Like A Child Again

It isn't everyday that a man can beam happily even as someone pulls his ear and administers a fairly audible smack to his cheek. Nevertheless, I have a witness to state that this is how I responded to the above mentioned pull and smack, a few days ago...

To be honest, neither of the actions was painful because they weren't really intended to hurt me... I saved this little detail for now, just to make the first paragraph a little more interesting! :D My apologies for the sauciness... and don't get me wrong...I'm hardly the type to remain passive if intentional violence is directed at my person!

The incident I'm referring to occurred in a music class that I attend. My teacher, whom I call "Didi" (Hindi for older sister) inspired this post. I don't think I will never forget the look on her face as she leaned forward to pull my ear... it is a very happy and meaningful memory for me.

Didi took me under her wing a few months ago, to teach me the nuances of semi-classical music. Not only are her classes teaching me various types of such music, they are also helping me discover my voice in its entirety. She's helping me learn how to sing without being self-conscious (which I have a tendency to be) and with complete confidence in myself. Her lessons are sprinkled liberally with trademark metaphors and admonishments, all tailored to drive home some vital points. She once told me that there was no point in trying to hide my mistakes by singing softly because she would catch them anyway and then get annoyed because she'd think I was trying to conceal them. She added quite pointedly that the reason I was in her class was for her to find my errors so she could help me correct them...so where was the sense in being 'discreet'? The lesson hit me like a flat stone in the centre of my forehead! Good heavens! There I was trying so hard to avoid making errors, while someone was willing to let me make them, sans judgement and in fact, waiting to help me overcome them!

We seldom have the luxury of returning to a situation where our environment is tolerant of the mistakes we make...when someone is waiting patiently, to pick us up each time we fall and show us where we went wrong the last time. I use the term 'returning' because to be in a situation like this, is akin to being a child again, when a caregiver is there to help a toddler learn to walk, read, write, discover the world...

Didi is helping me discover my voice in baby steps that mean the world to me. I'm hearing myself clearly for the first time, experiencing what my voice can do and understanding what I can do to improve it. In her presence, I feel like a little boy, eager to show his teacher what he has learnt to do, and to learn as much as he can from her. I remember the delight with which I learnt things from my kindergarten teachers, because I feel the same connection with her... both when she praises my efforts and when she corrects me.

It is only when we grow older that we begin to cherish how wonderful it is to be taken care of...to be called lovingly by a nickname...to be told it's alright if we don't get it right the first time... When Didi pulled my ear and smacked my cheek, she did it affectionately, playfully because I had delayed in relaying some good news to her. It felt wonderful to me, because I felt that she had asserted her right to partake of my happiness... because she thinks of herself as my caregiver.

I hope you have loads of people in you life, who make you feel this way... parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, teachers etc. The next time you give them a hug, put in a extra squeeze... :)

God Bless!

Vroom!

The Universe has a tendency to send people into your life in rather uncanny ways. Usually these occasions take the form of pleasant surprises that you only become aware of when you're already accustomed to the welcome presence of the 'other'. Of course there are some instances when this is not the case...you would much rather have spent the rest of your life in blissful ignorance of the other's existence! I, however, am interested in narrating an instance of the former case.

Motorbikes are probably the last things that you would associate with me, if you had even a passing knowledge of my views and interests. I would be aghast if my close friends could so much as picture me sitting on the pillion seat, leave alone steering the bike. It's true..I haven't got a clue about the workings of those two-wheelers, I've never shared anyone's fascination for them and I've never so much as gripped the handles of anything apart from a bicycle!

So the interesting thing here, is that a few nights ago, I narrowed my eyes and prayed that my hair would not fly off my scalp, as I sped delightedly down some roads in my hometown, Mumbai. I passed through the narrow spaces between monstrous trucks and street dividers and effortlessly overtook large cars, even as the world sped past me, as swift as the wind in my face...I was on a motorbike, loving every second of it! :)

Don't get me wrong...I was not steering the bike and I probably am never going to! I was seated on the pillion seat holding on to the owner of the bike and wondering what it might feel like to actually be in control of something capable of so much speed! I've often seen the exhilarated faces of children when someone gives them even a short ride on a motor-bike. That day, I finally got to understand what puts the smile on their faces! :)

So, how did this anomaly come to pass? That's where all this banter about the Universe comes in! :)

I have a tendency to give people 'tags' when I don't know their names. Nobody every hears me refer to those people by the tags...they are strictly for personal reference and maintaining context, until I get introduced to them or remember their names. And I only do this for people I see regularly...say in a class that I attend, or in my workplace. To illustrate, some of the current tags I have for people I see in my kickboxing class, are "The-girl-who-is-NEVER-on-time", "He's-going-to-put-his-fist-through-the-punching-bag-soon!" and "Pretty-face-but-looks-so-glum-all-the-time". Not exactly the most elegant thing to do, I agree, but it happens spontaneously! I suspect we all do something like this, in our own ways an in our own contexts (I'd love to know what you do, if you'd like to tell me!).

When I started working, I found myself in a huge office filled with people I did not know...so it was but natural for me to be tagging furiously! One of the first people I tagged was a man I called "Street Hawk-meets-Lone Ranger". I would see him walk into the office with his windcheater on and helmet in his hand. I didn't often see him talking to many people...seemed the quiet type. He always exuded the self-assured air of someone who is obviously confident of himself and is good at what he does. All this, in addition to an enigmatic aura, accentuated by a very sharp and attentive gaze - the kind that takes in everything in just a sweep. Quite an interesting character overall! :) I discovered his name a few months later and discarded the tag accordingly...

Over the last couple of weeks, I've had the occasion to share my lunch-table with him pretty often and discovered that he is a delightful conversationalist with a remarkably wry sense of humour...oddly British and still somehow very Indian. Lunch time is usually punctuated with some excellent, dry remarks on whatever the subject of the conversation is, be it politics, information technology, alternative healing or what you will...and those of you who know me well, will know how much I appreciate dry wit and clever quips! :)

Apart from adding the flavour of good conversation to a meal that is otherwise lacking in flavours that appeal to one's gustation, I must also thank him for providing me with the motorbike experience mentioned above.

He found me leaving the office building one evening and offered me a ride back home...and something in me (I'm guessing the "curious-child-complex") just me just said "Yes!". More than once I pictured the disapproving face of an elder relative, who is particularly in disfavour of two-wheelers, but somehow I just could not turn down the offer...and a few minutes later, I was on a motorbike, after goodness knows how many years!

So, you see, you never know when the Universe sends you a very pleasant surprise in the most unexpected and exceedingly coincidental way...but it's always nice to pay attention to it's little ways. :)

Till my next post!

Vrooom!

