Healing: the beginning in untold ways


Healing comes your way in untold ways

On days cloudy and sunny…it don’t matter how those small beginnings begin to unfold and phase…..

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Three months back, I decided to take up Spoken English classes for a bunch of ladies, on a whim. I just wanted to escape my mundane routine and, my eyes and my brain were craving for something new. I wanted to escape a lot of things actually. And, truth to be told, I wasn’t even sure what those things were. Funny no? You sometimes don’t even know what you run away from and, why.

Are those shadows of menace, your situations or your attitude towards your situations?

Sometimes, the running begins even before the situations knock your door.

So, was it a lull I was going through? After working for almost a decade as a freelancer who never really faced dearth in work opportunities, I suddenly felt misplaced as the place evidently wasn’t complaint to my requirements. And, given my repulsion towards socialising (believe me, my pretense in a crowd ups my deception with finesse), I had my reservations about speaking up about the things that I would love to pursue. So before I digress into how I am more comfy within the walls of my persona, I would like to take the diversion from this post towards what I am actually feeling today after completing three month course as a SPOKEN English instructor.

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My feelings at the moment : Content and overwhelmed at the same time.

Today, while the ladies finished speaking about the many topics we discussed and brainstormed over in the past one month, my heart swelled with pride at how these women who at the beginning of the course would just NOT open their mouths to say anything except a goodmorning, spoke at length about the many self selected topics such as

“About Guru Granth Sahib”,
“Life in a village: a forgotten dream”,
“Pros and Cons of Technology”,
“About Success and Failure”,
“Protection against child abuse”,
“Relationship between a mother in law and daughter in law”,
“About the Sardar Patel statue recently erected in Gujarat”

And many more…………..

But the one topic, each of them spoke with passion and confidence was “About Army life”

And, it struck me then about why these women had such an impact on me as students. While they confided in me their fears and their joys, their inhibitions and passions and, their dilemmas and decisions and much more, I realized how much I actually wanted these women in my life. As much as they wanted someone to listen to them without judgments, I wanted the same too! And if the words that I spoke comforted them as listeners, I as a teacher was as comforted and warmly by their attention.

And mind well people, I realized in a profound way through this course on why – “Attention is the highest form of respect one could give anyone!!”

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Will I miss these women? A lot. A lot more than I could imagine.

I am going to miss their giggles when I narrated funny incidents from my life in the class and, their narrations about incidents from their lives in broken English that sounded sweet.

I am going to miss their hands up in the air when j would ask “Who is going to come and share in English about the topic they have chosen to speak about?”

I am also going to miss those funny fights among them while they couldn’t agree to sharing same topics with their mates!

I am pretty much going to miss the help they collectively extended to the ones that hadtrouble saying difficult words.

And, I am going to miss their quotes on the board that would be second to greet me a good morning after them.

I am going to miss their shyness.

I am going to miss their boldness that came later.

And, I am going to miss their sisterhood a lot, that sprang from their faith in me as much as I placed mine in them.

While I taught them, I stepped OUT of a world of idiosyncrasies, obligations and misplaced arrogance and, entered INTO a world of simlicity, attention and humility.

I was happy because I was comfortable in my own skin here. I came to teach here with an open mind and, the ladies came with an open mind too. None had airs about positions and, everyone just fit in my class like a glove!

And, how the twelve weeks passed!!

The word ‘jiffy’ wouldn’t do justice!!!

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I believe this experience is first of the many new beginnings in my life. And, I got atleast one reason to say so because last week, I happened to met one of my students at a shop and, her husband walked up to me and said, “Thank you ma’am….because I don’t know if she is learning English as well as you teach….but she is definitely a very happy woman after returning from your class”

The Universe always finds ways for us to repay it back with the rewards we earn. And the repayment is a wonderful quid pro quo because…even in that, the earning of goodwill is constant.

