What a mother wants...

What a mother wants is to be a mother. What she wants is to make a difference. What she wants is for her children to do well in life. What she feels is their pain in her heart. What she does is take on the whole world for them, and will stand like a tigress at the first sign that anyone is troubling them, or misusing their effort or obstructing them. She does not hesitate to wear her heart on her sleeve because her heart is no longer with her anyway!

And she feels the pain and the tears and the laughter and the pride as raw emotions. These cannot be felt by anyone else. No one else can ever feel the same way- because she carries it inside her gut and inside her soul. This goes much deeper than just the heart, or the head. It goes deep into her soul and stays there for eternity.

Infinity is nothing as compared to the weight of all that she carries. She cries lonely tears, and feels an anger so deep that it cannot be measured. She will stop at nothing nor will she be stopped by anything. Her children have to win. Even at the expense of being hated for her effort. The weight of being a mother is not simply in grazed knees and fevers soothed. It is not even only in the medals won and the applause received.

It is in the occasional, "I hate you, mom!" It is also in the more frequent "I love you, mom!" It is in the fibre of her life. It is in the tapestry of her breath.

So what does a mother really want? She wants for her children to be the best they can be. And she will accept nothing less. She begins to expect The Universe, and The Gods and Destiny herself and even her own children must deliver. Nothing less is possible. The expectation sets the standard to which she compares everything. She compares her own effort and that of everybody else only to that expectation. She measures everybody and everything only on the standard of her expectation... and when that is not met- it is simply not good enough.

She does more, and more. She wishes and asks more and more from everyone because she will not accept anything less, and will not tire from the effort.

She looks on- the tea at the table. Perfect, like her children. She looks on- a perfect brew- deep orange and golden yellow, thick and full bodied tea. The aroma itself is enough to refresh anyone. It gives her immense pleasure- almost a sense of pride. She had a role in this. It looked great and smelled wonderful. But, she needs to add some sugar.

The necessity to add sugar implied a deficiency. All of a sudden, that great tea was reduced to great tea that needed sugar. All the other great qualities became insignificant. Putting in a spoonful of sweetness would make the tea perfect. But we're human! And because we are human, we MUST make sure. So- we stir. We stir up a veritable storm in the tea cup. The whirlpool in the cup goes deeper and deeper and the edges rise higher and higher. Soon, the tea spills over and the family appears to be losing its coherence and togetherness.

And in our wisdom we try harder still. We get hurt. We bleed. We do not give up.

But... in that pain, and in that agony, the best thing to do would be to stop stirring. To stop. And to wait.

To wait for another, "I love you mom" before you give up.

And a mother never really gives up. No matter what.

NaNoWriMo

I have been wanting to write for so long now that it is no longer funny. I read like a house on fire- one book on the bedside table, one in the bathroom, one in the car for those inevitable red signals that I must stop on, and one even for the office. And not to forget one in the Purse! (What if I have to go somewhere I do not usually leave a book- I must have one on my person!)

Then a few years ago, the man who loves me, my husband and my greatest strength (That paradoxically also makes him my weakness!) threw a challenge at me. DONOT BUY ANOTHER BOOK BEFORE YOU WRITE ONE OF YOUR OWN. And I did!

But I did not know how to query it. I did not know how to publish it. I could not find an agent who though about my book and not his pocket. I tried half-heartedly for a while, and then gave up. I told myself that it was enough that I had written a book.

On one of the writing support groups online, I came across a wonderful person who became a great friend. It turned out that she is also a publisher and she had helped shape my manuscript from a raw draft to a readable final copy. She knew my characters even better than me! (Well... may be not!! ;-) )

She asked for my ms. She said she would love to publish it. We tried for nearly two ( may be even three years) but we could not figure out the financials across the oceans and on two different continents separated by timezones that I am still to count.

Finally, we decided to part gracefully. Hopefully, we are still friends.

Long and short- I have written one novel that has been difficult to publish. Faced an extreme case of Writer's block the past few years and then, on November 1 decided- It has to be now.

So.. helloo!!! NaNoWriMo!!!

I started writing without any idea what I was going to write about. But I am writing. EVERYDAY. And loving the recaptured Muse.

Thanks! Your story is INSPIRING!!!

So I write for myself. And for the man who thinks I can. I also write DESPITE not being able to find a publisher. I write for the love of writing.

He was all of four years old!

This little boy came in with his parents. He was small - very small.

He was four but looked barely more than two and a half. He was thin and wiry and hesitant. He hid behind his father as he came in- that should have warned me. But it did not!

We always must learn- learn to be in THE moment. To observe. To simply breathe and let the air and the light wash over us. But... we start to make our own stories and create our own interpretations. We must make some decisions, some judgements- before we even consciously identify any facts of the matter. Then we spend the rest of the interaction justifying our baseless judgement. 

How can we do that? We- who are supposed to be intelligent and observant creatures- and the creatures whose power of observation really must determine the quality of life of any soul who walks in through the doors to our chambers. We- the doctors!

But... we learn. We stop. We take stock once more when confronted by new or different information... I did, too.

The father began to speak. And the boy sat quietly- much too quit for the terrible twos or the frustrating fours!

"His speech is not clear." Simple enough complaint. There are not many things that can go wrong here. So I carried out my preliminary examination- tongue fine, teeth good, muscle tone fine, even the ears great. No reason the child should not speak clearly.

Another alert! By now, I was better placed. I was PRESENT IN THE MOMENT... to the child. My eyes were on the little fellow. My ears were eager to hear what he would have to say. I needed a speech sample to move further.

He started moving and placing his tongue unnaturally over the lower teeth and into the back of lower lip. No matter what I tried, the tongue would not really make the excursion through the various parts of the mouth for speech clarity. All the sounds were jumbled and warbled. One phonetic group was completely substituted by the other. Then, there were sounds that defied definition. He could not even enunciate his own name- poor baby!

By now, alarm bells were ringing in my head. I turned to the parents. And told them that the child seemed to be terrified of something or someone. And that the would need not only to work on the physical world of the tongue gaining more flexibility and movement but also his mind being more playful and able to be the child he could be.

I turned back to the child, "Dhruv*!, Are you afraid of anyone?"

I have noticed that direct questions work better than indirect ones in these situations. That the children are no different than adults except that they have fears that overwhelm their little minds much more readily than adults can imagine. And that they MUST speak what is in their head- and they often do- to be free. They can BE free- easily. 

We must learn the art of acknowledging our fears from the little ones, just identifying the fears loosens their grip on our life.

He looked at me- with eyes wide and unblinking. A tear formed at one corner. And then a torrent started. All I could do at that time was to reach out- and hug the baby. I did. I gently asked him again. "Are you afraid of someone?"

He looked at his mother- sitting across the room- and blurted out. "I am afraid of my mother. She hits me. Very badly. And I do not know why." He started sobbing. Tears were now freely rolling down the cheeks. I did the only natural thing for me to do here. I completely ignored the father. And asked the mother to leave us alone for a while. She walked. In dignity. In stoic silence- her head held high in the wake of a storm that her little son had managed to start.

I asked Dhruv* again. "Do you not think your mother loves you?"
He sobbed, "Not very much. She has more anger than love. She really hits me. "

"But you must be doing something for her to feel the need to hit you," I persisted. "I am sure she loves you and you do not understand." To give this little tyke his due, he stood firm on that shaky ground; the tremors were only for his mother.

No.
My mother does not love me.

