tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5559631775286885312024-03-12T21:40:50.381-07:00Leave It Just UnsaidArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-1244857975440464352021-03-16T10:41:00.006-07:002021-03-16T13:51:42.776-07:00Innocence<p>Kiss your children tonight</p><p>For tomorrow by this time</p><p>A little more of the innocence </p><p>In this world would have been lost</p><p><br /></p><p>It has been in the throes of death</p><p>For a good while now</p><p>But lately the cries of agony</p><p>Have been piercing through the night</p><p><br /></p><p>Even as death set its claws</p><p>The first piece chipped away</p><p>It flailed and wailed for help</p><p>But too busy we were to listen</p><p><br /></p><p>You were not the one who killed it</p><p>Certainly, neither was I </p><p>But in good faith can we say</p><p>That we never cast a stone?</p><p><br /></p><p>Through that kiss you may hope</p><p>Generations and generations forth </p><p>They may not remember us </p><p>As the ones who let darkness prevail</p><p><br /></p><p>Through that kiss to your children</p><p>Transmit a little love, an apology </p><p>Say, we couldn't stop its fall </p><p>But in it and in you as well</p><p>We shall believe forever</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-4368719720165694072018-10-29T09:00:00.000-07:002018-10-30T18:41:36.118-07:00The Circle of Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to wail, "I am yours"<br />
Hoping my entreaty<br />
Would reach your ears<br />
Across the deserts<br />
Across the mountains<br />
Across the seven seas<br />
<br />
My bleeding heart<br />
Would take succor<br />
In the fact that you belonged<br />
Albeit, to those more luminous,<br />
To those surefooted<br />
Yet, at least, it seemed possible<br />
For you to belong<br />
<br />
I tried hard to draw curtains<br />
Over the fertile valleys of<br />
My heart<br />
Where hope and love were<br />
Jostling to breathe<br />
Not for me, I would chasten<br />
Not for me, not yet<br />
For mine was the path of yearning<br />
And waiting from a distance<br />
<br />
Then, one day you heard the cry<br />
And as is your wont<br />
You moved the mountains<br />
Scaled the deserts<br />
Crossed the seven seas<br />
And just like that<br />
One fine day<br />
You came for me<br />
<br />
"You are mine" you whispered<br />
In my bewildered ears<br />
And all I was worried at the time<br />
As I shuddered and shook<br />
Was how disheveled I looked<br />
Not at all worthy<br />
Of your radiant presence<br />
<br />
You held me close<br />
In a reassuring embrace<br />
And repeated,<br />
"You are mine<br />
Yes, you were always mine"<br />
As I drunk in your vision<br />
At least as much as my senses<br />
Could drink with the heart full<br />
<br />
Then day by day I found my feet<br />
And learned to walk with you<br />
Side by side<br />
I learned to live with you<br />
In you, for you<br />
Reading your heart<br />
Knowing your signs<br />
All that I ever had<br />
Became yours<br />
<br />
Even as I felt this was it<br />
And my heart was now full to brim<br />
And there was nothing more<br />
I could ever wish for<br />
You decided to play<br />
Your infinite jest<br />
<br />
"I am yours" you said<br />
With pleading eyes<br />
Innocent as a baby<br />
Full of longing of<br />
An unsatisfied lover<br />
<br />
I looked at you, baffled<br />
What more could I possibly give?<br />
All that I had was already yours<br />
And I was so content<br />
Doing all your bidding<br />
<br />
Then it dawned on me<br />
The circle of love<br />
Was yet to complete<br />
It was now for me to<br />
Accept you<br />
Just as you had accepted me<br />
<br />
But to accept you<br />
I had to be you<br />
Glorious and infinite<br />
All encompassing and unalloyed<br />
There could no longer<br />
Be a me and a you<br />
It had to be only you and you<br />
From now on<br />
<br />
I smiled knowingly<br />
As I understood<br />
It was now my turn<br />
To move those mountains of ego<br />
Scale those deserts of doubt<br />
And cross the seven seas of self<br />
It was now my turn<br />
To come to you and embrace<br />
And whisper in your ears<br />
"You are mine"<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-80625691555596878242017-07-29T21:04:00.000-07:002017-07-29T21:04:47.385-07:00Prisoners<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The night creeps under the skin<br />
Limbs stiff, eyes wide awake<br />
As the day dawns and alarms blare<br />
The prisoners arise to face another day<br />
<br />
The scramble begins from house to house<br />
The screaming, the jostling, the angry shouts<br />
Half eaten plates, half made beds<br />
Empty homes waiting for the night<br />
<br />
Hordes and hordes of hopes and dreams<br />
Of plans and worries, of needs and wants<br />
Neckbands chafing against the raw skin<br />
Achy feet stuffed in high, high heels<br />
<br />
Pretensions and schemes, defeats and triumphs<br />
Each day continues in a battle after battle<br />
Some lay dying, others are wounded<br />
Bitter, bitter hearts live for another day<br />
<br />
A day when there'd be freedom<br />
A day when there'd be life<br />
A day when fulfillment can be<br />
Savored with delight<br />
<br />
But the day will never come<br />
For the nests will forever be empty<br />
The little birds who seek to smile<br />
Would have flown away forever<br />
<br />
The prisoners will then<br />
Have count their own wrinkles<br />
The joy of the triumph, the ache of defeats<br />
Will fade away as do their eyes<br />
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Arundhati (July 29 2017)<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-7116755503895117062017-05-15T13:39:00.001-07:002017-05-15T13:42:43.280-07:00Burn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I will stay and I will burn<br />
Even as the heat<br />
Chokes my lungs<br />
Stings my eyes<br />
Scorches my skin with its fiery whip<br />
I will not struggle<br />
I will not complain<br />
I will just stay and accept the blaze<br />
I will stay and I will burn<br />
<br />
Let it come, let it come and have at it<br />
For it will find no fight behind these doors<br />
There will be no cries, no wailing for mercy<br />
Neither a queer pleasure in pain<br />
If come it must, it must see a stoic face<br />
A clear mind and no regrets<br />
<br />
Understand this before you balk<br />
Life is burning and burning is living<br />
Burning for pleasure, burning for pain<br />
Burning for love, burning in lust<br />
Burning in desire, burning in fulfillment<br />
Burning in action and burning in regret<br />