Maybe, I don’t have a ‘fetch’ career to rave about. Maybe, I don’t have the luxury of globetrotting yet.
Maybe, I don’t have the resources to aim my goalposts yet. (Because I am one ‘incy wincy spider’ in the present)

And yet, I am a happy soul. Because, when I asked for one diversion, I was blessed with avenues I never thought of.

And, this experience was one of the many that shed its invisibility for me.

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Small beginnings are those shining beacons of hope that there is yet a lot more to look forward to in this life.

😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

P.S: One of the testimonials from one of my students…. who had a tough time giving an intro about herself and she ended up giving a speech today after three months!

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****I Hate Puppet Shows****


I never enjoyed puppet shows. I never did.

As a child, I did not like them because they made little sense to me.

As an adult, I began despising them because they made absolute sense to me.

Puppets never inspired me ever. Even as a preschool teacher, I could not remotely relate to that concept. The very touch of those strings made me uncomfortable.

I would NOT know why…until adulting offered no choice to escape and, human driven conflicts made me realize why I hated them so much!!

Those strings!! They bothered me!!! Every time I watched the strings, something always churned at the pit of my stomach. Only then, I did not know why. Now, I do.

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The strings of puppets bother me. They hold back potential. And, anything that holds one back from doing something that the heart wants is plain unhealthy!

Look at a puppet and, it has offered some part or whole of the control over its exiatence to someone. Maybe, a puppet has no choice. But then, what if puppets were born with the belief that there is no choice?

We will come to that point in a while.

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So…looking deep into the context of puppets…….in some way or the other…we are all puppets…because…..somewhere, someplace a million collision of fates is determining some course of action in our lives. One can argue that destiny is in our hands….but then, who is to say how things shall unfold….it is strange how a million lives get impacted in unspeakable ways when a natural calamity strikes! Would one hold the forte of ‘Destiny in my hands’ even then?

Another basic example where puppet stringing happens is in, raising children. We subconsciously and more often than not, consciously puppet string them.

DO THIS!
DO THAT!
HEY! YOU FINISH YOUR PLATE! NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT!”
PLAY TIME OVER, MATE! NO MORE MOBILE BROWSING! TIME TO SLEEP!

And much more….but then, it is a requirement when we raise children. A depicable requirement, an evil necessity and a, difficult predicament where setting boundaries for children is important for them whether or not we like It! Why? The world ain’t safe enough for us to let our children evolve with zero inhibitions! As parents, the tiny speck of magma called fear keeps burning and, it reminds us from time to time why we got to embrace the strings as much as we despise them!

And then, there are many other moments like social gatherings and workplaces where we are held back by strings of ‘This will make someone angry and So, I shall tolerate it for my mental peace’ or, ‘being morally neutral keeps us safe’ or, ‘Not my problem (core reason for the #MeToo movement)’

Unfortunately, this kind of fear fans flames of arrogance and, weakens collective voices of reason.

So, you see how puppet stringing in two different contexts above mean different…..rather differently uncomfortable. Strange…..there is nothing to rave about puppet stringing and yet, the world would collapse without It!

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I am not sure about how destiny trumbles its fingers on the strings that hold us….And, I have no intention of hijacking its blue prints! Because some day I believe, eveything will fall in place and, everything will make sense.

Maybe, today is not that day.

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So, coming back to my earlier point on – what if puppets were born with the belief that they had no choice?

“Puppets are non living. They don’t have a choice any which way”

I guess that is plain arrogance of a man… confident about how his creation ought to function.

So pray tell, how different are we from puppets??

To some extent, each one of us is stringed.

No matter how vehemently one denies its existence, it is there. If you feel judgmental about It, you are yet to face a situation that would probably push you to disbelieve what you have been taught to believe.

Life is indeed a Russian Roulette. You have never seen it all. Till your last breath, I say! There is always a hidden riddle somewhere. And, the probability of a hit shall be as misleading as the miss. All said and done, there is no running away from this inescapable game of chance!

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And let’s talk about what is predictable in puppet stringing is how in certain aspects of life, it is reduced to a cheap thrill where a delusion is created and, the subjects are perceived as puppets and, must oblige no matter what. And no, puppets dare not voice their opinion because they aren’t supposed to.