The Mighty Snail

Jogging is one of my ways of unwinding these days...quite surprising for people who are aware of the particular revulsion I have for perspiration (I seem to be blessed with an amazing tendency to perspire with the most minuscule effort you can imagine...(sigh)). A dear friend is responsible for this near miraculous phenomenon which find me thudding around a nice park adjacent to my apartment block. Somehow, he managed to convince me that it's fun and that the copious sweating isn't as distressing as I imagine! :D

This evening, as the ground beneath my feet felt the repeated pounding of my new running shoes, I saw something that made me think even as I huffed along. I was a large garden snail that was inching its way across the narrow path on which people walk/jog. I marked its progress each time I came near that particular spot on the track. At the end of 25 minutes, it was not even half-way across the (approximately) 3-feet wide path.

More than once I was tempted to just pick it off the ground and deposit it in the safety of the bushes for which it was headed. Towards the end of my jogging I nearly did so...but a thought made me hold back...

I thought to myself, that no matter how small this creature's consciousness is in our estimation, it still has enough intelligence to recognise danger and possesses the instinct for self-preservation. It is in constant danger of being crushed by the next careless oaf who comes lumbering along and somewhere in its tiny snail-mind it must be aware of this; but it still moves ahead, unshakable even in its acute vulnerability.

I think we have a lot to learn from the snail...do you?

Kite-string

As I type these words, I look from time to time at the fine scar that marks one of the joints on my left index finger... an odd reminder of a very interesting afternoon that I experienced not too long ago.

Strange as it may seem, until the above mentioned afternoon, I had never experienced kite-flying (to be fair, that is technically still true...but let me come to that in a bit!). Somehow, my childhood never included the endless hours of fascination with a brightly coloured kite, that form an integral part of my father's memory of his youth. I had never regretted this absence...there were always a dozen other things to keep me occupied at any given moment.

However, I must admit, that when a good friend suggested that I try it, I welcomed the opportunity with no small measure of eagerness! There is something fascinating about flying a kite...watching it soar into the skies and guiding it's direction. I'd often watched children spend hour upon hour just running against the breeze in order to send a kite into the sky...and I'd wondered what it was like to feel the wind tug at one's kite and take it higher and higher in the direction of the heavens.

So, on the afternoon in question, I found myself on the roof of an apartment block, squinting on account of a fiercely burning sun and enjoying the droughts of wind that wafted over from the nearby lake. Two friend, both experienced kite-fliers, were there with me, busying themselves with the technicalities of whatever it is that goes into launching a kite. They discussed the various positions from which the kite would be best launched, the changing direction of the wind, the composition of the kite and even the way the string should be wound... a fascinating study for someone as inexperienced as myself.

Imagine my consternation, however, when not even one of us managed to get that kite airborne for even a minute! I realised that kite-flying might not be so easy after all, when I noticed that almost an hour had been spent in watching the poor kite crash repeatedly into just about everything on that roof (including us!). The incessant succession of failed attempts came to an end when an over zealous tug at the kite-string left me with a cut on my left forefinger.

Not the most productive afternoon, if you measure productivity by number of successes. But it was certainly one of the most enjoyable afternoons I'd spent in a while. You see, it didn't matter that I did not manage to get that kite into the sky or watch it go further and further in the direction of the clouds. What I relished each moment was the fact that I was experiencing something that I had missed for over two decades of my life. In a strange way, I felt a sense of completeness that had nothing to do with that kite...it was more about giving a treat to the child in me. I laughed at the kite as it came down again and again...and I shared the mirth of my veteran companions, who had no dearth of quips and jibes to make each time the poor kite plummeted earthward! It wasn't about achieving anything...it was about being in the moment, enjoying the time that we had together...which is something that adults lose so easily, even though it is something that comes naturally to their children. I felt my inner child laugh that afternoon. The kite may never have experienced the delight of being airborne, but my spirit flew high amongst the clouds, happier than the brightest kite you could imagine!

:)

Hello 2007!

There are just about 15 minutes to before the date changes to 2nd January 2007...so let me finish this fast!

This is the first of many posts that will find themselves on LifeStrings in the year 2007. I don't have a specific topic in mind, yet...at present I'm still revelling in the odd excitement of having entered the new year. I don't know what it is that always gets me so excited about the first of January (it's something like the thrill I used to feel on my birthdays, when I was much younger and believed that we only grow taller on our birthdays!).

This year has opened itself with an inspiration for hope, prayers and conviction. Hope for the joy, love and compassion that I will find in the days to come, prayers to spread such thoughts and actions in all areas of my life and the conviction that I will indeed do so, no matter what!

This evening, as I took a walk in the deliciously cool breeze, I suddenly found myself thinking along such lines...and almost on cue, a dozen sparklers flew into the dark sky, exploding with their jubilant hues (apparently there was a celebration of some kind in a nearby building, where the residents were lighting these firecrackers). On and on they went, streaking up in golden trails and filling the night with their colours...and somehow I knew at once that the Universe had conspired once again...giving me an indication of the happiness that is to come.

I welcome you to the new year of posts on LifeStrings...more shared experiences, thoughts, insights and love. :)

God Bless!

Dhunuchi

The Dhakis walked slowly around the semicircular enclosure, beating their differently tuned drums. In their midst, the devotee began to sway...a lady the world would label as well past her prime...large, overweight, middle-aged, hair coloured with henna to mask the abundance of grey in it. Her fine saree and glittering silver waistband were not enough to conceal the effects of age and maintaining a family, that had left her with but a shadow of what must have been a very striking woman several years ago.

Nevertheless, she hefted the heavy, wide-brimmed clay pots filled with dhuno (a smoking mixtures of camphor, incense, tinder and coconut husk) with the enthusiasm of an eighteen year old and began her dance to the accompaniment of the drummers and the ceaseless ululations of the audience. Her long hair swirled this way and that while beads of perspiration gleamed on her dusky skin. Her hands moved in gentle circles guiding the pots of dhuno in intricate patterns as her feet moved over the enclosure. Age seemed to fall away from her, space and time faltered in their ceaseless vigil as the drummers increased the tempo to a dramatically faster beat. In perfect tandem, the matriarch matched them beat for beat. Now she leaped in the air, her tresses flying behind her, her waistband gleaming like the sun on water, the pots of dhuno creating arcs of smoke along the paths traced by her hands. In apparent defiance of the limitations placed by her own body, this lady spun on the ground, tossed her head proudly almost daring the drummers to try and outdo her. When they finally stopped, she too came to a standstill; her chest rising and falling in deep breaths and her face aglow. Her eyes found the face of the Goddess for whom she had danced and she raised her hands in a gesture of the utmost devotion...

*************

"Dhunuchi", the smoke-dance, is one of the most marvellous aspects of Durga Puja as celebrated by the Bengalis of India. At present, the 5-day Durga Puja is being celebrated by Bengali communities across India and I'm blessed to be living a stone's throw away from one such celebration. The above description is something that I witnessed while attending the festivities of the second day. It is but one example of a number of people, many of them in their late fifties at least, who discarded the trappings of age and status, to partake freely in the attempt to invoke the blessings of Durga through this dance-form.