<br />
Each of us burns and burn we do<br />
Even as we cringe and cry and complain<br />
Even when we bask in glory and fame<br />
For one day we fear it shall slip again<br />
As we get flung in the abyss of pain<br />
<br />
Up and down, up and down we go<br />
Being dipped over and over in this scalding river<br />
As the ferris wheel turns and turns again<br />
And life becomes a game of pleasure and pain<br />
<br />
What for the fear and why the complaint<br />
When you can just own and accept your pain<br />
Face it in full with your back straight<br />
And let it just burn right in your face<br />
It will just burn and burn itself out<br />
With it, it will take your regrets and doubts<br />
You will then shine and wear your scars<br />
With a warrior's pride in a warrior's heart<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-21289970229634189332015-09-14T09:10:00.001-07:002015-09-14T09:16:23.193-07:00Farewell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My eyes, now and then, turn towards the door<br />
Hoping you will be standing there<br />
My head knows you wont be<br />
And my heart wishes otherwise<br />
<br />
And what are we really?<br />
Not lovers, no we can't be!<br />
Not friends, for time for friendship is past<br />
Not of relation of the blood, for that never was<br />
<br />
This unexplained bond of the souls<br />
So much at ease when with each other<br />
Seemingly indifferent when farther apart<br />
Yet, invariably, bound across distances and time<br />
<br />
One day, at a lark, I tugged at that thread<br />
And you took time but pulled from the other end<br />
Our eyes met, our souls connected<br />
And a glimmer of joy lit up life's humdrum<br />
<br />
Somewhere we knew it won't last<br />
The cocoon of our lives was too hard to break<br />
And we hung against different trees<br />
Waiting for our respective liberation<br />
<br />
Yet there is a modicum of regret<br />
The end came too soon, abruptly and sharp<br />
Perhaps we could've lingered just a little longer<br />
Perhaps we could've peeked into that box<br />
<br />
But may be its better that we did not<br />
Some of life's gifts are best left unopened<br />
Perhaps you were scared, just as I was<br />
That we'll be forced to name the unnamed bond<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-84219863073024795362015-09-11T09:25:00.000-07:002015-09-11T09:25:00.915-07:00Sorry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Seized by the dream<br />
I reached out<br />
And you took my hand<br />
With hesitant fingers<br />
<br />
Our eyes met briefly<br />
And I admit<br />
There was a sparkle<br />
In the way I smiled<br />
<br />
You smiled too<br />
But with dignity<br />
Still bewildered<br />
Struggling to resist<br />
<br />
But I bit my lip<br />
And wound my hair<br />
Around my finger<br />
Just the way you liked<br />
<br />
Then you melted<br />
And burst into flames<br />
Smothered for so long<br />
In the depths of time<br />
<br />
I snapped back<br />
As the heat burned me<br />
Took a sharp breath<br />
And turned away<br />
<br />
You were left behind<br />
Yet again<br />
Picking the pieces<br />
Of what you couldn't have<br />
<br />
I am just so, so sorry....<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-86940869235150863582015-08-18T09:57:00.002-07:002015-08-21T12:41:07.829-07:00Alone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All around me<br />
Alliances form<br />
And I am alone.. alone<br />
<br />
Atoms join atoms<br />
Molecules fuse<br />
But I am inert.. alone<br />
<br />
Its always been<br />
What this is like<br />
For me just to be alone.. alone<br />
<br />
All my life<br />
I have been running<br />
From being left alone.. alone<br />
<br />
But now I am tired<br />
Or maybe just stronger<br />
For I turn around and face... alone<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-71600971263011265462015-07-23T12:39:00.001-07:002017-04-10T09:18:24.315-07:00Wanderer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wandering through the hallways<br />
Wandering through the roads<br />
Knowing, not knowing<br />
The purpose and the end<br />
<br />
Unable to stay unhinged<br />
Unable to be weighed down<br />
Flotsam, jetsam<br />
Wandering in the sea<br />
<br />
Trying to construct<br />
A life, a facade<br />
Complete with dreams<br />
Desires and heartbreaks<br />
<br />
Yet feeling emptier<br />
With each passing day<br />
Jagged edges, frayed corners<br />
Joys and sorrows, all pointless<br />
<br />
So when the time comes<br />
And the curtains are drawn<br />
The wanderer will still wonder<br />
What was this all about<br />
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Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-45745650067190586462015-07-15T07:36:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.009-07:00Unbidden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Again, unbidden, your scent appears<br />And the facade crumbles<br />And scatters on the sidewalk<br /><br />As I stare at you in bewilderment<br />You appear in all your finery<br />Beautiful, naked, vulnerable and stupid<br /><br />Waif-like you stand tangible, intangible<br />And stare at me with the same twinkle <br />That I tried so hard to wipe from my eyes<br /><br />This cannot be. What do I do with you?<br />You, my distant past,<br />You, my bittersweet memory<br /><br />Don't you see I cannot,anymore<br />Embark with you<br />On that mad excursion?<br /><br />My wings now clipped, my fins neatly folded<br />All hint of madness<br />Erased from my eyes<br /><br />I shoo you away<br />And you turn back, wounded<br />A strange resolve building in your eyes<br /><br />You wont leave it, will you?<br />Not until your debt is paid<br />Well you have to wait, and show up again<br /><br />Tomorrow<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-4274991495369090282007-07-01T05:27:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.031-07:00DistancesI leap through days and months<br />Years and events<br />Putting a distance between you and me<br />At every milestone I leave behind<br />A little of your innocence, your passion<br />Your beauty, your dreams<br />And, thankfully<br />Your silliness, your impulses<br />Your mistakes, your blind turns<br /><br />Am I glad that I live as you die?