Now- being a mother myself, I cannot believe that it is possible for a mother to not love her own child. So I wanted this love deprived child to understand that love can have many faces- some of them may not even look like love. But I could not do that. Instead, I asked HIM- "What would make you think your mother loves you?"

He cried even more bitterly.

I had to press on. This child needed to know how he could identify love. And his mother needed to know how she could love him so he could feel the love. Often we do not even know that the way we express our love is not the way the other sees love. We talk French, hoping to understand and be understood by a person speaking German. It is not going to happen! Not only is one language soft and the other guttural, both are totally different in their soul and expression.

I asked him whether he would feel loved if his mother hugged him like I was hugging him. He backed off. And told me- he would not let her come that near because he was sure she would hit him. Now that is really not natural! I asked him what then would make him feel loved by his mother. He brought up a tiny hand, and lovingly gripped his own jaw between his thumb and his fingers on the other side and said- when she kisses me like this!

How clear can a love language be? Gary Chapman would be proud of that child.

Now it was time to talk to the mother. I called her in. And sent the child and the father out. And I asked her. "Why is your son so afraid? What scares him so much?" Now it was her turn for catharsis. She could not speak at first. Then words came tumbling out. "The atmosphere at home! My husband had threatened to divorce me. My mother-in-law was torturing me. Now we are separated from my in-laws and live separately, but I used to take out my frustration of not being able to find love by hitting Dhruv*. I have hit him very badly in the past. And I realize I have really damaged him. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am so so sorry!"

When Dhruv walked in a few minutes later- he did not have to be told that his mother loves him.

He looked at her and she was crying. He was crying, too.

They both reached out for each other and hugged each other.

And she held his face between her thumb on one side and the fingers on the other... and...

...she kissed him.
Gently.
On his tears.
The salt of his emotion mixing and mingling with the salt of her emotions. The tides rising and falling synchronously. They had found each other. 

And i found myself!

How many times do we try to RULE the lives of our children?

Do this, do not do that!

Speak properly. Now shut up!

Sit down. Stand up. Eat. Wash. Sleep. Wake up. Walk. Run.

There appear to be only commands. Where do those words that the children need to hear as much as us go?

Go back home and say to the ones who matter to you- I love you. You matter to me. I am sorry. I am grateful for being with you. And say thank you. 

Thank the people who make the life you live worth living. 
Thank the Lord for putting them in your life to make it meaningful.

And understand that each day- we must choose. We must choose to live a life worth living, or not.

Understand that the things that matter most cannot be measured. 

That we must find our own love space. And fill it with light. So we are not afraid of the dark. 

True love is forever.

I love you and you love me... And we often wonder what we did that brought us to this! We did not know each other a few years ago. Now we know no one else. We had not the faintest awareness of each other's existence- and now we know no other existence. This is all good. It is all well. And it is as it should be. Yet- there are some punctuation marks that force us to pause and ponder. These pauses make us more alive and aware of that moment which must define a life. They make us more alive in each moment and to each other- complete with flaws and with traits that first got us together. There is nothing else that matters now. There is nothing else that CAN matter now. Only that we are together and we will not have it any other way.

And yet... we must also acknowledge that this is not perfect. I am not perfect. You are not perfect. It is the search that we both undertake that seeks perfection and sees nothing less as possible. Love, they say is blind. no. I assert. Love is not blind. It blinds. Love makes every little flaw and each big one, disappear as if these do not exist. Not that they do not matter. But that they do not exist. However, deep down we both know. We are seeking. And have forgotten to see. It is time to rest our eyes and even our minds. It is time to let our souls awaken from the slumber and simply see what is, not seek what is not.

Will we see each other in this light- just as we are? And will we decide in the depth of our souls that THIS is what we chose? This is the life and the after life that we chose and this is what will bring us the light and the cool breeze in the stark desert of life? This is what will bring the showers and the flowers. This is what will bring the song and the poetry. This is what will be the well spring of life.

We live in each other's awareness. We live in each other's consciousness as the feelings we feel. Not as they are. Not as we are. But as the feelings we each feel. It is time to realise that we are a sum of several things. We are not our feelings alone. We are not our thoughts alone. We are a sum of all the moments that we live and do not even register in our consciousness. We are a sum of all the moments that the Universe has seen prior to us and will see after we are gone. We may be an insignificant speck in the firmament of Life and of Time and we may be THe defining speck without which the pattern of the Space Time just would not be what it is. We are in reality neither one nor the other. We are at once both. This is not very difficult to reconcile with our consciousness; it is only made more difficult by the eyes we look at the Universe with.

In fact, in some alternate Universe we have not even met. We have not fallen in love. We are not aware of each other's existence and know not how much we mean to each other in this one. In this alternate world, it does not matter that we woke today or did not. It does not matter that we breathed the same air or not.

In that alternate Universe the little battle that left us both embittered could not have happened. In that alternate world, the little moment of togetherness that we stole from our day to reinforce our belief in love forever would not have mattered. In that alternate Universe, we could be with someone else. Or still waiting for each other. Or we could have met, and parted knowing this is not to be. But all that would have to be in an alternate world where the laws of our world do not hold. It would have to be a world where we could not survive because the only natural existence for us is to be in each other's love. That would have to be a world where the laws would be completely different. Because any world where we are not together is not a possibility from what we know about each other- even without being aware of the knowledge.

In any world where life exists as we know life to exist- in any world that closely follows our laws- an alternate reality is not possible. It is not possible for any other combination of breaths and moments in a world that we recognise as a world.

So stay with me- and love me tender.

Stay with me and fight bitter battles only as a means to express that undying desire never to be free of my presence. Just as I confess my undying desire to be in your presence in your world and your life.

Love me. For nothing else is possible. The magic is here.

The elegance of being alive, the magic and the mystery of being in love gets overlooked by the business of living and believing there will be better days. Those days will never be. They are here and they are now. They are never going to be in some intangible, distant, unforeseeable future that we are doomed to keep looking for. The elegance of being alive and the magic and the mystery of being in love are defined in each moment we live fully aware that it is THE only moment we live. In each moment a part of our life becomes history. Something that cannot be changed. And in each moment we are at the point where we can define history by making a choice- to observe THE moment.

The most crucial moment of any 'episode' in life is not when that episode happens. The most crucial moment in life's episodes are the moments just BEFORE the episodes happen. In that moment we could fly, or love, or hate or even simply leave everything behind.

But in the mad rush of living a fast paced life- we hardly notice the moments. We only notice the episodes. And we miss the moment of simply BEING alive. The moment that we could go anywhere and do anything. This is the moment when we can touch eternity. This is the moment when we can connect with God. This is the moment when we can finally come home.

And where is really the home? Is it in the four walls that protect us from the blistering cold of bitter winters or from the blistering heat of vaporizing summers? Or is home the pace where we may rest our heads and our hearts knowing that the elements are our friends and we need no protection. That we are one. One with the Earth. And with the Firmament. And it is the place where we discover our own Divinity in love.

And that home is the place where nothing else matters.

Home is the place where we find ourselves because we found us.

Do I hide my feelings?

Trying to post two posts to make up for yesterday. I had severe pain chest and upper abdomen- never felt anything like it before. It made me feel as if all my viscera were going to fall out from wherever they can find a way; and if they cannot, they will strain hard against the resistance that my body's boundaries were posing. It was excruciating and I could not hide it... for once.