"Durga" derived from the Sanskrit word durg (for fort), literally means the inaccessible one. She was brought forth with considerable efforts (for a few more details on this, read my post, "The Better Half", dated 30th May 2006) by the most powerful beings who themselves deferred to her. Her power has to be ceaselessly invoked by her devotees and even when she responds to their call, she does not stay with them for very long. She blesses them with exactly what they need and then departs, for her energy is too great to be borne by mortals, beyond the span of a few days.

The form of the Devi presents a contradiction of sorts. We call her "mother" and yet we see her adorned as a warrior, with many hands, each holding a weapon. At her feet lies the demon Mahishasura, grimacing in pain as her trident pierces him. Despite this, in most portrayals her face looks infinitely calm and loving. My point is, this is often, the way a mother is! She wears many 'hats', so to speak. At once, she nurturing, protective, vigilant, receptive, strong, punishing, forgiving etc. The calm look on Durga's face reflects the boundless love she has for her children/devotees. Her armed appearance is a human depiction of the complete power she has to protect us from all evil (each weapon she holds, has a meaning, but we will not get into that here!). The demon at her feet represents the greatest demon of all...the human 'ego'. Durga destroys the demon, just as submitting to her grace automatically quells human pride. The mother is ruthless in this action of slaying the ego, which is the greatest enemy of her children...and you can imagine the challenge of performing this task as the foe exists within her children, not outside them. To simultaneously wreck destruction and run the risk of hurting her child (for his/her own benefit), yet providing an unshakable support to him/her all along the road to recovery...this is the true power of Durga and the often unnoticed prowess of many mothers in this world.

Yesterday when I stood before her, mulling over the handful of ideas mentioned above, I was suddenly hit by wave upon wave of emotion. My tears flowed freely even as I gazed at her face. It was almost as if my entire life until that moment flashed before my eyes...the throngs of other devotees seemed to disappear and only the sounds of the Dhakis' frenzied drumming remained as I looked at her face...

My life, like that of most other individuals has been had its ups and downs. Some of the 'downs' have been pretty bad and many of the 'ups' have been correspondingly marvellous. However, through them all, I've felt something behind me, a stable, unchanging strength that has found a way to keep me centred. That strength, is what I interpret as the power of the Eternal Mother. She has been there for me, even when I didn't recognise her, responding to even my most unconscious calls. Many experiences in life left me considerably humbled, but she was there to make me learn my lesson and evolve from those experiences. People go to temples, often with the intention of asking for something special. When I went there yesterday, there was absolutely nothing I could as for (except a general well-being and happiness for my family and everyone else)...instead, I found myself brimming with thanks for everything that I had been through that had made me a better person. In that moment, I learnt what the Mother is, beyond the trappings of the idol which represents her. I won't forget this in a hurry!

God Bless! :)

One of those days...

Today was just one of those occasions when things don't go as planned and the air seems to sit heavily on one's shoulders. Something happened that did not sit well with me and I was a little off-colour for a while...quite a while, I should say! I was completely absorbed in some work that I was trying to mould into an acceptable shape after having discovered that it did not meet the intended targets on some counts. Being a little fussy about my work, I was in no mood to engage in small-talk or exchange pleasantries with anyone. Unfortunately, in my case, my face is an open book, it seems, for anyone who knows me even fairly well. I received a hail of enquiries, comments and suggestions from several people - the concerned as well as the amused variety - most of which I answered only half-heartedly or in feigned surprise and denial. Sometimes, when one is a little bothered, it is just plain aggravating if others come and ask the "What ails thee?" type of questions! More than once I was forced to bite back a response laden with a sarcasm, because I knew that the person who would receive them (in no small measure of amazement) meant me no harm! :)

My annoyance continued for several hours...the botheration giving way to a dull, exhausted irritation that would probably breathe its last when I resigned myself to a good night's sleep. However, it was one of the Universe's little charms that ensured that my vexation was shorter-lived than I had anticipated...

I had kept MSN Messenger on while working on my computer. Suddenly a little pop-up from the lower right hand corner of the screen announced that a good friend of mine had sent a message. Wearily I opened it, barely focused on its content...and then, in just a few sentences, I found the balm I needed for my aching thoughts! :)

My friend just stated in a simple and inimitable style that she had noticed my state earlier in the day and all she wanted to know was whether I was alright. Nobody else during the entire day, had expressed their observation in as straightforward, caring and affectionate a way as this friend of mine did...and without having to spell it out, she made it clear that she was there, waiting to listen to anything I had to say, to ease my cares just with her presence. Reading those lines was enough to take away every bit of botheration in my system. Before I knew it, I felt quite myself again! :)

There are times when you want someone to reach out to you...but you don't want it to be masked in sympathy, condescension or humour. You want someone to make you feel that they're there, right behind you, waiting to hold you should your steps falter, ready with a shoulder for you to cry on, should you feel the need to do so. You might not ever make use of these comforts, but you like to know that you will always have this option...that someone cares for you and will always call you by your name, even if you lose yourself in the ocean life...

May you all be blessed with friends like this! :)

Ties

Over the last month and a half, I've been part of an intensive training programme, that is compulsory for new employees of the company I work for. When I joined the organisation, I did so with a great deal of optimism, but also prepared myself to start interacting with people at a level that would be less emotionally charged than the ties that I shared with friends from my student days. This was probably based on my observations of how older people conduct themselves with colleagues as compared to friends and family. I told myself that such a shift in interaction styles would be natural and in fact adaptive...but somehow I could not bring myself to believe those thoughts. A small voice whispered insistently that even in the workplace, one does not have to be bereft of an interpersonal closeness, colleagues can be as good as friends and one can find a way to rise above petty differences and evolve as a person when placed in a professional environment. I was not able to decide between the two viewpoints so I decided to simply go ahead and take one day at a time...

Today, I can safely say, with immense pleasure that the little voice emerged victor by a wide, wide margin! Over the last several weeks, the office became a place where I met some really remarkable people, watched intelligent minds blossom, felt my own horizon's expand, and above all, forged some friendships that I pray will last forever. I had never dreamt that I would experience this in a workplace, which I had envisioned as a sober, competitive and altogether "professional" environment! It's yet another of the Universe's blessings that I give thanks for each and every day.

Yes, there were some teething problems...the initial awkwardness of meeting people for the first time and being shut away in the training room with them for hours on end...waiting for someone to extend the first pleasantries only to find that they were probably waiting for you to do the same...watching others carefully maintain a guarded discretion in their conversations... But all that soon gave way as a steady closeness grew between different group members. Little cliques formed and shifted amongst the batch, but overall there was a sense of mutual understanding and cohesiveness. Countless spates of helpless laughter, muffled giggles, heated arguments, short-lived "cold-wars" and a sharing of each other's lives and experiences coexisted with the formal training that everyone was going through. Call it what you will, but I think of it as one of God's infinite miracles that happen in the subtlest yet most palpable ways...