<br />I don't know if I am<br />For once in a while<br />I do see you in the mirror<br />Frozen in time<br />Distances between you and me<br />Merge and shatter then<br />And in that moment<br />I am you again, all over<br /><br />I am glad yet I squirm<br />For I don't want to be you anymore<br />This mad journey has been<br />Just to make it so<br />Yet in this fervent persuit of truth<br />I have forgotten somehow<br />If its I who is the mask<br />Or it was you who had lent the coversArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-88477498276879415272007-03-09T09:40:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.057-07:00Six Billion People In This World; Not A Friend In Sight<div class="clearfix" id="message" style="overflow: hidden; visibility: visible;"> <div id="yiv485191781"> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > A few days ago, I went to the lunchroom around noontime, only to find that the usual lunch crowd was missing. After waiting for them for a few minutes, I opened a newspaper lying close by and began munching on my lunch. After all, eating alone was not new to me. Besides, this crowd with whom I had my lunch comprised primarily of my male coworkers, who, I knew had a habit of disappearing.<br /><br /> </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > In a few minutes, another colleague came by hastily, carrying an enormous lunch box. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />“Where are the others?” He asked.<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > “Oh, I don’t know. I waited for them for a while, but I was too hungry and could not wait anymore. Seems like they are off to somewhere.”<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > “Oh, but I will have to wait for them.” He said, frowning, and went over to the phone to call and see if anyone was around. After trying for a few minutes he came back and sat restlessly, staring at his lunch box. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he made two more trips to the phone, hoping to reach someone, but, apparently, without luck. </span> </div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />“So, are you going to start your lunch?” I asked watching him sigh and sit down on a chair across me. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />“Yeah, I guess!” He said, opening his lunch box reluctantly. “You know, when I find myself alone like this, I get scared. I feel as if there is some action going on somewhere and I am not the part of it. I feel left out!”</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />I smiled and said nothing but, secretly, I was amazed. I never expected an obviously popular man like my colleague to harbor this insecurity. In fact, he was one of the people who were always surrounded by a crowd. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />Maybe it’s not just me, I thought, as a flood of memories came back. I remembered the bitter, lonely teenage years when I was ridden with social anxiety and self doubt. I remembered how I used to torture myself for not being able the gel in large groups the way I wanted to gel. I would compare myself with the others and inevitably come to the conclusion that they had a rocking social life, while I was the one left out. So much so, that sometimes I would suspect, it was some kind of a cosmic conspiracy aimed at alienating me from the world! I used to think, there are six billion people in the world, and there isn’t a single friend in sight for me. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />My evenings used to be spent brooding alone over how pathetic state was. My mornings would begin with a dread of going to the school and facing my peers who were sure to be unkind to me. Eventually, I had built this fear up to a point that it was impossible for me to go out and perform any group activity without judging myself every single time, in every single act. Sadly, while participating in any activity, my focus was more on how I involved myself in the group, rather than how I performed in the activity. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />To put things into perspective, I am not a sociopath. I don’t think I have ever had any habits that might have been annoying or disgusting. In my later life I found out that I have reasonably good communication skills and am told that I have a good sense of humor. In fact, I like being around people. I like to observe and help others and even try to lend an ear in their difficult times. When I am in the right mind, I do come across as friendly and confident. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />But in all fairness, my fears have not entirely been baseless. There has always something different about me and I don’t mean this in a boastful way. That’s just the way I have been. In my entire life, I have never quite ‘fit in’ anywhere. Consciously or subconsciously, I have always been the one to stand apart from the crowd and not always has this been a pleasant experience. Coming from a family of cultural fence-sitters, I was never cast in a mould. I was neither a traditional Indian girl, nor a modern, westernized one. I was neither studious, nor callous. I was neither a vagabond, nor a conformist. I was interested in arts, but was not an artist. I was interested in science but was not quite logical in my thoughts. I loved to experiment with things, but never had the patience or perseverance to take anything to culmination. I was flighty in my attention and unsure about my destination. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />I would tend to get extreme reactions from the people I interacted with. Some absolutely adored me, others considered me distant and conceited. Then there were some who just did not want to have anything with me and others who sought me out. I seemed to make some people uncomfortable in my presence but make others feel secure. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />The reason for my distress, unfortunately, was that I never had a panoramic view of my interactions. I would tend to concentrate only on the negative ones. I would blame myself for evoking negative feelings but never appreciated the way I was when I drew a positive reaction. Later in life, when I began my recovery, the first step to accepting myself just as I am, was, in fact, developing a broader view of life. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />Now looking back, I realize, even during those difficult times, I did have a few loyal friends who stood by me. In their company I would feel secure and comfortable. I was, in fact, incredibly possessive of them at times. As I remember the time I spent with them, I am amazed how these people could love me in spite of my insecurities and mood swings. I feel thankful that these people are still my closest friends and we still share the same kind of bond. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />But, at that time, I did not realize their value. Until much later in life, I never understood that having only a few but loyal friends is far better than having several fleeting relationships. I did not understand that the so-called popularity of many of the people I was jealous of, was, in fact, a mirage. People used the crowd around them as a way to hide inherent insecurities and mutual distrust. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />I tried several things to become popular. I tried to be dominating, pretended to be gregarious and outgoing. I took on many masks to impress people. I tried to feign friendships. But somehow, I think, through these pretensions and masks the internal hollowness showed through. I never had any success with being someone I was not. And all this only exacerbated my distress. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />So what was it that made me change?</span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />I don’t think it was something as dramatic as an epiphany or a eureka moment that transformed me overnight. But, I do remember one day when I sat brooding, a thought appeared in my mind - this has to stop. This is not a way to live and I am not going to live like this anymore, I decided. Whether this was because the scale of my distress had tipped beyond the point of endurance or whether maturity was finally catching up with me, I don’t know. But I knew, from that point on, my emotional journey from being an insecure, self doubting person to being a confident, secure, independent person had begun. However, from that moment to this was a long journey, fraught with several setbacks. </span> </div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />As the determination to change the way I was living became strong, the first thing I did was to take a long, hard, objective look of the situation. I asked myself a few questions – was I really as pathetic as I made myself to be? Did I have any bad or annoying habits? Was I doing something I should be embarrassed about? Or, was there something wrong with the world that I lived in?<br /><br /></span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > It was then that I realized that there was nothing wrong either with me or with the world. What was wrong was my attitude, my way of looking at things. My habit of focusing on the negative and a lack of faith in myself was creating a domino effect in my mind, leading to extreme insecurity and acute distress. It was me and not the circumstances I was in that were making my life miserable. If I was to have any hope of getting over my insecurities I had to work on internal independence. Only when I was independent emotionally would I be able to treat others and more so, myself, fairly. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />A major hurdle to be surpassed was to train myself to stop be judgmental for it was my habit of constant judgment that made me self conscious. This habit of mine was not allowing me to be natural and truthful in my interactions. My self consciousness made me unsure and nervous and I was prone to saying and doing things that annoyed others. Once I started giving myself breathing room, my interactions began expressing my natural charm and loving nature. Even if I made a blunder, I could overcome it quickly. Slowly, gradually, my confidence increased and so did my emotional independence. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />As I learned to accept myself just as I was, an astonishing thing happened. I began seeing other people, not as my superiors but as people just like me. I could see them for what they were. I could see that most people shared the same insecurities as I did. What everyone needed was a little love and respect, just as I needed it. I learned an important fact of life – you would receive unconditional love, only when you are able to give the same to others. Slowly, I was learning the maxims of independence and interdependence and how they were mutually related. </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />There is a long way to go and I still fall into the trap of self judgment once in a while. The insecurities raise their ugly head sometimes. But then I remind myself a song I heard many years ago </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <i> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />Tum besahara ho to kisika sahara bano</span></i></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <i> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > Tumko apne aaphi sahara mil jaayega </span></i> </div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <i> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></i></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />(If you don’t have someone to lean on, be someone on whom others can lean. You would get support automatically) </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" > </span></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 128);font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:100%;" ><br />I hope my ability to love transcends all boundaries so that no one amongst the six billion people in this world can say that there isn’t a friend in sight. For there will always be at least one – me. </span></div> </div> </div>Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-34821059613149406092007-02-15T10:12:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.076-07:00Of Life and DeathSo here I am, back again, admittedly, after a long, long time since I did any sensible writing.<br />Life has changed a lot during this time. First, there was the news of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ammi's</span> death and coinciding that, a new revelation - the awareness of a new life growing inside me.<br /><br />So this is what living is about, bracing death and embracing life! As <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ammi's</span> memories fade, the anticipation of this new life inside me grows. Each day I metamorphose from a young woman to a mature woman and I find out what motherhood is all about. It is not for nothing that women crave for motherhood to the point of becoming obsessed and insane. To an extent, I was all that myself.<br /><br />As I prepare for motherhood, I discover things within me which I never thought were present - patience, forbearance and an ability to give unbounded and unconditional love. I seem to be in love with everything and everyone in sight. There are times when I feel I am a mother to the entire world. I can forgive anything. I cherish everything. Each day dawns with an edge of lustrous hope and ends with a nurturing coolness.