So, what are puppets ideally supposed to do?

Listen, obey and keep quiet even if the human behind the strings is oblivious/non oblivious to their morally unjustified actions?

Not to mention, we are all guilty of having been complicit in the act of puppet stringing, personally and professionally.

Were there choices? Oh! There surely were. So, why were the choices evaded? Silence!

Here….the silence is not merely loss of words. It is also the loss of understanding why the choices were evaded.

Like my mum mentioned many years back ...”It is so easy to tell people to see the good and be optimistic about life. But do you know how difficult it is to feel the hurt…hurt that no-one chooses to understand because they never knew what it feels Like! Just remember, you need to follow what your soul guides you towards. The trick is to know which is the genuine voice among the muffled ones inside. And, no one can teach you that because you are born with that knowledge. And, only time has the key to unlock that riddle for you. Until then, enduring pain and hurt will be a part of life whether you like it or not!”

These words came to me at different times in life in bits and pieces….and it has taken me more than three decades of my existence to get a hang of the essence.

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And it is here, I often sit and ponder about how exhilarating it feels to proclaim love and affection for loved ones through many gestures…..but then would I experience the same catharsis if I could bare my head to some and, let know why they have lost all good faith and reapect and, whatever they are getting is just some kind of a pretense, a shield that stalls unpleasantness for some time.

Because….sometimes the words are just brimming on the side of the wok and, begin spilling over…..and there are desperate attempts to bring down the flame of anger by feeding self with ‘this too shall pass’…

Because, stalling unpleasantness is sometimes preferable to unpleasantness.

Because, at the end of the day….life is all about having less conflicts and nil negativity……who wants bitterness, right??

Because, words once spilled cannot be taken back!!

And that is precisely why I choose to remain guilty of being stringed for now.

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But then, isn’t it surreal to NOT know what it would be like to take a chance and see how the outcome unfolds by adhering to the puppet stringing art??

OR, how equally surreal it would be to know what it shall unveil should the strings be chopped off on an impulse???

Quite a predicament.

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Maybe, we are all either puppets out of choice….and at times, out of NO choice…..Because no two situations will ever be the same….no two reactions to the same situation will ever be the same. Maybe, we just need to buy the right time with patience and then, cut those toxic strings off when the iron is hot!!

Until then, STALEMATE 😎😎

And, GUILTY AS CHARGED FOR BEING a part of an art I fail to Like!

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#FleetingThoughts

#NarayaniInPonderLust

PS: And, this gives birth to a seed of thought for my next post –

What if puppets were born with the belief that they had choices?

“Puppets are non living. They don’t have a choice any which way”

The smirks are coming through in the head.

Stay tuned!! 😉😉

Someone said something nasty about women and, I did not like it.


There is something very disturbing about men who feel that women should fight back in cases of sexual harassment THERE and THEN because WHEN they DON’T, they are ‘COMPLICIT’ in the crime about to unfold.

This kind of a banal statement came from an acquaintance male who is supposedly ‘well raised’, married and earning well. And it is here, I realized it ain’t those goons sitting on Highways to hunt down women that are more dangerous because, they are beyond repair and are rabid. No cure, sadly. But these men, ‘ literate ones’ who drive fancy cars, travel around the world, date women wherever they go and, also get married….are worse!

Yesterday, I had posted about how the voice against sexual abuse is finally finding its groove through social media. And, I find a comment from the said ‘ educated’ man stating that the reason these women voiced their grievances so late is because ‘they enjoyed the favours until they lasted and then, when the favours stopped, they had to find means to get them again!’ This was again pushed under the cloak of ‘two sides to a story’ et al.

Why? Why?

It isn’t even about the gender divide. Where did the basic empathy fly off to? That genuine feeling that comes for someone who has been through hell and is, finally finding the voice again – where did that feeling ‘I get you!’ go?