This afternoon our batch said goodbye to one of its members,who had to leave in order to join another branch of the company. We had known from the start that she would be leaving us once the training was complete...what we had no inkling of, was how difficult it would be to say goodbye at the end of our time together. The human heart forms attachments so quickly!

We managed to get away for short while, so we could enjoy a nice lunch outside the office, as a kind of happy send-off for our friend/colleague. Lunch was a delightful affair, full of the usually peals and guffaws that characterise the times when all of us are together (there was good food too!). None of us seemed to be aware of the fact that we'd soon be parting ways with one of our friends, for a long time to come. It was only at the end of the meal, when she had to head for the airport and we had to make our way back to the office, that many of us felt a lump rise in our throats...before I knew it, some of us had silently let their tears fall, and the one who was leaving us was crying openly while exchanging hugs, handshakes and parting pleasantries (most of which sounded a bit garbled when delivered in choked voices). To my mind, this was yet another feather-in-the-cap for the "little voice" I mentioned earlier (which, by the way, is practically bellowing now!).

Affection is a curious thing indeed...you have absolutely no idea when and for whom it will form. The idea is to go with it, celebrate it and let it show...I will never forget the overwhelmed look on our friend's face when we gave her a small token of our affection...a painted clay figurine and a card. In that wordless instant I witnessed how strong the ties were that had been forged subliminally in just a couple of months. It was simply wonderful.
:)

On The Edge of Rain

There are times when the universe conspires, however briefly, to put you in a spot where you feel dwarfed and empowered all at once. I found myself in such a spot just a few days ago. At the time, I was on my way back from work, walking towards my apartment block, enjoying the breeze that ruffled my hair and swept away a day's worth of weariness. In my right hand I clutched my umbrella (a logical extension of the pedestrian's body if one happens to live in Mumbai during the monsoon!), although I didn't expect to use it anytime soon; it hadn't rained all day and although the skies were overcast, I doubted the probability of a downpour before I reached home. I think this was the point when God gave me an impish grin and said "Oh yeah?"...

I was barely 50 feet from the entry to my building when I heard the initial patter of raindrops accelerate to a near-deafening roar within five seconds. Since I don't like getting drenched when I'm in office-wear, it was decidedly unpleasant to find that the button that opens my umbrella was stuck! It was at this mildly panic stricken moment that I realised I was dry as a bone even though I could still hear the rain. That's when I looked up and witnessed the cosmic joke I was busy being the butt of...

Sure enough, the rain was coming down ('cats and dogs' was a phrase that leapt to mind), but it was nowhere near me...it was like I was standing outside a tent of some kind. My building was being pelted by it, but I was standing just outside the range of the water...

I've never experienced anything of the kind. A curtain of rain was between me and the apartment block and while I gaped at the phenomenon, I all but forgot my efforts to work the errant umbrella I was still struggling with (all of the above was happening pretty fast, by the way!). Somewhere in the midst of my wonder, I realised what I was happening. I was standing just a little out of the range of the rainclouds that were moving over my building and the breeze that I'd been enjoying just a little while ago, was blowing them steadily in my direction.

It's quite something to stand on the very edge of the rain. It's like you're watching an impossibly large ship advance towards the shores you are standing on...you're awed by its colossal form, but somewhere inside, a part of you identifies with its magnificence and dignity, almost as if you are equals. That's how I felt as I watched the rain from outside its perimeter... I felt marvel at the sight that spread before me but felt strangely uplifted in the knowledge that I was the only one who was witnessing this phenomenon. I still get goosebumps when I think about it!

The flickering sheets of water were now a lot closer...a couple of seconds more and I would have to kiss dry clothes farewell! Almost on cue, the annoying button of the umbrella relented and the contraption sprang into action, opening out even as I hoisted it over my head in considerable haste! It was just a second before the edge of the rain washed over me. I actually felt the vibrations of it as it crossed over my umbrella and I couldn't help but imagine that from God's aerial perspective it would have looked like chocolate sauce being poured over a large nut (if that makes no sense to you, it's alright! I've really struggled to describe this experience)... :)

Of Little Birds and New Beginnings

At about 6:45 am each day, the unmistakable twitter of sparrows falls on my ears, adding it's presence to my riyaaz. There's nothing like birdsong to start your day with, and sparrows have always been favourites with me. Have you ever taken the time to observe a sparrow carefully? Many people find them drab, but that's usually because their plumage is often dimmed by urban air pollution. In truth, they have a lovely pattern of several shades of brown, some flecks of black and a generous sprinkling of white feathers. Besides, their chubby little forms and quick, high-pitched chirps are by far their most endearing qualities. They're at my balcony every morning, flitting between my hanging plants and chirping non-stop. Even as I continue with riyaaz, I have no choice but to look at their merriment and admire how full of energy they are (I'm presently debating whether I should start feeding them breadcrumbs, but I have a horror of pigeons and I would hate to see those eternally hungry and perpetually defecating creatures replace my sparrows, who don't make a mess of my balcony in the slightest!).

By the way, this is my fiftieth post on LifeStrings and it being 8:25 am, this is also probably the earliest I have ever written one!

It makes me so happy to note the synchronicity between the serial number of this post and the new path my life has taken; namely, my entry into the world of work. Having just attained the qualification of an Applied Psychologist, I've been hired by a good software firm to work in an area that requires and also builds on my skills as a psychologist. The work is challenging, the ongoing training is intensive (make that a capital 'i'), my batch-mates are good fun, the work environment is "WOW!" and I don't have to wear formal clothes to office! In short, the Universe has given me just about everything that I could have wanted to start my career with. :)

While I'm giving thanks to the cosmos (and believe me, I'm always dishing out these silent thanks!), I also want to tell you how wonderful the experience of blogging has been for me. What started as an experimental venture at my uncle's suggestion, has now become something that I cannot do without. LifeStrings gave me the opportunity to renew the pleasure that I get from writing, something that I had all but lost in the last couple of years. Today, I'm always on the lookout for posting something new here...and that makes me introspect and observe even more than I used to, which is simply wonderful considering how much there is to learn from even life's smallest experiences. So, I thank you for reading this post and any others you might have read, I thank all the readers who sent me generous comments (and/or took the trouble to call or message me in order to express their appreciation) and I look forward, most earnestly to a lifetime's worth of blogging!

God Bless!

While Watching the Rain...

From the shelter of my home I allow myself the luxury of watching the dark rain-bearers charge across the skies, hurling their exquisite bounties at the earth. I watch, as their invisible ally, the wind, shakes the trees and I listen to its insistent jubilation whistling through a small gap in one of my windows.

