my native tongue - about Parrots and the way they speak - It loosely translates to "To which ever nest the parrot belongs, that language it speaks" 

I know, There's no trace of the topic Of Maya the parrot as yet, except this random, useless incident of my day, and this random useless capture I did on my smartphone - but what's a woman to do? I feel compelled to hand hold you through the silliest of my thoughts with the silliest of props.

Yeah, we'll get there momentarily, but to get to Maya the parrot- I need to do a prologue that dates back to my third grade. This was the time when my love for color and painting was emerging. The brand Camlin made a watercolor palette for kids, that was called "Camlin Cadet, students' watercolor cakes" - It had this assortment of fifteen water color tablets and those were my best friends in that day and age up until the day I found a loose wooden bird that fell off of a knick knack that was on my father's working desk in his office. I tinkered with the bird - which was carved out of unlacqured/ unpainted plain wood. So the bird in question that got estranged from her clique had species ambiguity. I got her with me and painted her a few saturated coats of parrot green with the watercolors giving it a crimson beak and collar- the results weren't vibrant and glossy but the easy to please kid was pleased nevertheless. Thus, her new pet Mynah the parrot came into being. Now please do not ask an eight year old why she would call a parrot a Mynah and no, the parrot didn't have an identity crisis. I assure. 

Mynah came with me to school, tucked safely into my pencil box. Yeah, she was tiny. But she packed a big punch of joy with her. On retrospect, I realize I had such rich imagination. I used to speak to Mynah - tell her random things about me and my life. Like I tell this scroll even today - Old habit and all that wisdom, case in point, it is so true :)
So anyway, right there was my yearning to somehow have a parrot for a friend. To hold one, to pet one, to speak to one and like Uncle Cohelo says 


"When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it."

Surely indeed, the universe took close to a couple decades to materialize this yearning. What you are seeking, is seeking you - Right? right!

Enter Maya.

Maya was a Indian rose ringed parakeet, The exact one I tried to model my Mynah after, years ago. She was the pet of our friend and neighbor's five year old son. When I first learned of Maya and her entry into this household, I couldn't stop myself from paying her a visit. The day I actually got to meet her wasn't sooner as I yearned. So when I went, the family had stories and stories about her quirks, how shy she is and how it is better I enjoy her from a safe distance. 

Who'd have thunk that Maya would make an eye contact with me - an intense 'there you are' kindaa one. And before I knew or someone stopped me, I opened the door of her cage and offered her my hand as a perch. 

Maya came hopping and landed right on my wrist and to the utter surprise of our audience, I find myself settled in the family's easy chair with Maya settled snugly in my lap. As she made herself comfortable, she found a button on my shirt and started pecking at it, punctuating her chore with looking up at me every now and then. Maya felt hollow and was extremely agile - she stomped up and down my torso pecking at the buttons and looking at me as if to watch for my reaction. she and I spent a chunk of time while her family wondered in the background.

"She never does this. Trust us she is so shy"

(I kind of related to what they had to say as my own five year old toddler did the same thing to me once in a while. "She has stranger anxiety" I once told the stranger in the railways station back home when they offered to carry her - and my little baby decided to smile at them and offer her hands to be carried"  Talk about life's little speed breakers ;))

I didn't have much to say to what they said. I was in the middle of feeling like Potter that had discovered that he was a parsletongue. Ever since, Maya and I had our frequent hangouts. Every opportunity I got, I used to sneak out and pay her a visit. In the process of bonding with Maya, I did useless research about parrots and found trivia that is fascinating. No, I won't share any here. Rest assured. I do not want to up the bore-o-meter of this ponder.Or may be it would make this banter interesting - But we'll let it be :)

One day, Maya flew away. Phew....she just made it into the backyard and poof...gone! Domesticated birds aren't supposed to do that. The grandma of the five year old was mighty pleased. She thought it was a torture to have birds as pets. But according to my research, the domesticated birds cannot make it on their own in the wild. Maya metaphorically lived her name. She was here, and then she wasn't. Even till date, I wonder what had happened to her. May be she's one of those oddities that defied norms - that's possibly why she chose to fly away.

"So I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you"


My thoughts drift to Maya every now and then. She's made a very intense childhood dream of mine into a reality. I hope, she's out there somewhere livin it up in her own terms, making her own dreams come true.