We tend to hide how much we hurt, and how sad we are. We do not try to make small of our love and our happiness. We are often afraid to be transparent- because that reveals our vulnerability and our weaknesses. What if someone takes advantage of our weakness? What if someone uses it against us? What if... And we hide it so well, that we start hiding it from ourselves!

But those who know us, and love us- they can see it clearly. When they say it to us- we are not able to accept it, too. By now we believe what we live- the lie. By now our reality is different from THE reality.

And as they say- some of the things that matter most are invisible- gravity, atoms, DNA. Yet they are as real as the chair I sit on, and the machine I type this post on! And these real things, too- are made up of largely empty spaces! How can so much emptiness create so much solidity and tangibility?

No... I am not very good at admitting to me faults- but I am getting there.

No... I am not very good at accepting my shortcomings when they are pointed out- but I am trying to get there, too.

No... I am not very good good at seeing MY invisible- but I am trying to expand my vision- and look beyond what appears to be. I want to reach what IS. And not be hurt by it- any longer!!

And that is what life should be about? No?

How good are you at telling a lie?

This October prompt got me thinking at a tangent... I am not very good at the routine kind of lies... I cannot even lie to save my life- it shows so plain on my face that a blind man can see it! I cannot say that I have completed a project when I have not. I cannot say that I 'forgot ' the form, if I did not! I cannot say I am happy when I am not. And I cannot say I am sad when I am not.

I am an pen book. The pages have bold print. And the rough edges are all worn through from the repeated page turnings. They can be very easily read, and deciphered.

But is that always so?

These are the things that we relate to the external world with. What happens when we are relating to our own selves?

Do we not try to hide our own deepest fears as well as our own weaknesses from ourselves? Do we not lie to ourselves when we try to tell ourselves in moments of utter despair that it does not matter? Of course it matters! WHat ever that IF is! It matters - and that is why we find ourselves in the space where we want to FIND some happiness and some joy. We lie to ourselves again! We tell ourselves that we will be happy once this is over. We will be happy when...

But it never really works out that way. And we lie to ourselves again! I TRIED EVERYTHING! BUT...

And the chain of lies goes on. It is all going on at a level that we do not often recognize. A level that lies just below the conscious- there if just dip in-and not if we just go on.

So... I guess I am very good at telling a lie!

And it is time I caught myself. And stopped myself. And told myself what IS and separated it from what my story about that reality is.

I need to free myself up!

I hate to pretend!

I hate it when I have to act as if I am having a good time when in fact I would like to just walk. I hate it when I have to say I am OK when in fact I am all broken up inside and trying to make sense of things that refuse to be made sense of. I especially hate it when I have to BE fine and happy, when inside I feel like there could be no one as alone as me!

No I do not love acting. I hate it with all my heart and soul. And I wish I could get away from it all.

I hate the fact that most of our actions have to pass through the filter of OMG! What will XYZ think? I am supposed to be happily married with a lovely family and a wonderful job. I also have lovely friends. And all this should make me happy. So I must look happy!

How can we give so much power to a single person in our life that they can break all our delicate china as if a bull was let lose in the china shop? How can we still love that person and hurt so much that we are ready to even lie to ourselves and tell ourselves it does not matter. Of course it matters! It matters that when I need help I do not get it, and when I ask, it is not available. It matters that I must go through life alone. It matters that I am unable to act calm and let the storm blow over.

I hate to act as if I am having a good time, when I am to. I hate to act as if I know I am loved , when in actual fact, deep inside I yearn to feel it once more.

I hate...
I hate...
I hate...

This blog was written for the NaBloMo October. Any resemblance to characters or events- real or imaginary is purely incidental.

God bless a woman who feels with her heart and lives with her feelings to carry her through the storms and tribulations of a frail and fragile life.

I had a severe chest pain in Landmark- and I was thinking this is the worst diaphragmatic spasm I have ever experienced. I wanted to rub it into relaxation - and it further tightened up making me almost double up in pain.

I thought- what can be the worst case scenario? That I will not be missed? But as Sanjay says- once i am gone- what does it matter anyway?

So yes... I hate to pretend that I matter, that I am happy, that ... when I am not!!

What does a face show?

There are faces that speak, and faces that whisper, and faces that simply keep quiet. But all faces can be heard, if only there is a listening ear, a feeling heart. 

The smile that just lights up the corner of the eyes... The Wonder that is writ large on the upturned gaze and the love that flows fro half open lips... But all this is seen, and heard by those who want to see and hear.

There is my face- once an open book for all to read- to see and know exactly what was going on inside my head and my heart. The fear, the apprehension, the love and the adulation, the pride and the sense of achievement- everything was as plain to see as the red blush of embarrassment. In fact, when I used to be upset- my nostrils would flare and deflare- automatically. It was easy to understand that I was going on rough roads. 

Then one day- al my cousins teamed up- and my nostrils were a tell tale give away- they declared to all and sundry- I was the laughing stock! And I was all alone! 

Sitting there on the stairs, I remember crying all alone- and wondering if I could ever belong! Then came my grandmother- grand and royal. Her presence was at once overpowering and protecting. It was as if she had picked me up in her hands and cupped them to hide me from the cruel world! And she told me somethingI rem,ember to this day- "No matter what- a warrior does not shed tears. No matter what a warrior does not give up. No matter what- a warrior goes on- And you are a warrior. "

And then she looked at me tenderly. Sat down beside me. And said it once more- "No matter what- a warrior goes on. And... You are a warrior."

And then she explained to me why it was alright to smile when you wanted to cry, why it was alright to go on when you wanted to stop. She told me I was different from all her grand children- and she said it with a certain pride that can be felt not described. She touched me on the shoulder and told me to remember that I was the only one who could help anyone I chose to- including myself. She told me to remember that I could choose to be weak, or vulnerable- but only to myself. And that the warrior in me was stronger the any she had seen in her life. That I needed to respect that warrior, that I needed to trust that warrior, that I needed to BE that warrior.

There after- it became easy to not let my nostrils flare when I was upset. It became easier to hide that I was hurting when I got hurt. It became easier to be myself INSIDE and not let the world in. It was easy to become opaque, unreadable, and strong.

Today- I can choose to be the open book, or the closed one- on demand. 

Today, I can choose to be the warrior, and the woman who is not afraid to show her emotions. 

Today I can choose to be anything I can be...

In a moment.

It is that moment that opens the doorway to eternity- the moment just before anything is about to happen. In that moment anything is possible- to read, to be read. To see, to be seen. To understand, to be understood. To love, to be loved.

It all happens in one instant. In one moment. 

Of being myself.  

The sun hides behind the clouds, too!

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

The sun hides behind the clouds. And we see neither the light, nor do we feel the heat. The basic nature of the life giving force of the start is to shine. It still does but behind the clouds. But the sun keeps on shining!

I have to then, wonder... whether it is the sun that hides behind the clouds or the clouds that try to cover the sun? The clouds loom and swirl and hide anything they can cover. And then- in the next whiff of air- they blow away, and leave behind a clear, unmasked, bright day.

We do the same with our days, and our faces. We do the same with our hurts and our pains. We do the same with our deep inner feelings, and our shallow superficial looks!

We hide behind the mask of being happy when we are upset. And we wonder why no one can see that we are upset and hurt! We hide behind the mask of being strong and self sufficient and wonder why we are not nurtured and cared for! We hide behind the mask of being busy and wonder why we are alone. 

We hide? And the sun keeps on shining... 

We hide? And the clouds blow away...

We hide? And the skies become clear...

We hide? And the masks come off!!!!!