Two ladies pass below my window, their shared umbrella pummelled within an inch of destruction by the relentless gale and their dresses soaked by the drops carried on it. Their feet make small splashes in the watery film that flows over the stone tiles of the building compound...the ground is alive with the ceaseless impact a million raindrops, each of which hurtles joyously towards the earth knowing that in a fraction of a moment, it will lose its form forever...

Glancing at a nearby building, I spy an orderly line of pigeons, huddling under the roof's ornamental protrusion (and smile contentedly, knowing that their endless defecation will not soil my balconies for several days to come!). On a hunch I leave my window to examine our apartment's terrace...intuition serves me well, as I find a prized Lily plant overturned by the careless gusts that swirl all around our apartment complex. The clusters of potted plants and ornamental rocks on my terrace glisten with the regular cleansing they receive minute upon minute... a short while later, I re-enter the house, my clothes considerably dampened by the brief act of bringing the plant into a sheltered corner.

It is late afternoon but the dense cloud-canopy does keeps the sun out of sight; it grows dark outside and the distant roll of thunder takes the form of a lullaby. The house grows cooler and the body wants nothing more than to give itself over to the conspiratorial coaxing of the monsoons...Who am I to challenge the strength of a Season? Before I known it, the cosy folds of my quilt are up to my chin and my eyes grow heavy under nature's enchantment...a welcome, comforting darkness comes before me...and my spirit wanders...

Lessons Learnt from the 'Cousin Corps'

Some of life's many blessings have come in the forms of the children that have been born to my mother's sisters, a small army of adorable youngsters that I refer to as the 'Cousin Corps' (a term that is highly appropriate when we all meet in the same place!).

Being the eldest amongst them, I have the unique pleasure of standing on the threshold that separates the "grown-ups" of our family from the kids. At my discretion, I can don the caregiver's mantle - supervising meals, helping with homework, reading/reciting story after story etc. - or put on my "considerably-less-mature" hat and watch cartoons, go for movies like "Krrish" (which, despite my considerable respect for Hrithik Roshan, is not a movie I would recommend for anyone who does not need supervision when a movie is rated PG!), trade an infinite number of hugs, tickles and mindless jokes!

As time passes, I watch these boys and girls grow and observe how their thoughts and actions change. In the younger ones I get to see the blossoming of minds that absorb new information like and knowledge like sponges, the delicacy of emotional structures and the care with which it is necessary to nurture them; and the sheer purity of innocence and trust that only childhood can maintain. In the older ones I witness the bumpy phase in which the last vestiges of childhood meet the quirky beginnings of adolescence, the beginnings of the search for meaning and autonomy, the need to be understood and the trials of self-discovery/assertion. It's a vast picture and its colours are moving constantly, not always in a fashion that one might consider ideal, but somehow the overall effect is quite pleasing.

One of the things I've noticed is the changing importance of touch in their lives. As babies and toddlers they couldn't get enough of it...they were ready to give hugs and be cuddled at any given time (one of the BEST feelings you could ever have, in my opinion, is to hold a child and let him/her fall asleep in your arms...the sheer amount love and faith that a sleeping infant places in you is an incomparable experience). As children they still like to be cuddled, but only for a moment or two at most, or when they're sleepy and want someone telling them a nice bedtime story. The adolescents are a lot more tricky to handle...sometimes just ruffling someones hair (in innocent affection) can earn you a dirty look (because you may have upset the "do"!...lord forbid!) and a hug may only be reciprocated in an obviously half hearted way...basically it's all about timing in these cases! As they grow still older, touch becomes far more complex as an issue, once they become aware of and explore the issues tied to sexuality. An older relative saying something like "Oh for heaven's sake! I'm your (insert appropriate relation)! I've given you baths when you were a child!", is just considered foolish (if not worse!).

What accounts for this gradual change? Is it something that is purely developmental and a natural consequence of life's progression? 'Assuredly not!', comes my answer. Developmental changes are a part of the issue, but not its entirety. The way we bring up our children and the kind of environment in which we bring them up are equally important parts of the picture. The modern adolescent has to contend with an information overload on sex and sexuality usually from sources far removed from their parents (many of whom are embarrassed or reluctant to explain this matter, largely due to ignorance of how it may be explained in a crisp and healthy way). Forget adolescents...if you pay close attention to the kind of audiences in movie theatres, you will find even children exposed to scenes which would definitely not be recommended for them by any mental health professional (in Mumbai theatres I've seen parents taking babies to night-shows...what the poor things must make of the loud sounds and flashing lights, I can't even begin to imagine!).

So, when I look at the happy faces of the various members of the Corps as they crowd around a table just loaded with some nice refreshments, I cannot help but be thankful...thankful that they've grown up in an environment where care has been taken to keep them sheltered and still answer their most exploratory questions in a non-condescending and informative way. For them, rules have been explained rather than imposed, so instances of overstepping boundaries are few and far-between. Most importantly, nobody has been deprived of the days of innocence that are every child's birthright...

Music Classes

"Pa' Sa Sa Sa' " the Tanpura sang, as I plucked its strings, quickly losing myself in their enchantment. Their sacred sounds filled the room... and I shut my eyes, unwilling to allow any other stimuli to impinge upon my senses...

Last Thursday I resumed my music lessons under Guruji, after a break of almost three months. Exams, vacations and job hunting had left me with no time for my weekly sessions with him and in the bustle of all those activities, I had almost forgotten how sorely I missed music class...I say "almost" because even in that prolonged sabatacle, there were moments when I would look wistfully at my tanpura and wonder when I would have the luxury of riyaaz again! Truly, there are times when absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder and nowhere was this more evident than in my last music class!

There is something magical about the way Guruji tunes a tanpura. I've watched him do it a hundred times and I've developed a general idea about the technique, but the sheer perfection of the sound that he can create within three to four minutes is something I have yet to achieve. Listening to that sound after so many days, I understood, for the first time, what Smt. Kishori Amonkar meant when she once remarked that there are times when even she is hesitant to let her own voice merge with the tanpura's notes. Nevertheless, I was hardly about to sit quietly while Guruji sat opposite me with his hands poised over the tabla set, waiting patiently for me to start singing!

With relish, therefore, I started Raag Bhimpalas, the late afternoon melody that I'm learning at present. A brief pakad (short introductory passage of notes, sung in aakaar) later, I sang the sthayi (first stanza) of Sadaarang's famous compostition "Ja ja re apne mandirawa..." and Guruji struck the sam (first beat) of the teentaal (a 16 beat rhythm cycle), just as I emphasised the shuddha madhyam (natural fourth)...