And, for all the bullshit arguments that are propping up about how these women could have retorted and fought……let me give you three of the million examples on how women actually got treated when they tried….

1. What happened to Sonali Mukherjee? An aspiring NCC cadet who was eve teased and when she retorted and even approached the police, she was scarred for life with an acid attack!

2. What happened to Suzette Jordan? (RIP Suzette) Just because she drank at a pub, made her a core reason for the rape that followed? And when she fought for her dignity (the way she was treated after the incident was more shameful), there were people who said….she had it coming because she chose a place and time for her indulgence, not adhering to ‘moral’ standards ‘dictated’ for women!

I was appalled. Somewhere the woman inside me felt like having been kicked in the gut.

3. What happened to the 1999 Bokaro gang rape victim? A very bright XII girl who retorted to eve teasing, made a police complaint only to experience a gruesome gang rape that left her a mental patient until her demise a few years later.

Please don’t tell me that these women were ‘complicit’ or ‘weren’t strong enough’ to fight back! Because, if you do, you are a REAL THREAT to every woman you meet!

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There are countless examples of women who have fought back, of women who have voiced their displeasure and discomfort and, of women who have borne the scars for life knowing that their time for retribution will also come.

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I usually don’t react to banal statements and, that kind of explains why I don’t follow Twitter much. That one platform is a shitstorm where ugliness gloats in all glory. But then, yesterday I was appalled to see statements on a post I had shared…and thos particular comment questioned the intent of women coming out with allegations against famous personalities. And then, came a very interesting pointer from the guy that women demand equality only when it suits them.

Of course, I am reminded time and again that the world is full of people of all shades, some of them actually bring out your dark side too!

All I could do is sigh!

A grown up man, an acquaintance, a married one at that…who has a sister, who believes he has travelled the world and feels that other countries treat their women better, saying derogatory things about women of one’s own country like “these women were complicit because they did not scream then” reflects one undisputed fact –

“Character building begins at home!”

And somewhere, the mothers who raise their sons like the Sarpanch from NH10 (played by Deepti Naval) are to blame! Completely!

Mothers who raise the sons and, either choose to remain silent to their wards’ disdain towards opposite gender or, choose to fan the flames of chauvinism are responsible for all the scum walking on earth! These men get used to the routine of looking down upon their sisters, their female subordinates at work, their wives and then, there are so many to ogle around! Who cares? And why not? Ogling is ‘harmless’ and, is ‘fun’ too!

Every grave crime always started with some ‘harmless fun’ that never got questioned/cornered/corrected!!

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And today, when women are finally finding their voice again after decades, the tendency of the world arises only to snub them more than believe them.

Let me add…it took a collective of over 70 voices in Hollywood to bring down Weinstein and, to note here…..These voices helped in a speedy route towards ensuring that crime never pays!

Two sides to a story huh?? Well, then pray tell why the voice on the side of perpetrators is even unable to whisper ‘I am innocent’!??

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Dear men, your education and your work experience can hop off a cliff if you cannot feel your gut flip for women who survived rapes and acid attacks! Your kind of men seriously need to be confined in an asylum!

And please, no more of #NotAllMen crap!!

Because if you truly belong to #NotAllMen, the first step would be to atleast attempt to believe the victim/survivor and NOT take a morally neutral stand of “Who knows? There are two sides to every story!”

Remember, the world is as unsafe for women as for men… so better, grow some balls and, stand for fellow humans in the need of the hour!

Fear, the Pa Mei of Universe


******High Heavens and Deep Hell********

Paranoia is a state of fear gone rogue. Like the character of Kamal Hassan in the movie Tenali. Well, the movie is a comedy that still leaves me in splits….every time I watch it! How amazing it is to portray something as nasty as fear as something so comic!!

Well, the movie ends. And, the humour ends there.

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And then, fear divests itself off its appealing satire and, reveals its nasty side. Fear of unforeseen situations can be exhausting. It is not something we don’t anticipate. It is always there. But, there are a few times when it makes its presence known better. It shakes your core and, brings you back to the ground and reminds you – ‘Not only nothing lasts forever….Even no-one lasts for ever!