<br /><br />There is something new every day - the awareness of the tummy growing just a bit, tiny swishing movements in the womb, appreciating the lustre of the skin and if nothing else, admiring the beauty of my shapeless body and dreaming about a shapely future.<br /><br />It's not entirely glorious for dark clouds of fear hang somewhere on the horizon. Will everything be all right? Will the baby be safe and healthy? Will I be able to face the challenges life will pose? Will he inherit the problems in my life or will he carve his own future in the soft darkness of time?<br /><br />But then this is what it is all about, right? After death came life, after darkness came light, after winter came the spring. The living will have to go on, rising on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cadence</span> to the crests and falling to the depths of the troughs, only to rise back again and again. The game will go on until the players are there and once its time for one of the players to go, a new tiny player will be born to take on the mantle.<br /><br />The saga of life and death will continue to the end of the time.Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-75417387691830730562006-12-22T10:51:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.108-07:00Goodbye AmmiAfter living a long and colorful life of 81 years, you passed away on December 21st - my birthday. <br /><br />Is this just a coincidence that the day of my birth should be the day of your death? <br /><br />Maybe it is, or maybe it was a tribute to the strong attachment we share - a bond which has lasted across decades, miles, generations, and now, lifetimes. <br /><br /><a href = "http://rulda.blogspot.com/2005/01/ammi.html">Ammi</a> you will be missed forever...Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-41877530040476870282006-12-08T17:08:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.122-07:00FreedomIts been so long since I have written that, once again, I find myself stranger to words. Last time I wrote, I was angry with God. In a four line poem, I denounced Him, challenged Him, questioned Him and at the same time, begged Him to be kind.<br /><br />He listened, kindly. Even though he had better things to do than to pay attention to the mindless ranting of a nameless, faceless woman, who probably has no better role in the scheme of things than a mote of dust has in a sandstorm. The mote plays its part in the destruction of the old landscape and re-creation of the dunes, but by itself, it has no identity. Perhaps, it shouldn't have any. For if every spec of dust had a mind of its own, the sandstorm as a whole would have no meaning. <br /><br />But a mind of my own I have. Although, I don't understand he scheme of things. Yet, I find myself being dragged in the whirlwind of this life, thrown this way and that, all the while demanding to understand, demanding to change the direction in which I would be hurled next time. <br /><br />Funny thing is, occasionally, God listens and I find myself thrown in the direction I asked to go. But once I get there, I never know what to do. Then I am as lost as I was before. The worst thing, perhaps, is that either I have to grapple with the fear of losing the place where I have arrived or that place is not what I had imagined it to be. I try to control my destiny, but only to find that destiny controls me. And she is a veteran at the game. <br /><br />Does every blade of grass, every leaf on the tree, every spec of dust have a destiny of its own? And how do they deal with something as "bad" as annihilation of their being? If one leaf falls earlier than the others, if one blade is trampled upon, if one spec is smothered, do they just accept it as it is or do they complain in their own language to the God who created them? Isn't it the nature of the universe to accept what is, as is? Then why should we human beings be any different? Why do we challenge, question and judge everything, all the time? <br /><br />I wonder if, with all our talks of freedom, human beings are the most fettered creatures of all. We are, and since time memorial have been, in the clutches of our own desires and fears.<br /><br />So what is it that would set us free? Acceptance or judgment? Surrender or fight? An ability to die when asked to die or an ability to struggle to live? <br /><br />Many questions these are. But then, am I really free to question?Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-85742720304015670902006-11-21T17:17:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.136-07:00GodI just need a single success<br />You need to thwart a million attempts<br /><br />Won't there be just one time<br />When you'd fail to be watching?Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-47685114854405719872006-11-01T11:15:00.000-08:002015-07-16T11:15:57.150-07:00CycleThe leaves fall off<br />With the call of the fall<br />The blood runs out<br />With last dregs of hope<br /><br />The womb lay still <br />Empty, yearning<br />The cold settles proud <br />On the raw, naked branches<br /><br />Another winter, another episode <br />Of long, frigid waiting<br /><br />And then it just ended<br />Just like it began<br />Even the waiting <br />Had to just stop<br /><br />Life was to be lived <br />Once, once more <br />Little fists had to curl<br />In the once empty womb<br />Little leaves had to sprout<br />With a statement of hope<br /><br />A cycle it was, and always has been<br />The winter comes, so does the springArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-89197453432946931642006-10-03T16:02:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.161-07:00101"So you quit blogging, right?" He said<br />"No! Why would you think so?" Me, bewildered<br />"Well, you don't write anymore"<br />"Of course I do!" <br />"Yeah Right!" <br /><br />Interesting, I have this conversation when this is the 101st post on this blog. A cause for celebration? Maybe! But I have never counted how many posts I wrote. I just found out that this was the 101st post by looking at the dashboard. And now, if one were to measure how many of my posts made any sense, 101 would seem quite a tall number. Right?