It is difficult for me to explain the thrill of such music classes. Guruji sits before me, playing the tabla as I sing the Khayal. While I leave the lyrics to pursue the aaalap, he remains in the steady, routine pattern of beats; and when I return to the lyrics he bursts into small but brilliant teentaal-based improvisations, sometimes even bringing in cross rhythms, each of which ends just when I reach the sam. At that very point, when rhythm and melody achieve a confluence, the divine power of music is most evident. Performer and listener alike, lose track of time, everything seems brighter and the air literally vibrates with energy. When the session is over, this sense of unworldly delight remains and you can literally feel the roots of your hair tingling with it!

I've seen this look on the faces of musicians an audiences many a time, regardless of the genre of music or of my liking for it; but experiencing it, even as an amateur musician is something else... Nothing, nothing is comparable to the joy of being an active participant in the creation of music. :)

God Bless!

"Keralah!" (Part III: The Alleppey Backwaters)

Heat wafted through the air in steady waves as the Scorpio whizzed down the flat roads to Alleppey. The countryside was now lined with thick rubber plantations, their tall trees each having a small plastic container tied halfway up their trunks, in which their resin is collected.
Fine yellow dust billowed off the roads behind and before us as the sun beat down on everything in it's sight. The humidity also increased steadily as were grew closer to the famous backwaters of Kerala.

When we entered the town of Alleppey, I was a little dismayed to find it quite a commercial zone with all kinds of shops and other trimmings of modernity violating one's vision with their garish colours. This was soon to change however, as in a short while we were out of the commercial zone and entered the areas closer to the backwaters, where the landscape started changing to more rural and natural scenes. The above picture of a domesticated elephant was taken just before this change took place.


Our vehicle wound it's way through narrow roads lined with coconut trees and other kinds of coastal fauna. Small, one storey-two storey homes peeked out from behind their lush gardens. When we finally stopped, we were informed that we would have to walk down a narrow path alongside a canal, in order to reach our resort, Keraleeyam (left).

Keraleeyam turned out to be a charming old home built in the typical Kerala style about 75 years ago. It was converted recently into a resort-cum-Ayurvedic spa and has rooms within the main building along with several independent cottages. The food is absolutely amazing (you need to place your orders at least 2 hours in advance since they never serve pre-cooked food, but it's well worth the effort, believe me!). I've never eaten coconut rice and vegetable stew as tasty as what was served there, by the attendants attired in traditional Kerala-wear. Further, Keraleeyam is situated right on the edge of the backwaters and so you get an ideal view of the overwhelming contrast between urban and rural Alleppey and you also get to see why those backwaters are called the "Venice of the East".

The gentle lapping of the waters is regularly punctuated by the sound of oars as long wooden canoes ferry villagers back and forth along on the backwaters. Often, the steady humming of houseboats, like the one on the right, creates a temporary disturbance in the backdrop of sounds created by the birds and insects. Once in a while, a flash of vibrant turquoise and crimson, followed by a sleek splash will tell you that a kingfisher has dived for it's prey. Rural Alleppey is crisscrossed by wide canals and lakes that are formed of the backwaters. The villagers and the wildlife are entirely dependent on these waters for food and transport.

On the evening of our first day in Alleppey, we were hailed by a solitary boatman, Girish Kumar (right), who offered to take us on a small trip of the backwaters for a nominal fee (this happens to be quite a regular feature in Alleppey, where villagers often give tourists a canoe ride, to make a buck on the side!). In a short while we were touring the backwaters, making conversation with Girish in hideously broken English and some sign language because there was just no way he could understand a coherent sentence! In his chirpy style he showed us how villages have sprung up on narrow fingers of land that form the sides of canals.

You will never see one house behind another as there is no space for that. The little homes are arranged next to one another in single lines. Each house has its own canoe which bobs about outside the main entrance, and also a little stone niche with steps cut into the banks quite close to the canoe, which serves as a place where the owners of the house bathe and wash dishes (mercifully the water is not stagnant!). Drinking water is available inside the homes, courtesy of bore-wells. Electricity has also found its way to these villages so once in a while you will find a kingfisher perched on one of the cables, peering intently at the water below.
I will never forget the sight of school-goers being ferried to the mainland by their parents with their bags and bicycles early in the morning, followed by ladies going to shop for vegetables and fishermen who travel from island to island, announcing their catch with loud, high-pitched calls.

Rural Alleppey is an extraordinarily beautiful experience. Sunny skies sport the fluffiest white clouds you could imagine...and when you look at the shades of green that explode all along the shorelines, you can't help but think that green is God's favourite colour.



On the second day of our sojourn in Alleppey, we left Keraleeyam and embarked on a day and night of cruising on the backwaters in a rented houseboat, the Goldencap. In the care of Captain Ajaykumar (right) and his crew, we relaxed completely in the quaint luxury of that experience. There are few things you can do in life that can surpass the experience of living in a houseboat, literally waited on hand and foot, by the staff. We flopped in huge cane chairs as Captain Ajay navigated the 102 feet long houseboat through the tranquil waters, pausing every now and then to tell us something new about the lifestyle of the villagers. At mealtimes, we anchored in some place where the crew provided traditional Kerala cuisine prepared in the Goldencap's private kitchen. My dad also managed to haggle admirably with a local fisherman to come back with 4 huge lobsters for dinner!
As night fell on Alleppey, our boat was anchored near a small village. We spent the evening singing songs, trying a spot of fishing with rustic fishing rods and exchanged a few words with some villagers. The occasional passenger boats, which are backwater substitutes for the public buses used by land-dwellers were quite interesting to watch...for no other reason than their existence!

When it was time to sleep, we lacked for no comfort in the surprisingly well equipped and spacious rooms, which were air conditioned and had private toilets. It's something else to be lulled into slumber by the gentle rocking of your boat by the waters on which she is moored. I hope you get to experience this sometime! God bless and until my next post, au revoir!

"Keralah!" (Part II: Thekkady)

Thekkady and its famous Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary formed the second phase of the Kerala vacation. At a considerably lower altitude that Munnar, Thekkady is warm during the day but very pleasant during the evening. It's literally bursting with spacious resorts of all kinds [but I would particualrly recommend Tree Top ( first picture in the column below) and Spice Garden]. There is also no end to the number of shops selling little curios and other knick-knacks for momento-hungry tourists. Apart from visiting the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary and spice plantations (Thekkady is very famous for the superb quality of spices that are cultivated there). Visitors can also indulge in an extensive Ayurvedic Massage session at one of the numerous massage centres that mushroom all over the small town. Finally there is one small establishment hosting daily performances of Kerala's famous dance form, Kathakali (see the picture above).