We think we will be safe if no one realises just how vulnerable and fragile we were in that moment. And then- the mask becomes our face. It becomes us. At least for a little while. 

We soon get tired of being strong. 

We soon get tired of carrying a persona that is not us.

And we take it off- and we find a clear, pristine lake of placidity, and peace in being who we are- at least for some time! Because even this is not who we are- are we? 

We must change from moment to moment and from persona to persons. We must grow. We must nourish our spirit to BE and to find itself. We must recognise that what we observe today- if we observe at all!, is simply one aspect of us that covers so many others that it takes on the role of the clouds trying to cover the sun. We forget that we are still shining, albeit behind a cover. The world cannot see the glory, not feel the warmth unless we constantly keep peeling off the layers. 

And we peel off one layer- only to see another one underneath. 

Life is a game- we must play several roles in it. Each has its own face. And must pass into the next phase to allow the spirit to grow. 

Life is the onion- which when peeled reveals several layers- each with its own cover. And which makes us cry, sometimes with a smile at the irony of it all! 

Each morning that I wake up and look at myself in the mirror, I find a person who is different from the one who went to bed in my body.

This woman must apply the lipstick well today because she needs to brighten up the day. And this day- she needs to just let herself float in the whiff of the perfume. No colour today. Another day- the sun appears too bright outside- so she must apply the proper sunscreen. What are all these? Masks? Are they not?

And they appear so real that appear to be us!

All my life...

All my life, I thought being strong could help me get through life. So I became strong!

All my life I thought, being strong alone would not get me through places that needed me to work really hard. So I started working really hard.

All my life I thought that being strong, and working hard alone would also not get me through areas that needed me to be careful. So I became very careful, too.

And I did not even realise I was being strong, and hardworking, and careful! 

I was doing so well in life that there was no reason to examine why and how the life was going so well. If it is not broken, don't try to fix it!

But being strong meant that I could handle whatever was handed out to me- I needed not to be cared for or loved or cherished. That was a lonely place to be. Often I felt -and still do- that I need a shoulder to lean on. Rest. And even even cry- if I feel the need to. Sometimes for no reason at all- I want safety, and love. However, because I was so strong that I needed none of these tender caring moments- I never got them! Infact, there have been times when my husband has turned around and said- You will handle it. You are strong. THEY ( whoever that may be!) need help. They cannot manage on their own. And it felt sooooo unfair. Being shown the mirror was so liberating that I could breathe again! I realised that I could be strong and could be weak- as I was. Not because I had to be. If I was hurting- it was ok to say so. If I needed to be cared for- it was fine to ask for that, too. And it was ok to be weak, too. If that was how I felt in any situation- I need not work hard to BE strong. I need not pretend.

And I did not even KNOW I was pretending!

But moments of weakness call upon us to cultivate strengths that go beyond being strong! They required me to be HARD WORKING. They needed me to be resilient. I would not go beyond my own strength and work. Like no one had done before. That was ok. Infact, I developed a very keen sense of how I got anything at all that I got. I got anything only with hard work. Once in a conference, I was practically forced to participate in a lucky dip! And as I drew out the 'prize' , I knew deep inside it would not work. And it did not! It was a torch that never lit up! Not with a fresh pair of cells, not with any other means. I smiled and said aloud to myself- "I told you so!" Whatever I have- I have worked hard to earn. WHile for many things in life it may have been the only way to get my due- I was so ignorant of so many gifts thrown practically into my lap that I could not even that the Lord above!

And I thought I was grateful to God for what he had given me! In the same breath I was proud of having earned every little bit of it!!

But the final straw was realising that even when I was always so strong, and hardworking, even when I was so correct and so caring, I could be misunderstood. And in that moment of being misunderstood what stood out for me was not the fact that I could hurt- I was strong, after all to handle that hurt! What stood out for me in that moment of being misunderstood was the fact that someone ELSE would be hurt by their presumptions about me!! I could not bear the fact of being the cause of hurt feelings with anyone who interacted with me.

I knew how it felt to be hurt. By God! I knew how it felt to be hurt!

So I was extra careful not to hurt any one. Then being extra careful just became a part of my nature. Speak less- you could be labeled something you are not. Try to defend somebody who cannot stand up for himself. But when you do- you earn another epithet! So measure every step you take and every word you speak. Not only can anything you say or do be used against you in the course of life- it can also hurt feelings and emotions of those who matter to you. And gradually that circle of hurt feelings expanded. And anybody I came in contact with became important enough for me to not hurt in any manner whatsoever. At the same time I felt so unjustly treated by everyone! I was so good to everybody! Why were people not treating me as nicely!!??

Being strong conveyed even to those who were my flesh and blood that I could take care of myself- that I need not be cared for!

Being hard working conveyed to everybody that I would do everything in my power and then some to complete anything expected of me. And I would set out to do EVERYTHING myself! Even somebody else's work!

Being careful- especially to not hurt anyone's feelings- I was responsible for EVERYONE'S happiness. And no one was responsible for mine!

I was so alone! 

And despite knowing in my head that I was loved, I was so not feeling the love!

Today- as I stand in a new space, under a new light, I realize that all this was of my own making. Unconsciously. But my own doing. Whatever I got- or failed to get in life was because I decided to be a certain kind of a person. And that I can be different.

I can be strong- and I can be weak.

I can be hard-working. And I can let it go. Just relax and rest. I, too need that!

I can be careful- and I can be totally carefree, and vulnerable- completely in the moment- float like a bird. I am not responsible for everyone's happiness. They are!

That knowledge of how I was limiting my own life has been the most liberating experience I have had - ever! And it feels just right. Just light. Just now.

It means I can have a more aware life. A fuller living. And That I am free to BE. A Human Being.

And not only is this feeling so liberating- it is also very empowering. It is extremely expanding!

A new kind of living is available for ANYone that chooses to be aware of their own life- their own self.

Thanks Landmark. Thanks Sumit.

The road...

The road..., originally uploaded by naturewalker.

The road is long and winding.
And I must walk alone.
I see not a soul to share my journey- it must be my own.

And be grateful for the little shade that I manage to get from the trees by the roadside. I may even find a few tiny drops of water dripping down a leaf or a branch reminding me that a Higher Power watches over my lonely journey and cares that I am looked after.

I must place my trust in the road. And in who made that road possible. Walking on this road has to be my choice- one for which I may not blame any one else, any time else. The loneliness- as well the company I find will be of my own making.

I may choose to stop. Or go on. Or go on to a different path. The journey will never end... It will always go on... And it will require a leap of faith at times to keep on walking. Knowing not what lies beyond the bend. Knowing only that a bend in the road does not mean end of the road.

there will be some paths that will be harder- and that may be the reason why we chose them.

So... walk on... And celebrate that you can.

And find along the way some friends who will walk a short distance with us- rekindling a love, reigniting a desire, and then will go their own way. People may come into our lives for a reason, or a season- but they will live their own lives while we live our own. And the overlap will be the time we may remember. The moments we share will be the memories that we may look back on in nostalgia and suddenly find our own world populated by these very people we did not even notice.

Memories have a way of doing that!

Walking down a path and walking down the memory lane can be both challenging and exhilarating. We choose the emotion we must live with. We have the choice what we will make the theme of our life. And then.. we must be faithful to all that lives in our lives and our memories.

Stop- if you must- and rest a while. Because life will not stop even if you do!

And we never really understand that! We do not take a moment to be grateful to whoever sits up there making us go through life and let Him know we notice. That we care!

The earth is cracking up...