Even as the optimist in self explains why it is important to live the present moment (कल किसने देखा है? ), there is always a lingering fear about how long will good things last…..or worse….how long will we have our loved ones around?
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It all began for me with the demise of my maternal uncle in the year 2016.

I had met my uncle in the same year in June and, my son got so attached with his ‘mama tatha’ that they moved around like inseparable siblings. My own conversations with him were never ending queries on science and spirtuality. He had mentioned how he would get me some good books next time we met.

The next time never came.

Little did I know, that meeting was the last of what I would see of my beloved Lakshman mama.

A part of me has been numb since then. The pain of bereavement was never so severe before. For the first time in life as an adult, I yearned to become a child once again, to feel the warmth and presence of the loved ones that have departed……

It was the first time in life that, a death weakened my hopes and strengthened my fears. I did have cold sweats that year because I felt a warm blanket of support being yanked away rudely. It was as though my perception about optimism and good things in life changed overnight. For the second time in life (first being 2013), I was scared of everything unknown. I was very very scared. And suddenly, I just wanted…all my loved ones around be blessed with good health and happiness and enough time to enjoy it.

The subsequent year, I lost my granny.

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Mum and dad lost their most loved ones within a gap of few months and, I could see how silent they have become with time.

Their silence unsettles me at times, given how jovial they are and, how they pick up fights deliberately with each other…. I realized one thing – Old age comes with its own package of fears too…

But then, my responsibilities remind me why I need to be strong for all of us. Yes, the fear is as alive as before. I will NOT lie when I say that each day, as much as I feel indebted to the Universe for blessing me with good people around, I am also shit scared of losing my blessings.

The fear is real.

But maybe, the fear is teaching me something. It is perhaps bleeding my knuckles and, is preparing me to get past every hurdle that awaits me. Maybe, it is trying to show me that the climb uphill will be arduous but, if I have been chosen to traverse it, I will be trained well enough to endure the pains.

Maybe, it is not ‘Maybe’ anymore.

FEAR……indeed is the PA MEI of the Universe.

The ***High Heavens and Deep Hells*** are those alternating patches on our journey of life. And somewhere, deep down I believe….it is the road to perdition that puts enough misery on our path to break us…is what will also lead us to the very purpose of why we are here, living the life we have got…..

Fear is perhaps not to be feared. It is meant to be understood.

But then no one ever said, ‘understanding’ is synonymous to walking on a tight rope on a stormy day.

There is always a catch! BING!“, smiles Destiny!

Some writers are immortal.


**An author who lives in my heart**

The first time I chanced on his book was somewhere in the year ’98. I am not sure which year it was. But, I was still a teen in school. The place was some famous book store in Delhi. My dad was on some official tour and, mum and I tagged along. And, all three of us felt happy in the book store for different reasons. Mum was busy scouring through the academic sections so that she could get the best books on Math and Physics for me. My dad who was then under the AOL spell was following the spirtuality section.

I was in my happiest avatar for two reasons,
One, I wanted to read some adult books and my parents weren’t really aware of my thoughts.

And two, i could spend hours reading a book there and push off without buying it.

(Nasty, no? No, actually)

And, this book caught my eye. The title read – ‘In the company of women’. The author was Late Kushwant Singh, someone my dad had once mentioned as one of the few authors who could talk sense in a way that even daggers felt like Cupid’s arrows! I had read a few of his editorial columns…and maybe, I never understood much at that age. But, I loved the way he wrote, regardless.

So, where was I?

And, I took this book and gleefully began to read the book. It did not take me long to figure out that it was definitely a book that transcended all realms of morality and that, my parents weren’t the only ones who would scrutinize a teen for picking that book. Apparently, a matronly bispectacled lady just stepped in out of nowhere while she began going through some books. And, she saw me.