<br /><br />Writing for me has always been an unconscious activity. Many times I have written and reread my own work only to ask myself, what the hell did I just write? It has never come by force and, like all other aspects of my life, I utterly lack the discipline in writing. <br /><br />Many times I have written in the middle of fixing a tough bug, or even during meetings. Just like that, out of nowhere, words float into my mind and form patterns, these patterns then whirl around and acquire meanings and all I do is just jot them down. How many times has this been an act of volition? I can never tell. <br /><br />I have tried in vain to be a disciplined writer and ended up being a self conscious one. During such writing "sessions" I sit in front of the computer and stare at it for the prescribed duration and then doze off. Not a single word comes at my beckoning but when I least suspect, words come in torrents and continue to come until I pour them out. <br /><br />Some people in this world actually like my writing and many times I have been told by them that I should take my writing further. They tell me I should try to be a published writer. But honestly, I don't know what this "further" means and I have no clue how and why would anyone publish any of this. <br /><br />This is who I am. This is the best I can be. Now if someone decides to publish it, be my guest! You call this lack of ambition? I call this freedom, for words will sprout and take root to form a beautiful landscape only when they are allowed to waft free. <br /><br />So, who should I dedicate this 101st post to? <br /><br />I dedicate it to you, the patient reader and to her - that silly Arundhati, who lives inside me, and who still chooses to dream...Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-33296268658337414322006-09-06T16:29:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.174-07:00How can I ever show you my dear<br />Where is it that my eyes wander<br />What is it that makes my feet dance<br />What is it that makes my lips quiver<br /><br />The silhouettes of dreams that shimmer afar<br />The rapture of the songs that sing in my heart<br />The vistas, the visions of places surreal<br />The road, the journey I am about to embark<br /><br />Can I take you there? Maybe I can<br />Can you hold my hand? Maybe you can<br />But as I get lighter and as you get older <br />In your embrace you will see I will wither<br /><br />But maybe when I go, I will just transfer<br />From the depth of my bosom to the depth of your heart<br />The silhouettes of dreams, the visions of lands<br />The map of the road for a journey afarArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-7073197051640764902006-08-25T14:24:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.184-07:00Silent SurrenderA hunger to deep<br />A thirst so raw<br />My lips so parched <br />My soul so empty<br />Not a thing, not a person<br />Not a place, not a being<br />What is it that I seek <br />To sate this yearning<br />I rise up the crests<br />I plunge in the troughs<br />Then come back to land<br />Emptier than before<br /><br />They say its so close<br />Just look in your heart<br />It shimmers they say<br />In your silent surrender<br /><br />I am yet to know <br />What this silence is<br />I am yet to learn <br />To surrender this being<br />But one thing I know<br />The old shore is lost<br />The only way now<br />Is to swim to thy feet<br />I only just hope <br />One day you will accept<br />All that I have <br />In a silent surrenderArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-168370097419351852006-08-14T14:49:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.194-07:00Virtual RitualsA few days ago, a colleague who sits in the next isle of cubes wrote me an email,<br /><br />“Arundhati, I am observing Laxmi vratam, would you come to my house for the pooja on Friday evening?” <br /><br />“Sure, I’d love to!” I wrote back.<br /><br />“Sweet! But hey, make sure you don’t have your period then…” <br /><br />“Make sure!? How can I make sure?” I wrote, bewildered. <br /><br />“Now, that’s your problem right? Hehehe!!” <br /><br />“Hmph!! I will let you know on Friday.” I wrote, frowning.<br /><br />“Hey, seems like you got mad! Don’t be mad, please. I don’t believe in this too you know, but what if the Gods get angry? So, I don’t think its appropriate! You understand, right?” She got slightly defensive. <br /><br />No, I could not understand this. First, I was annoyed she had written me an email instead of walking over to my cube which is about ten steps from hers. And, second, this period business always throws me off the handle! I could not believe well educated, careerist women like my friend were still hung up on these beliefs. I have always believed that periods are, perhaps, the holiest of secretions of our body! <br /><br />I could not go to her pooja after all. I did not make sure I did not have my period. In fact, it was as if I made sure I that I had it on that day! No regrets, I thought, I’d rather have my period than go to a pooja I did not believe in. But this episode made me wonder, are we following traditions just for the sake of following them or do we really believe in them? <br /><br />In the traditional Indian society, innumerable rituals were celebrated throughout the year. Tradition mandated observing of many fasts and penances, poojas and festivals. If one thinks about these closely, one notices that these festivals and rituals were sequined in the lifestyle of the old Indian society, which was mostly agrarian. In fact, what you eat, what you wear, what rituals you perform, what rules you follow was all based on the current season and the agricultural produce available at that time. <br /><br />The forefathers of the society made these rituals a part of the religion, probably in an effort to make religion part of life. Every festival, every ritual was to have a spiritual basis to it. The feelings with which these were to be celebrated were those of devotion, universal love and reverence towards life. The penances and sacrifices done while following the vratams were to purify the mind and control greed, lust and other disturbing tendencies. The main aim of these activities was to establish harmony and brotherhood in the society. <br /><br />However, in the recent years, the Indian society has undergone a rapid change from a predominantly agrarian society to a predominantly modern one. In time, these rituals have morphed into dogmas. Blind beliefs, caste system and gender segregations have crept into what was once a pure and joyous way of life. The true spirit of religion has been lost and rituals are often followed without truly believing in them. More often than not, these occasions are used to show financial muscle or social clout. Instead of creating a harmony in the society they have ended up creating disharmony. <br /><br />With the rapidly changing social landscape, one wonders, is it appropriate to follow the traditions for the sake of it? How can we tell that what we are following in the name of culture is what it was really meant to be? Do we ever wonder if the original thought has been tarnished by blind beliefs? <br /><br />Although I was annoyed at my friend, she did make an interesting point – what if the Gods get angry, she had said, indicating that God was someone whom we should be afraid of. Isn’t it interesting that instead of love of God, what we have in our minds is fear of God?