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

It is time to weep for the Earth. Not just for this fabulous planet but also for ourselves.

It is time to open our eyes and see the cracks that are so obvious! It is time to open our eyes and let them weep- may be that is what will bring the water that this mother needs to become the Blue Dot - once again.

The brown is stark. And it is frighteningly alone and final. But Nature finds a way to let the life go on. She finds that little bit of moisture which will support a twig of grass and that twig holds on to life and to life force. It generates a dash of green in the brown. It generates life amid lack. It reigns victorious because Life is inevitable.

And as if by design- more twigs come up... and bring more and more life to a barren landscape. The barren no longer looks hopelessly forlorn- the barren looks up at the sky with hope. It begs for the first few drops of water- the tears from your eyes and mine- and then- it plays.
The barren gives up being so.
The barren gives in to being not so.
And life triumphs yet again.

One drop of water.
One twig of grass.
One molecule of life.
One moment in eternity...

The wall

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

This is for Kavitha...

Kavitha is a woman I recently met- and immensely loved... at first interaction. Committed, serious, passionate- and somewhat experienced in the field of human failings!

She says in a recent FB post that she hit a wall... And my reply to her- actually even to my own self! started so-


The quality of your life is really determined by the size of your problems! Taller the wall- the more you will have in you to be able to climb over. Climb over- friend- the world is bright and sunny behind the wall. The wall may caste a shadow but that is not the whole world! Not even a part of it really. Breathe... heave..

And then I realised I wanted more space. I wanted to say more. I needed to say it to myself. I needed to tell myself that walls are meant to be climbed.

There may not always be a flight of stairs right alongside- conveniently and invitingly beseechingly- even- demanding to be scaled.

But Kavitha should know about that one!

She is an Ultra Runner!

And she is an Ultra liver!!

Really. I could fill volumes on what she has seen in life, and gone through. But it is not about that, is it?

It never is!

We live our lives in a world of our own making. We attach meanings to moments and to words. We feel sad quickly and take eons to 'find' reasons to be happy. And then... the happiness is short-lived!

We forget!
We forget to celebrate life!
We forget to tell the people in our lives they matter.
We forget to tell OURSELVES that we matter.
And we wonder!
We wonder what happened to the magic we believed life would be when we were small children.

I did!
I ALWAYS believed my life would be MAGICAL. It would be full of significance and of love. It would matter to each person I touched that I had touched their life. I would give freely. And...
... I became a doctor.

The most wonderful thing about being a doctor is you do not have to look for significance in your life. You live it EACH day!

And then...
We forget!!

We forget that we are living a rich life full of giving and receiving, full of love and emotion, full of people to whom we matter and who matter to us.

WE HIT THE WALL...

I HIT THE WALL...

I hit a wall in my fitness goals.
I hit a wall in my career path.
I hit a wall in my running.
I hit a wall in my...

STOP!!
We all say best what we need to hear most! The lessons of life will be repeated for us till we learn what we must from them! THAT is the design of life.

I started to say it in response to what a dear friend of a couple of meetings began. And I ended up finding in myself the wall and the stairs. I ended up discovering a spirit and a strength to go on...
To breathe...
And heave...
And keep on going...
On... And On...

The Time Keeper...

We are always measuring everything we do or fail to do by the time we are in the experience. Never is our existence pure and unadulterated experience of simply BEING...

When did we transform from human BEiNGS to Human DOINGS?! It seems odd that the first casualty in the process of living by the clock is our own life. We lose the richness of our life to poverty of moments in it. We forget the whole and divide ourselves into a million, zillion- infinite moments of a life we never did live.

We forget the smile that brought us together.
We forget that first moment that we hold our first born.
We forget the first kiss, the first grip of tiny fingers holding our finger tight- hanging on for dear life.
We forget the first hug, the tiny feet that pattered through our life and our hearts and grew into big ones.
We forget all of that.
And remember the time when our children must begin their own flight.
And remember that we must go on and on... and on...

Because time never stops for anyone!
But- what really IS time?
Is it the rising of the sun and the setting of the moon? Or is it the heart beat and the breath?
Is it the closeness, or the distance?

Is it the rate of living a life or the rate of approaching the inevitable end of one?

And WHY must Time define what and how we spend our days, hours and seconds? Why not 'take out some time' and hold it in the palm of our hand before it slips away into eternity!? Why not let each moment MATTER- not just count but really matter!

We must learn to live and to love. To hold and to be held. To find and be found.
And go on loving and living in the process in a manner that befits a divine being.

And let us really let go of the anger we feel over little and the not so little incidents in life. Do we ot suffer more from the ager itself that from the cause of the anger? Everything has a grand design- even when we are not aware of it- life has a way of unfolding itself. Life will not wait.

Never hesitate to tell a loved one you love them- you may not have another moment!
Never wait to make a difference- THAT may be what you came here for!

Life is precious. PERIOD. The moments do make it rich- but the wealth is not in the moment but in the mind of the person living that moment.

To a rich, fulfilling life...

The fly on its back

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

This fly fascinated me!

It landed on its back on the floor, and started to try to straighten itself out. It needed to get back on its feet. It did the only thing it knew how to do. It flapped its wings HARD.

Flapping its wings while being on its back on the floor obviously did not work!

The fly started spinning. The spin was dizyzying! It was os fast that I could not see the tiny wings. I only saw the body, and that too- in a blurr! But it could not staighten out and find its feet again.

Then... the fly stopped moving. Absolute stillness. It was as if the world had come to a stand still. And in a way- for the poor creature- it had! The fly was probably exhausted from the effort. And she (?) did realise that the present way of doing things, namely flapping wings was not working.

I have found myself telling my colleagues, my children and even myself those famous words-

If you keep doing what you are doing, you will keep getting what you are getting.
If you want different results, you must do things differently.

This seemed chillingly true for the trapped fly. It would have to do something other that uselessly and hopelessly moving its wings. It had to get back on its feet doing something else- or it would die of exhaustion. Suddenly- from a mere fascination, it had become a life and death issue!!

And I realised- Nature is not right or wrong, good or bad. It simply IS. What we do- we reap. There is no other way.

People were talking around me. I could hear the conversation but not the content. The buzzing of the fly overpowered all other sensory input for me. I could, if I wanted even identify that the fly was about to make a breakthrough. It had to. Its survival depended on that.

And... then... all movement ceased. The room suddenly went quiet. The buzzing stopped, too.

The fly was dead.

How many times do we make the same mistake?

We exhaust ourselves doing the same ineffective thing again and again, and yet again. We are willing to give up our life but not our way of being. We will flap our wings uselessly till we die but we will not try anything new or different. Yet- we blame God or Nature or Universe for not giving us something new or something different.

Today, listening to a great speaker speak about creating anew life, about exploring new possibilities- and seeing the fly die doing the same thing she does -always- I resolve- to give up an old way of being that does not allow me to find my feet when I land on my back!

I resolve to change the game, if the game I am plaing is not working!

Would you?

When did this start?

What is THE first tangible memory you have?

I have asked this question of many many people. Saniya, my daughter has been the most forthright and said- mom, everything that people talk of as beinig a memory I know only from the photographs of my childhood. But she is still young. And will gradually learn to recognise these moments.

THE moment in which life gets defined... and redefined!
THE moments in which we discover ourselves ... and lose ourselves!
THE moment in which we hear and see everything... and become blind and deaf to all!

It is these moments that we need to be alive to! It is these moments that make up our life. And we forget. In the daily grind of living, we forget to simply BE.