Driving down to Thekkady from Munnar was also quite a treat. This time, Shaju zoomed downhill, oblivious to the glares he received from my father or to the plight of the backseat passengers who were tossed unceremoniously from this side to that, each time he sped around a bend in the road...which was a far more prominent feature of the route than desirable!. The air grew steadily warmer until we were forced to turn on the air conditioner. The scenery changed from tea gardens on rolling hills, to dense tropical vegetation and cardamom plantations. Wild flowers burst all along the roadsides...pinks, yellows, furious vermillions. Enormous jackfruits grew along the trunks of innumerable trees (I adore curries made of unripened jackfruit so you can imagine what the sight of those beauties did to my palate!).


Thekkady itself is not a town that immediately impresses you with its appearance. It's mostly a few streets lined from end to end with the entrances of shops and other places like I mentioned earlier. Once you enter the resorts, you get to see some lovely landscaping and as you go closer to the wildlife sanctuary it you get to see the treetops of the dense forest and the air grows thick with the excitement of being so close to un-caged beasts.

Our stay in the Tree Top resort (left), was very pleasant. Clean lodgings, good food (this was the first place where I sampled the famous Kerala Porothas and Theeyal, which is a preparation of shallots in a thick brown gravy laced with coconut milk), beautifully terraced grounds and a comfortable proximity to the sanctuary make it a highly desirable place to set your luggage down for a couple of nights (there is nothing you can do in Thekkady that cannot be accomplished in two days, flat!).

The Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary (left and below, as photographed from our launch) is the best thing about Thekkady. Home to the tiger, leopard, elephant, several species of birds, deer and crocodiles (I think), it is a vast jungle, spread around an enormous water-body that goes right through it. Tourists sit on launches and boats that take them right through the jungle, on the gentle blue waters. If you're on the 4:30pm cruise, then you're assured of a deliciously cool breeze throughout the trip and are most likely to spot animals as they come to drink from the lake. We spotted two species of deer, a family of three elephants, a heron, several types of water birds and what an over-excited co-passenger insisted was a crocodile sunbathing, but which looked more like a dead log to me. The elephants were the highlight of the cruise...it was almost like they decided to display themselves for a while. The materialised literally from nowhere and paraded sombrely down the shores of the lake for a long stretch, completely ignoring the squeals and gasps that erupted on board our launch. There were two cows and a young male walking between them, the three of them walking in an unhurried single file...huge feet moving in clockwork harmony.

Unfortunately, sighting tigers is very rare and spotting leopards is almost unheard of, but just knowing that they're there somewhere and might be watching you from some spot in the vegetation which your human eyes cannot pierce sends a tingle down your spine. As your boat navigates its way between the trunks of trees that are mostly inundated by the lake, you can see all kinds of birds perched on their tips, scanning the water intently for fish.

Overall, the experience of Periyar is an incomparable feast for the senses. If you're the kind of person who can spend hours watching Animal Planet, this place is your dream come true. Don't miss it if you're ever in its neighbourhood! Cheers!

Munnar Pics

Munnar's famous "Echo Point", which is aptly named. The Speedboating is good fun!













One of the waterfalls we saw near Munnar

















"Earring Flowers" (these beauties were right outside our rooms in Blackberry Hills. I didn't seen them in any other part of Munnar).

'Keralah!' (Part I: Munnar)

Two full days have passed since my return from 'God's own country' and I'm still dizzy with the experiences I had there. After several years my family took a much awaited and well-deserved vacation...to be in that hallowed land with my parents and sister was the ideal setting for a treasure trove of memories...

You know, seeing Mumbai from the window of an aeroplane always makes me feel a little sad...it's mostly the stark ugliness of the countless slums that spread like cancerous tissue in the city. All it makes me think about is how urbanization happens at a terrible cost and that our so called development is always at war with mother nature. In sharp contrast was the exhilaration I felt when I saw the impossible greenery of Kochi as my plane made it's gradual descent towards that city. Even while I was in Kochi (just a day and night) I kept marvelling at how spread out the city was, with its criss-crossing water- bodies and how green it was in comparison with Mumbai. I mean, one did find some garish and ghastly architecture every now and then, along with the modern steel and glass shopping mall structures, but by and large there were still a lot more trees in that city than in most other metros that I've seen.

Our stay in Kochi was short (just a day and night), but made very pleasant by the staff of the small but charming hotel we stayed in...an establishment by the name of Lotus 8, which is very close to the airport. If you're even in Kochi for a very short stay or a layover and you want accommodation which is reasonably priced and qualitatively satisfying, Lotus 8 will be just what you need. The food is pretty good...especially the Kerala style breakfasts (go for appams with stew!).

The next morning we were introduced to Shaju, the driver of the Scorpio (an ideal vehicle for extended road trips) that was to be at our disposal throughout the trip. Early in our interactions with him, Shaju demonstrated his 'demon on wheels' nature with his reckless (although obviously experienced) driving, in spite of my father's diplomatic attempts to persuade him to try and avoid playing 'Let's-cheat-death-one-more-time!' Our first destination, the hill-station of Munnar was a whopping 5600 feet above sea level and Shaju got us there in about 3 hours (I believe it takes 5 if you don't go at breakneck speeds!). This feat was accomplished on considerably steep roads and included a break we took midway when we stopped to take pictures at a beautiful waterfall. Throughout the drive, my spirits rose as we covered more altitude and as I felt the air grow cooler against my face. [Give me cold weather any day...if there is one thing I have a serious objection to, it is the feeling of perspiration seeping through one's clothing and eventually leaving its sour smell on its victim...it's something one has to experience abundantly in Mumbai (deep sigh).] When we entered Munnar and I saw acre upon acre of the TATA Tea gardens spreading their glorious blankets on every mountainside, I knew I was very close to heaven...

If Mussourie (apparently called "Queen of the Hills") ever got a good look at Munnar, she would abdicate without a single thought. Munnar just takes your breath away. Endless mountains, rolling tea gardens, thick forests with cloud-kissing treetops, the bluest skies you can imagine, the most vibrant flowers...I could cry (seriously!). To top it all, Munnar has a population of only 25,000, most of which is in the tea garden labourer's community or else working in the various resorts and hotels of that place. Moreover, it is literally guaranteed never to lose its greenery because of the interests of the tea barons who literally own most of its hills and look after them most diligently.

Our resort in Munnar, Blackberry Hills, turned out to have the finest view of the Munnar valley, out of all the other resorts in the place. This was no surprise because it occupies literally an intire hillside. One stays in quaint cottage-like accommodations which are arranged in a descending fashion so you really have to WALK to reach different points in the resort...but You wouldn't find me complaining! The experience of clouds drifting past my face, the sensuous nip in the air and the burst of colour that came with all the flowers that grow in that hallowed land was just what I needed (apart from the fact that even uphill climbs did not make me sweat the way I can sweat by just standing in hot and humid places!). Not a single hotel in Munnar has even a fan...you just don't need it in a place which makes you snuggle under your covers on summer nights! :) GOD I love that place!