😐😐

That one stare which was probably just a few seconds, felt like the Sun shining directly on my eyes. I promptly kept the book back and, joined my parents like the innocent kid who went searching for Agatha Christe but landed with some book that spelt soft porn! Never mind. I got a book on different types of snakes IN India.

Post marriage and, a child later…..When my husband saw that book, he cringed. He feels squeamish whenever I go vocal about my obsession and fear of snakes, serpents and paranormal. Well, the obsession continues to stick with me. 😎😎

But then, ain’t I digressing by habit?

Cut back to the time post that incident….., I probably read just a few chapters of that ‘blasphemous’ book then and, forgot all about this episode after returning home.

The same year, there was a short story – ‘The mark of Vishnu’ by Kushwant Singh in my English prose. I was addicted to that story and to an extent that, I wished to tell the old man thay the ending was gut wrenching for me. But then, it is the same writing style that made me fall in love with this author because, he writes truth as it is – bold and ugly. One of his books ‘Train to Pakistan’, which I read in some library years back did make my gut flip. But then, wasn’t truth always bizzare? That is what this man has been trying to convince the world about.

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And after all these years, I picked up a book at Kolkata airport. The book was titled – ‘Truth, Love and a little malice’.

I am still savouring the chapters of this autobiography, which evidently became his last book too. And, this book is a revelation on every page. In a world, where everyone wants to appear ‘the messiah’, ‘the holy’, ‘the successful’ , ‘the morally incorruptible’…., this man succeeds in destroying all those myths and notions and, proves that to be oneself the way one is destined to be, is the biggest challenge ever.

Kushwant Singh won his challenge at ‘century – 1’

His obituary to self remains one of its kind – “Here lies one who spared neither man nor God/ Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod/ Writing nasty things he regarded as great fun/ Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.”

Long live the fiesty Sardar in our hearts!

Reprehensible emotions & Sensible abstractions.


How usual it is for people to come and advise you about how you need to be in your life? It is unusual if people don’t.

Right? Right.

And today, I happened to pen down some thoughts on FaceBook on how locks and keys are an important aspect in our lives. We have a lock for our homes, cupboards, lockers, racks and so on. And, we also remember to unlock them, be our closets to wear choicest outfits or, unlock our passions in the arms of our loved ones or, unlocking our budget savings when we have to book a dwelling et al. But, these locking and unlocking come naturally to us. Maybe, we are at the most primal selves in the above mentioned stances. However, there is one thing we subconsciously lock but never bother to unlock while we assume that we have keys for all our important locks. And that one thing is emotions that come naturally to us when we do not envisage the outcome of events, that play against us while all the time we assumed, would never fail us!

hh

To say NO when it matters, to say what you feel without feeling offended about offending anyone, to pursue what you want by channeling all your emotions into what you love is perhaps the most difficult lock to unlock. It is a battle. Every day.

 

And, I happened to realize what unlocking emotions lead to, when we just give them a chance to express. That is what this post is all about…..

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The start of this year began on unsettling notes for me. With the son embracing his new year with measles, with my dad going through a surgery at the same time while I was very far far away from him, with the fauji husband on duty battling insane cold in some rough terrains and, with me who for the first time clung to her phone as if it were a lifeline because my mother needed my physical presence but, she had to do with hearing my voice, 2018 had a shaky start for us.

And, for the first time in life, I felt the pinch of distance. Those days in the past one month moved like a snail. Sometimes, i would simply sit on the porch of that guesthouse in the far far East and, look up and wonder….why? why? Is there no respite?’

To stare blankly at a mulberry worm or, at the blue sky view laced with the greens of the thick canopy of trees felt like applying a soothing balm on my bleeding headspace. Every time I walked and looked at the snow capped mountains, I wanted to lock the image in my head safely so that i could remember it whenever I wanted…..Mountains have that effect on you…..you realize you have seen and felt the Almighty by the mere sight of them. And along the way, there was this beautifully painful lesson I learned….while I stayed there….

“Sometimes….you just got to wait. You just got to trust the universe. You just got to train your mind to act sensible and, not sensitive.”