So... I shared... My first tangible memory is of a stage when I did not yet have language. And there are no pictures to coroborrate what I lived at that time. So, I do not know this from photographs. And I reconfirmed with my father about the veracity of my memory. It is true. It did happen. And it happened again and again.

This goes back to when I was about one and a half to two years old. we had a roof top in our home that could be reached by a ladder like stair way, no side rails. The roof top itself did not have any railings or guards. I do not even know which house it was, or what we used to see from there or why we needed to be up there! But... each evening, my father woudl carry me to the roof top, and leave me sitting there. Then he would go down and carry my brother, and leave him in my lap. My father had the utter confidence and sheer faith that this was possible. That there was nothing like fear. That nothing ever goes wrong unless we do. And the visceral feeling that he transmitted to this end was poerful.

So... here we were- two pre-lingual children, one barely two, and the other not even one, sitting and waiting for our parents.

My father would then go down again and actually hold my mother through the steep climb. My mother was always scared of heights and the roof top was not a friendly place for her. My father taught me that those who do feel fear MUST be helped to understand that it can be beaten. He did not have to say it and I was too small to have understood the words had he said them. I felt them in my gut and my mind. I have lived them ever since. Anyone who feels a fear can be made to understand that it can be beaten.

 And despite the deep seated fear my mother felt, she let my father lead her up the rickety ladder, with only the held hands as her security.  My mother- she taught me that when you trust someone- anyone, fear becomes immaterial.  Again, she did not have to say anything. She just trusted my father completely. No fear was big enough to prevent her from making that climb- simply because my father was making it.

The strength and the vulnerability always go together. The strength is in being able to stand up despite your fear and take that one step forward. What saves a man- as it is said- is taking one step. Then another. It is also in making the choice of being completely in trust, in that space where nothing CAN go wrong. And surprisingly- it does not!!

Who is the stronger? The one who takes teh responsibility to allow one to experience the fear completely and understand that it can be defeated? Or the one who takes that leap of faith allowing himself to experience the fear fully and live it in THAT moment?

I also realised that my father's trust taught me that I could be strong, and weak in the same moment. Infact- it taught me that I could take care of anyone left under my care.

And all this is BEFORE I formed any language to give these thoughts any meaningful shape.

The events that shape our lives are not always the ones that we remember, and the ones we remember may not have as lasting an impact as those burried just under our consciousness.

The only way, then, to live is to live fully. In the moment. And in complete surrender.

Drifting...

Confused.
Want to write but cannot find my words...
Want to speak but cannot find my voice...
Is there another soul in the whole Universe who will understand the silence?
Is there another person, somewhere who will hear the Unspoken, and feel the unsaid?

There is nothing to say, and yet so much to convey! Nothing?

Here I am... in the grey zone of  'Nothing'. I watch with fascination. I see the last thought flying off. The next one has not yet started to form. Suddenly, this Nothing has expanded to fill my consciousness. When did this happen? The thoughts that used to race into and from each other are now so lonely! They are not happy, or even sad. They are simply too alone to be anything else.

These thoughts that have missed the previous one, and not found the next one to rush headlong from and into, are unusual. And so is the hiatus in between- Nothing!

Everything and everybody is so busy being busy that they have lost track of what they are doing and thinking. They have stopped honouring each thought for its individual meaning. We are so used to the cluster and collection of thoughts always rising and falling in our consciousness that the grey zone of Nothing that the beginning and end of each thought gets lost. It is now- remarkable and unusual.

Can we find that place where everything becomes something and something magically dissolves into nothing?And, all of a sudden, nothing starts its own transformation- going through a vague, ill defined something to a over-arching everything.

The world is a magical place. And it is our thoughts that create the magic we feel. The magic is in the consciousness and in the moment. May be... even in the fraction of a moment.

Often times, these feelings cannot be put in language. They must be felt at a very primal, primitive level. You must be willing to just float- even as you find yourself sinking. The will to be conscious is enough.

People move on.
Those who are the dearest to you will sometimes hurt you the most.
Nothing earth-shattering will ave happened. But your world will have changed.

It does not take a tsunami or a tornado to kill a good feeling. It takes just a harsh word, in that fleeting moment before Nothing to kill the moment. Forever.

And it is these moments that define the life we live or refuse to live.

Is... Anyone...Listening???

Rebirth !

Rebirth....

Life was great. It had always been. I had been doing everything at the right time - finished high school with honours, got into professional college - the best in the region in the first attempt, finished medical school with honours, got into apprenticeship, had my first baby, finished my apprenticeship, got into a great job- and have been there ever since. Oh! And a wonderful intermission - my second child blessed me in this time, too. Life was truly great.

I was, am, good at my work; passionate about my surgical work and skills. I have had the occasion to keep doing good things- like I like to- quietly. On my own terms and with a a lot of love coming my way from both the patients and the hospital staff. I could not ask for more.

Each day I would wake up and thank the Lord for a blessed life- a man who loves me, children who adore me, patients who love me in their own way, people who practically worship the ground I walk on. I also thanked Him for the little patches of clouds He managed to blow into this otherwise bright and sunny life-scape of mine.

We had a major burglary in which our home was completely and ruthlessly ransacked. We lost everything that could be counted and lots more that could not be evaluated. This was the peak of our otherwise fabulous life. Coming back from a conference abroad, with our young children, we found the locks broken and the entire household smashed or on the floor. The clothes that they could not carry away were stained with mango pulp and some other unmentionables. The little idols that had adorned one of our cabinets had been thrown on the floor in complete irreverence to the divine.

We felt violated, and it was not a good feeling.

It took me ten days to just separate our left-overs into those that needed to be dry cleaned, or washed, or salvaged in some way and those that needed to be thrown away.

Till then, we used to, with some pride talk of our respective gold medals. Both Sanjay and I had earned the Gold medals in our specialisations. We were, we thought, rightfully proud of this achievement. We had never been able to earn unfathomable amounts of money. We lived a good but not outlandish life. We had enough and did not want too much more. So these medals seemed to be our 'material possessions' of pride. The thieves did not leave even those little medallions back.

We literally lost everything that we had. And we realised how little it all really meant to us.

We started rebuilding our life once again. With a lot of love and frugality. We kept our children close to our heart and body. We put two beds in one ro gave them the security of always having us around. It took some doing - gradually life came back to normalcy.

I remember all those people who stood by me at that time. Friends who we slept with and who kept the children safe while we cleared all the mess, the hospital and organisation who allowed me extraordinary leave just so that I could come back to work! Everybody was rock solid with me. And my parents who stood by me, who helped me rebuild everything- a physical safe net called home from that ransacked house to the spiritual reality of a family that always is in God's hands- through the most difficult to the easiest of the breezy times it can face.

I learnt my lessons:

1.Love, in all it's shapes is what drives the world. Love we share with our parents and with our children, love that we share with the people we work with and our friends, love that we give out and that we receive- this is the love that keeps us warm on cold winter nights. It can sustain the longest blackout, it can be our life-line when all that we see is bleak, dark, bare, cold winter.