<br /><br />These days, religion has been commercialized in many places. The other day I had gone to a temple near my house. This is a big temple which houses many deities worshipped at different places in India. In a sense, the idea behind this place is wonderful as it brings us expatriate Indians from various parts of India together and reminds us the we are one people. Many devotees come and worship the Gods to feel peaceful. However, one day I noticed that outside the temple, a priest sat at the counter, collecting money for Abhishekas – a special type of pooja. Above him, a hoarding read, “Pay for Abhisheka of two deities and get the third one free!” They were even offering a discount if one booked the Abhisheka through internet!<br /><br />Really, what is important? This ritual of Abhisheka or the feeling with which it is done? If the feeling is pure, does it matter how we worship the God who loves one and all? And if we do choose to follow the ritual, do we make sure we do it with utmost purity and humility or does greed and commercialism creep in unknowingly? If you are going to pay for the pooja, would you not inevitably think what would give you the greatest bang for the buck? You would want more attention, if you gave a greater donation. You would want a special darshan, a more royal treatment before God. In all this commercialism, the real meaning of the religion is all but lost! <br /><br />During the Ganesha festivals, the idols of Ganesha are stacked in the grocery stores just like the vegetables and spices. Sometimes, there is dust on the idols and even cobwebs around the place where they are kept. People who go to buy them first check the price, then turn the idols this way and that to see if there is a snag. They select the best idol they can get for their money and put it in the grocery cart with the rest of the grocery. The idol is placed in a plastic bag irreverently with dal and rice. It is then taken home and set up for pooja. <br /><br />Seeing this sight in one of the grocery stores made me miss the little ceremony we used to have when we brought the Ganesha idol home. In the small town that I grew up, Ganesha festival would be celebrated in every house just like it was done in ours. Our father or uncles would go to the shop to get Ganesha’s idol and we children would follow them enthusiastically, forming a little procession. Before going to the shop, we would all make sure that we were properly bathed and wearing our best clothes. The feeling we had was as if we were bringing home someone who is very important. <br /><br />“Ganapati Bappa Moraya!” we used to sing, in the praise of the lord, as we brought him home, covered under a silk cloth. The idol was then set it up in a specially decorated spot ceremoniously and pooja was performed.<br /><br />For the next ten days, Ganesha would be the most celebrated guest in the house. The whole household would gather in the mornings and the evenings to sing the praise of the God. The sounds of mantras would resonate through every household in the town, along with the fragrance of incense and camphor. Lord Ganesha’s favorite foods were cooked and offered to him during the pooja. And this food was later consumed by the family in his name. <br /><br />Then, after ten days, the idol would be taken to be immersed in water. As we took out another procession to see off the lord, we would sing <br /><br />“Ganapati Bappa Moraya, pudhchya varshi lavkar ya!” Hey, lord Ganesha, please come sooner next year! <br /><br /><br />After the ceremony, we would come back with a heavy heart. It was as if a dear friend had gone away from us. <br /><br />These days, celebrating the Ganesha festival has become a group activity. Various groups compete with each other to show off their decoration for their Ganesha. Who bought the biggest idol? Who spent the most money? These questions seem to be more important that the festival itself. <br /><br />When I see on TV the lewd dancing, loud music and the fistfights that happen these days in the name of celebration, my mind fills with sadness. Really, where have we lost all that? Where is the love, the simplicity, the humility, the reverence? Where is our real religion?<br /><br />Today we live in the virtual world – a world which is fast losing touch with reality. We email our friends, not talk to them. We send our brothers Rakhi greetings. We use evite to invite people to our parties. We decline these invitations through the same site. We can download pooja programs and follow the rituals. We even visit websites of various temples to pray to the Gods. <br /><br />However, despite this, we have not lost our blind beliefs. Still, somewhere, we believe, I am a Bramhin, I am a Hindu, I am a Muslim, I am a Catholic. All we want to prove is that I am different from the other, that I am better. Just like everything else in our life, our religion, which is, first and foremost, being human, has lost it’s reality. It has become virtual! <br /><br />Here’s hoping that we get out of the clutches of the virtual rituals and wake up to the real beauty of humanity.Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-49482713773892431582006-08-09T17:31:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.206-07:00Dream AwayYou step into the garden with hesitant feet. Your eyes blink in the bright light. You have spent your life in darkness for so long that you are a stranger to it's luminosity. On your face is a joyous incredulity. "Is this happening to <em>me</em>?" you wonder again and again as you take his hand and walk a few more steps on the soft green grass. The fragrance of spring assaults your senses and you breathe in the sunshine warmth. <br /><br />He smiles at you and you smile back. He caresses your soft hair and you put your head on his shoulder. The warmth around you engulfs you both into the realms of many possibilities. <br /><br />Your heart is beating fast with anticipation. "Is this for real?" You wonder. "Why does he like me?"