How difficult can that be?, I wondered in the years before. In my carefree days, my father used to advise the same at every given chance. However, it is this year I comprehended his words in its truest sense……

How difficult can that be? Answering that feels difficult too. But this is how it felt.

It felt like being stretched to your limits. And, while you struggle to touch the unfathomable limits, you also meet your doppelganger in desperation that would do anything to set things right again. It is as though we all have a selfish side that wants to universe to listen to it first. It is like becoming the prehistoric human who is frenzied about solving his issues no matter how they ought to pan out.

And, it was in that first week of this year, when I was at my lowest self. With an unwell child to take care of, my heart was racing fast because my thoughts drifted towards my unwell father and my strong willed mother who were tight lipped about their state for a long time.

And then, I looked at my son. Despite running a very high fever for three consecutive days, despite having sores deep inside his throat besides the exterior, despite not being able to have food and water normally, the boy was busy doodling. The images were not easy for me to understand. There were animals, trees and, a lot many images that were explained to me later. The rest of the time, we spent watching movies together….and it was as if the boy had prayed to the Universe for Jurassic movies and each day, there was one of the series that would be premiered.

That moment was as though the Universe was forcing me to think, think deeply over my purpose, how I must battle my indecisiveness  and, how I need to lift myself up when I don’t have people to do that for me physically. And, I took the son’s cue and began to mindlessly doodle in a notebook that I had bought ages ago to prepare some notes….

I am not even sure how time flew. It felt as though the noises in the head fell silent for a while. I wondered if this is what people know as meditation when the thoughts arrive at zero? In all those years when I would compulsively sit to meditate and, do breathing exercises, my mind would feel trapped in a closed glass case with a million fluttering butterflies. And now, when I began doodling, I felt the glass case shatter to pieces but, the butterflies were still fluttering around however in harmony.

If I learned about the incredibly dark powers of fears in the past, I also comprehended the enormous strength in the subject of abstraction. When I finished my first doodle, I had whatsapped it to my husband and my parents. After feeling pleased, both ended up asking me the same question – “what is it, actually?”

And, me being me who did not know answer to that either, quipped – “you don’t have to make sense of things always. Sometimes, just enjoy the chaos and let it be.”

Something I learned from my first grader son.

But there is one thing more I also learned stumbling through the phase….

“You may forget to ask the Universe what you need. That is perfectly ok. But, NEVER FORGET TO THANK THE UNIVERSE LATER when you get the things you need at the right time…..”

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Well, I am with my parents for a while now and, am trying to be more a help and less a pest. I assume, they see me as a help. That said, the juggernauts still lie ahead in clusters. And now I know, I need to channel my emotions somewhere lest they take a toll on my health.

So, when I tried….I have to admit (If I may add a bit of child like pride), that I actually surprised myself. What rambled out of my head fetched me ‘wows’ from many of my well wishers. I really did not expect any kind of feedback because I never considered myself to be an art person at any level. Even during school days, it was my mum who would do the colouring, painting and supw work for me, not because I was averse to it but because, I was horrible with these things then. So much that my mum could not see her only child failing miserably in arts while the only child aced Math and Science! And, after all these years, when I surprised myself with something, I felt I could not thank the Universe enough for making me unlock something that was dormant and NOT non existent!

I do not know where these roads shall take me. But wherever, the Universe leads me to, I have decided to trust it.

As I end this post, I shall share what I felt when I finished my first doodle…

When times were rough, I fell on my knees…….

The paper and pen beckoned me and, they loved me back as me…..

Sometimes, we all need to unlock those emotions to flow like an unrestrained river but, calmly. The results are surprising.

By the way, this is my first doodle. Definitely, it is not the best to a critic’s eye or, even to an amateur like mine. But, this is what gave me the confidence to take my steps ahead. And so, this is what I have decided to share.

my first doodle

P.S: I have made a few since then though they are shared on my page on FB which is not visible to all.. So will be creating a blog for my doodles in future. So, stay tuned. For more 🙂