2.Money is important- but only so much. We need enough to eat and put basics in place. No more. It can lull us into believing that safety has a price and that the 'bigger' we get, the bugger the price. And that we must always have THAT much... And that THAT keeps rising with our needs ever expanding. We do not need things to love and be loved. And though we do need to take care of the food, shelter, clothing, education... We must live simply.
3.Everything is momentary- a mere bubble in the firmament of life. Everything. Except the relationships we build and nurture. We are born into a family. That is a given- though there are many who may not be able to find their bliss in this plan of the Gods above to teach us our required life lessons. In the end- it is family that must get into the boat or swim together. And we will do anything, we must do everything to keep The Family together. God put us together for a purpose. Till we are alive, we still have work to do. Together.
4.Friends are brought into our lives because the family can have only so many people and no more! God brings our friends to expand the circle of love around us. He brings all the people who can and will do anything to keep us afloat. Through thick and thin, through rain and storm, through sunshine or deep, dark clouds. These are our extended family- people whose souls feed ours and whose hearts beat for us.
5.Things... Are just that- things. We need not clutter our life to give a meaning to it! And the less clutter and belongings we have the more open spaces around us can soak in the energy of the universe- and the more we can soak in the same energy. We run the risk of getting lost. The forest of things can catch fire any time. And eventually it does. Then, all that you are left with is what you made of your life in terms of the values you lived by and passed on to your children, that you made the yard stick to measure your life with. The only 'thing' that you can lay any claim to at the end of your life is the legacy you leave behind. Something that makes the world a better place for those who follow.

And most of all- this episode taught me that the only life worth living is a life lived with total commitment, passion and dedication.

A life that speaks its own language and tells its own story and builds en epic.

It is a life that really builds a better world- filled with more love, less things and plenty of relationships that build a web that can and often does, hold the entire world. It may do so tenuously but the strings are strong, resilient and form connections. These connections convey the littlest emotions and feelings from one point in space time to any other- anywhere, everywhere.

The monarch effect... Where the flapping wings of a small butterfly in an African forest can trigger a thunderstorm in the Pacific ocean.

The only life worth living is a life that an spark creativity, that can allow people, to be what they can be.

The only life worth living is the one that creates emotion, and tears...

That allows us to smile and cry, and make others do the same around us... Live as if the spark is always alive. Live as if it is a veritable fire.

Live as if everyone is great- and if they do not know it, it is your responsibility to make them aware.

Live fully.
Love freely.
Breathe deeply.
And go on to build a universe that lasts.

Moments...

In life there are moments that we find ourselves looking at the present and wondering whatever di we do to deserve this! THIS!?

There would be many- nearly a hundred percent who would agree with that statement. They would, however, not be in agreement regarding its meaning. They woudl not agree with each other, either!

There would be those who would be grateful for great health and those who are battling disabling disease. There are those who could not ask for more and those who could not be able to comprehend why so little!There would be those who would be proud of their progeny and those who are ashamed... And there would be still others who are still seeking a child to hold and to love. They are the ones who would tell both of teh above that they should consider themselves fortunate to be blessed to be parents. Perspective defines our experience and emotion binds it to our body. The Soul can do better... but is living that experience and trying to understand what it knew but needed to live.

Plentiful abundance and abysmal scarcity are both perspectives we choose to view the world with. They define our world view and shape our life's emotions and experiences.

Why are we so focused on externals? Why are we not, somewhat, if not majorly, focused on our internal milieu? And why do we fail to see that till we shift our focus, our locus of control (LOC) inward, we will just keep seeking... never really finding.

LOC- the major point of control in our lives- after all what is it that we are all seeking? Whether we are running after money or our hunger for knowledge, whether we seek our children or our work- ultimate end point of any effort is bliss, happiness, contentment and satisfaction.

Yet in a perfect world there is scope for change for the better! It is already the best it can be! No scope for creativity, creation and improvement... we cannot really better the best, the perfect!

So... if you are unhappy, it is great place to be. If you are seeking... it is a wonderful search. That is where the road to success, to progress, to growth starts. That is the head of the path. Walking on it or sitting by the wayside and wallowing in self pity and pain is a stark choice- one that is up to us.

We often get so engrossed in our own pain that it becomes something we must cling to , something that makes us feel great and importantabout having been able to bear. We feel proud that we are able to stand despite the pain, that we are able to walk and talk and breathe despite it. In fact, bigger the pain... prouder and bigger we feel.

That is the simplest well to fall into. The easiest dungeon to wlak into. It is suicidal to keep THAT perspective.

We do need to, then, reexamine what we rae really committed to. Whether it is our pain or our fulfilment that is our drive. Andwhat we focus on becomes our life- its definition and its reality.

Fulfilment? Fulfilment is the art of a life well lived. It is the deep seated feeling of having done something meaningful- something that might survive beyond us, that might outlive us. Tony Robbins famously defines it by the acronym of art because it is different for everybody.

We would always need to remember that Success must precede the fulfilment, but need not ensure it. there are many who are wildly successful and yet, deeply unhappy and depressed even. The converse, however, is not an option at all! You can not find fulfilment without success. We all gain our sense of self worth in a moment of creation... in a moment of immortality in a mortal life.

That requires a constant shift in focus and a constant reminder of how great a life can be. We must create role models not only for our children but also for ourselves. Someone has famously said- if your mind can think it, your body can do it. And if you face challenge, your sense of self worth will be that much greater having achieved a worthy goal.

Live as if the only thing that matters is how you spend the next ten minutes or thirty or the next twenty four hours.

Teach as if your head is on fire- with passion and with expectation. If you expect the best, you generally get it!

Live. Learn. Love. Leave a legacy. That is the only worthy goal for a human life.

Good Morning Delhi!

A bus that straddles two lanes, an auto that runs at the speed of thirty in a speed fifty lane, and a maniac in an SUV weaving a meandering course, hurtling at a break-neck hundred on the same fifty road- cutting from extreme left to extreme right and on to extreme left again in a matter of seconds- Good Morning Delhi!
"Get the hell out of my way", said John Galt in Atlas Shrugged. These are the words that flash across my mind. They describe poignantly what is going on here. A power struggle and every body is in it to win. DO they even realise what they are doing?

"Get the hell out of my way", these words come easily to my mind racing to catch up with the display of speed on the road.

SCREEEECH! The maniac slams his brakes noisily. There is a couple on a motorbike cruising at a comfortable 45-50 in the middle lane. Oblivious to the on cming assault vehicle carrying the monster, the rider is maintaining a two dimensional straight line course on the asphalt surface. Straight. Linear.

My heart almost came rushing out of my mouth. My feet instinctively reac for the brakes in MY car! I am a fascinated onlooker. I am going good. I am comfortably doing a 40 at this time. I watch with a strange, detached and yet engrossed fascination all this unfolding on the road in front of me.

Thank God for the automatic drive in the modern day cars! My 'gear' hand rises to my mouth! Please God! let him stop in time. And as if to let me know He is wayching and listening, the SUV stops and veers into the adjoining lane. Is he mad? My mind screams. Is he crazy? He is a hurtling, menacing, careening, crazy bloody driver on the road who is making it unsafe for everyone else.  Why does he not go off-roading to satisfy his inner devil and his need for thrills?

Strangely so captivated am I with this graphic visual in front of me that teh auditory system has switched off! I realise in a flash of revelation that everything else is simply not on my minds radar. The otherwise noisy Delhi road that assaults all senses- especially the auditory with its horns blaring at an angry deafening 75-80 deciBels had been deathly quiet but for the screech of the maniac's breaks.

The couple is safe. The white Chevvy SUV is not on his tail.

My mind breathes again. The noises come back. The traffic light at the junction is red and the line of vehicles is growing. Wow! Whew! Guess what? The SUV has to stop, too. and we must all fall back into the limits defined by the lane we occupy.

Soon enough the light will turn green.