<br /><br />"Why didn't this happen to me before? Why did I not walk these shores in an age that I should have? Did these rainbows have to appear so late?" Many questions pulse in your mind with every beat of your heart. <br /><br />My dear, who knows when one would get a certain joy in life? Who are we to decide what is the appropriate time? Just as when we go through suffering we should not ask <em>Why me? Why now?</em>, while accepting the joys, we should be reverent and humble. Some of us get something early in life, the rest of us have to wait for it. The joy we were seeking was always precious, but when you get it after a long wait, it becomes priceless! <br /><br />Life is a dynamic flow, it makes us sink and rise, gush towards joy and fall into the abyss of sorrow. The only way to live it is to embrace whatever comes your way with open arms and make the most of it.<br /><br />There is not much I can say to you now. I see your joy and I feel happy. I just want to tell you, dream away dear friend, get drunk on this joy! Let the cadence of this happiness take you both to the heights of rapture you have never seen before.<br /><br />Then looking at you, some of us would realize, life is not as unfair as it seems, after all. Yeah, it is worth the wait!Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-60666601418638745812006-07-17T12:59:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.216-07:00ReflectionsOne can hardly predict, when in life one experiences an epiphanic moment. Nuggets of wisdom are littered around all of us, yet to pick the right one at the right time and letting it touch your heart is another matter.<br /><br />I was rummaging through our old suitcases - the ones that we brought when we came to US many years ago - and found a gem, an old, worn out cassette (yeah cassette!) of a collection of gazals by Ahmed Hussain and Muhammad Hussain! Fortunately for me, the cassette was not all destroyed. I could actually play it and listen to some of my all time favorite gazals, one of which I quote here. <br /><br /><em>Aainese kab talak tum apna dil behelaoge<br /> Chayenge jab jab andhere khudko tanha paoge</em><br /><br /><em>How long will you indulge in reflections? After all, when the darkness falls, you would find yourself all alone.</em><br /><br />Really, isn't that what we do? Build a home of mirrors, much like the <em>sheesh mehal</em> (palace of mirrors) of Mughal-E-Azam and call that our life? We interpret people, places and events not for what they are, but for what they look like to us. Our feelings and emotions are colored with our experiences and pre-dispositions. We even prefer to live in self image rather than in acknowledging our true self. As we grow older, all we do is raise guards around our true self and call that maturity. Not only do we close ourselves down, we also begin to view with suspicion those who choose to be free.<br /><br />Many times in life have I dug myself a hole, only to eventually crawl my way out of it. Every time, after much soul searching when I eventually came out, a new vista has presented itself, a new lesson has been learned and a new clarity has emerged. I have learned that one cannot sustain a world of pretensions for long. No matter how long you think you can keep up the bubbles of reflections, the time of reckoning with truth comes sooner or later. The hardest part, perhaps, is to have the courage to face the truth when it presents itself. <br /><br />There is much in life that I have lost or I never had. But there is much in life that I do. For everything I have, I have struggled. But struggling and winning is much better than struggling and failing. <br /><br />Each morning, when I wake up besides my husband, I feel, God, I love this man, what would I be without him? And I feel immensely grateful! There are many things I could list that make my life full, and there are many other things which have left a gaping hole in it. But whatever it is I have and lost is all a part of <em>my</em> truth. <br /><br />In life as events come and go they leave behind golden nuggets of memories - some good, some bad - but all together they sparkle in the sun and in the end, when we look at them dazzled, we know, <em>this</em> is what they called the Truth!Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-33476409755205492892006-07-11T12:39:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.226-07:00For PEach day I raise my hand <br />To knock on your door<br />Then I take it back <br />And turn around, alone <br /> <br />Beyond the door you live<br />Perhaps sad, perhaps happy<br />A burden of many questions<br />Chafes at your shoulders <br /> <br />I want to touch that burden<br />I want to release that pain<br />I want to be free of them<br />I want to set you free<br /> <br />What more do I want ?<br />I don't know and never have<br />Your anger perhaps I want<br />Then your sorrow, some more<br /> <br />Fragile something we hold<br />A golden crown of thorns<br />It could prick or it could sparkle<br />But we cannot take it off<br /> <br />I said I'd go away<br />But could I really leave?<br />You said you'd stay away<br />But can you really be?<br /> <br />With you so far beyond<br />My sorrow is not complete<br />With me away from you<br />Can your joy be free?<br /> <br />Tell me what to do<br />So I can come near<br />To look you in the eyes<br />To tell you I am here<br /><br />To see you soar with joy<br />To hold you in your pain<br />To show you all my dreams<br />To see yours sustain<br /><br />Don't crush this precious bond <br />Don't feed it to your fears<br />Life is long and dark<br />Full of lonely years<br /><br />I say I am a sinner<br />Worthy of your disdain<br />Punish me thus my dear<br />Give me all your painArundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-55268185710254566092006-06-25T11:19:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.237-07:00Now when I wear my saintly mask<br />You see in me the evil<br /><br />When I had worn my evil <br />You said I was a saint<br /><br />Who is right and who went wrong<br />What is held and what is lost<br /><br />Ho do you in your world<br />Measure friends and foes<br /><br />How do you in your saneness<br />Make sense of us insanes<br /><br />I never claimed I was good<br />I have always been one lost<br /><br />But you who has found your way<br />Why should you grope in the dark?Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555963177528688531.post-8498702840498538742006-06-11T13:54:00.000-07:002015-07-16T11:15:57.247-07:00HibernationGoing away for a while... But will come back, I promise! <br />Come back as a changed woman? Maybe...<br /><br />Stay tuned!!Arundhatihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14444643874390829844noreply@blogger.com0