May be this driver will have experienced the fright of having nearly killed someone.
Maybe he will follow a straighter course and will be a more mindful driver.
May be the people on the road will be safe.
May be someone- somewhere  is thinking teh same thoughts I am thinking.
May be someone- somewhere more power than I do.
May be someone somewhere can and will make something different possible.

May be we will be able to slow the time down and we will breathe again.

And we will be able to drive calmly without being boxed in by buses- one ahaead of you, one behind and two beside you on either side.

May be we will wake up to a better world tomorrow.

Traffic traffic all around- not an inch to move

Traffic traffic all around- not an inch to move, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

Where did my post go????

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

I wrote in a flow I had not felt in ages...
I filled out words as if they were being spoken by some hovering over my head. I am sure I saw the green tick mark that signifies that my post is on my blogger page. And I tried going back to it... All I encountered was a blank page! I can wait and see if the post really did get lost somewhere in the cyber depths and will never see the light of the day... Or will it appear on my blog- unbidden and as if by magic?

I will have to. Carefully post this one and see if it really appears, or does this too make the disappearing ac!

I may not be able to pour out all that happened in the last few minutes with my fingers flying on the keypad to catch my thoughts... Those thoughts are at large- they are either far far away- never to be caught again- or will show up where they are supposed to be!

How I wish I had a back up copy! Sigh!!

Sometimes, just when you feel everything is perfect, God spills the milk everywhere! And many a times, when you feel nothing is going right, he throws smiles and angels in your path. He sure likes to play!!

What game is He playing now?

All I want is to catch those words- once more... Will I?

Where am I going!

, originally uploaded by naturewalker.

Watching the road ahead of my car, I felt as if I was driving into the Unknown... I could not see far ahead, and had to trust the faith that the road leads where I want to go.

More importantly, however, I was watching my mindscape...
"That car is going too fast for this fog", I thought. Suddenly, at the next traffic junction, taking out my mobile phone, my mind said "Pranaam" and hit the send button. the next thought I was aware of -"Wow! The air that is bathing my feet under the dashboard is COLD cold." I turned up the heating and relaxed somewhat. And then I caught the next one! "Am I getting late?" I looked at the clock on the dashboard- relaxed again. So many poeople on the road are going too fast for the weather conditions prevailing that it appears somewhat unsafe.

They are all running... So are my thoughts... Red Light- Stop. Green now- start again.

The more you try to slow down, the more you find yourself hurtling through the space time you inhabit and more you realise the futility for the imperative prevailing and dominating our lives each minute we live. You also, nevertheless observe more. You catch more of the moments that seem to otherwise slip into the infinite eternal. And you realise howmindless the running and speeding is. You start to observe the pauses- teh moments BETWEEN the breath and teh moments BETWEEN the thoughts, the moments of apparent nothingness.

The mind begins to launch its own new thought on a new trajectory! But before this thought starts- you have the moment when you CAN catch yourself and anticipate- sometimes with a child like glee- Aah! here comes the next thought.

It is like observing my children waitiing at teh Metro station- you hear the train coming, then you also begin to see the leading head light, but teh train is still eluding the visual contact... And when it becomes visible, the child's face lights up. The smile is pure awareness- totally focussed on the approaching train. And the awareness of THE moment between thoughts, between breaths, between the two trains- can be caught. it does need attention. But it can be caught.

The more you try to slow down, the more you realise the truth behind the statement of how fast the thoughts do travel. Perhaps it is enough to simply recognise the train of thoughts; perhaps it is enough to slow it down just enought to be able to separate them into distinct thoughts- not haze surrounding several of them running into each other without a beginning and with no end. Perhaps if we do manage to slow it down to THIS awareness, we can catch the pauses and make them longer.

The Markandeya Puran talks of the quality of life being decided by the distance between stimulus and response. The longer this distance the better the quality of life is. Longer we are able to sustain this slowin down, the more contentment we find in our life. And yet, we area ll running to catch our own tails. Little do we realise that it is not possible to run forward at breakneck speed and try to catch what is behind us.

We also forget that life is simply a collection of moments- several of them, in fact. And these moments simply fall away into the sea that we have immersed ourselves in. they merge into the whole that makes it impossible to separate and appreciate any one of them. The more the moments we can hold as distinct instants, the richer our experience in life.

We forget that we are here for an experience- the experience that enriches us- moment by moment. we keep rushing into life losing sight of teh fact that we are actually rushing out of it! We are but insignificant dots in the scheme of things- but whose scheme? And what things??

The dog, too runs after each car that races past it. What is he going to do if he does manage to catch teh car? What does he want? Consciousness is the miracle that, for all practical intents and purposes, is uniquely a human trait. Are we not triviliasiing our existense as humans by letting the consciousness slip into a raciing haze rather than teh calrity of stillness? Stillness may not be possible- because teh whole Universe is speeding and so are we with it... but our experience can be slowed down to levels of gentle appreciation and moments...

In the end- what matters is not how long we lived but how deep; not how many instances made up our life but how many we managed to hold; not how much we took but how much we were able to happly give away.

Walking with faith makes it possible to keep walking- even in dense fog.

Walking with those you love makes it possible to hold more moments we want to cherish.

When you cannot... you must!

There are times when the whole world seems to come crashing down on you, or me, or someone!

And we feel like we just cannot take another breath without feeling the pain. We feel
so weary that we cannot place even one foot in front of the other. Walk? Not possible.
We absolutely must sit down.We must catch our breath. Or even simply drift off to sleep- in the desperate hope that things will have transformed while we sleep. Or we will have regained at the least some strength to go on walking. These times can come as we walk in life, or on that mountain trail. They may be proverbial or real.

You know you CANNOT go on... but you do.

When you feel that you cannot even stand, you must make that effort to just take one step... and then one more... And you have told your brain that you could do more than what the brain thought was possible. You 'confuse' the wits out of that consciousness that tells you "no more".

It is the first step which is the most difficult, the heaviest and the one that you are the most aware of. Then, you have taken the step. You lifted your foot and had it hanging in the air for those few moments, not knowing whether it would come down on its own under the pull of gravity or would be under the control of the will you seem to have lost.

That moment is the moment of pure awareness. It is the moment of being totally in the moment- NOW. It allows you to experience extreme vulnerability, and sheer curiosity- what will happen next...

It beats all meditation, all mental training, all physical prowess. Because this moment brings you sharply in focus to the ability of this machine to go on despite the odds, in fact- in spite of them. The body and the mind go on- much more and much better in the face of absolute agony and sheer pain.

And the moment the foot touches the asphalt- you know the victory is in your grasp. You still need to reach out and hold it. And to hold it, you must first reach out with an open palm- supplication to whoever watches from above.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, the exhaustion gives way to exhileration. And the feeling that nothing is unbeatable- not us, nor the adversity. We could not be beaten by the adversity, and the adversity could as easily have taken us.

The last year has been one of several such moments...
When that one step seemed impossible...
When the breath came in gasps...
When the pain and the agony had become the definition of life...
When each moment was a moment of testing and trying..,

And each time, I remembered my father's words- when you cannot take that ONE step- take THAT one step. AND then take another. And then count in tens to yourself. Keep small targets. With each achieved end, you have a new beginning. You can leave everything behind. It does not matter. Because this is a beginning of the new ten steps. We often walked as young children kilometer after kilometer of ten steps, and ten more and then ten more.

That really is the secret to living through the difficult times, too, is it not?

It is when you just cannot- that you MUST!