In the two days that we spent in Munnar we visited the town (which you can literally cover on foot, in about 30 minutes!), Hydel Park (sadly damaged by earlier rains, but hopefully soon to redeem its horticultural splendour), Echo Point and Matupetty Dam (where we had the most glorious speedboat ride in a lake of the most pristine blue your mind can conjure). Even when the sun shone fiercely, the wind was cold...for a Mumbaikar it was like an illusion! Munnar is also the site for an interesting project of the Indian Government, which has imported cows from Switzerland for some hi-fi dairy project. We were lucky to spot some of the beautiful bovines grazing on lush green hillsides, as Shaju sped through mountain paths. They returned our excited scrutiny with the solemn expressions that only cows can achieve.

I could just go on and on about my experiences, but I'll just end by saying this:

"Clouds gambolled in turquoise heavens,
The wind laughed in lofty trees.
Sunshine sparkled on crystal waters,
And my heart sang to the Hills of Munnar"

I truly hope you see Her someday! God Bless!

Elvis Has Left the Building...

Our second goldfish, Elvis, breathed his last, sometime last night...almost exactly two months after Presley left us...

This time, I was better prepared...Presley's demise had been a painful experience, but it had acquainted me most succinctly with the phenomenon of death. Over the last few days, Elvis's behaviour had displayed all the markers that indicated that he would soon be leaving his body behind and I had been able to take myself through the process of anticipatory grief. This helped quite a bit, but nevertheless, a part of me is aching and wishing that I had just a few more days to try and help Elvis. Yesterday, two fluid filled sacs appeared on his head, almost like tumors of some kind. I was alarmed when my sister noticed them...there had been some black markings before, but we were not able to tell what they meant...we had even changed the water in his bowl and medicated it only a couple of days ago. What is more, the hungry lil' fella had stopped eating entirely and spent all his time hiding at the bottom of the bowl. We remembered that these were the signs Presley had shown prior to his death and somehow started preparing for the worst. Nevertheless, I went online and looked for possible diagnoses and cures...finding nothing matching the exact symptoms. There was something about feeding the ailing fish some chopped, skinless peas and I had determined to try this as a last resort, this morning, but by the time I woke up, our helper had already found the lifeless body and buried it with my father's permission...

I think they did a good thing, by not letting me see the body. I'm not really squeamish about such things but I guess it would really have been disconcerting to see Elvis's carcass, just when I had plans to try and treat him. Seeing the large flower pot in which he had been buried, was a quick and abrupt way of making me realise the finality of the situation. There was no use in thinking about what could have been done...Elvis had left and was not about to return...

To mark his passing, all I did was stick some burning incense into the mud that held his little body and say a silent prayer, asking for his spirit to make its way quickly and comfortably into it's next life and body. As I stood there, eyes closed and hands folded, a beautiful sensation closed over me, and I felt that somehow he had heard my prayers. I felt a like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and a gentle tingling sensation spread over my torso and arms. It's difficult to describe how it worked, but in that moment, I just knew that he had moved on and what was under the freshly turned earth in which the incense rapidly burnt its way down to the stub, was at best a transient and feeble reminder of the lively being that had graced my home for over a year. The Elvis that I missed will always be a part of my memories...a flash of orange in a large bowl of water, brighter than the coloured rocks...

Little Girl

Late this morning, I decided to overcome the laziness that inevitably creeps in when one is in the vacation mode, with late nights, later mornings, wonky meal timings and marathon TV sessions. Giving myself a mental slap on the back, I finished my morning session of breathing exercises and made my way to the pool...for someone who hates perspiring as much as I do, swimming is by far the most preferred way of burning some calories.

The apartment complex in which I live, has the luxury of a beautiful swimming pool, not very deep (sadly), but not too shallow either. It has beautiful tiles in three shades of blue, interspersed with white. In summer the water is always pleasant and in winter (if you can call it that in Mumbai!) it's delightfully cold. When I'm in it, I just don't know where the time goes.

This morning, when I emerged from the changing room, I was mildly surprised to find the waters disturbed and another swimmer in the pool (you see, I usually try to ensure that I swim at such a time, when I am most likely to have the pool all to myself...somehow, I treat this shared property as a personal estate!). Moreover, there were all kinds of things in the water; two hideous and garishly coloured plastic fish, a brightly painted ball of some kind, peculiar flat plastic discs of some sort...all bobbing about in sharp contrast to hues of the pool, which fought most desperately to maintain some semblance of their dignity (and failed most miserably, I might add!).

My eyes quickly sought the owner of the little things and found the culprit buoyed by armbands, in the far end of the pool, boldly appraising me as I lowered myself into the same. It was a little girl, her skin browned by the sun, dark hair cut to shoulder length and held up with little clips. The moment I was in the water and about to kick away from the wall she hailed me in a voice that belied her petite form. She called me "Uncle" (a term to which I have a particular objection)...I much prefer "bhaiya" (older brother) when addressed by children; but nevermind that now! Isn't there something wonderful about the way in which a child will reach out to you, completely unabashed, guileless and genuine? I wonder when (and why) most of us stopped being like that...

Despite my dissatisfaction with the condition of the pool, I was unable to ignore this child...just as I can never ignore any child who speaks to me. I've loved babies ever since my first cousin Amu was born (I was only eight years old at the time) and I was allowed to help with looking after her. As more and more adorable cousins were added to the swelling ranks of my grandparents' grandchildren, I got the chance of looking after more babies and watching the older ones grow into children. My love for children, pretty much comes from those experiences...as the oldest of the cousins I still get to look after them, fuss over them, play ridiculous games, even be a little bossy every now and then. Somehow, this attitude has
generalised to my interactions most children, regardless of whether their caregivers are around!

So, when this little girl imperiously asked me to play with her, I had no choice but to oblige her. I spent the next half hour or so doing my laps but also pausing every now and then to reply to her loud, excited questions and demands. During this time, I managed to discover her name, introduced myself and found out that she was six years old and studied in a school called "nursery" (lol!). I helped her gather the floating toys when they moved beyond her reach, dived to bring up the ones that sank and finally gave her a few lessons in using her arms and legs more effectively in the water. That quickly tired her; she announced that she had had enough and that her legs were weary. Her bemused nanny was hovering around the edges of the pool all along, no doubt a little befuddled to find a stranger holding a pleasant conversation with her her excitable little ward. I took the opportunity to hand the child over, said my goodbye and promised to meet up later, upon which she informed me that the next time we met she would like me to jump into the deepest end of the pool along with her...

Beautiful

This morning I found myself being interviewed on various aspects of my academic, social, professional and personal life and aspirations by some senior members of a firm that I had applied to. A little something happened during the course of that session and I decided to share it with you.

One of the interviewers asked me about my hobbies and interests, and one of the first responses I made was about my passion for creative writing, which automatically led to LifeStrings. When I spelt the name of the blog, they asked me to explain the reasons for the choice of this name. I explained the metaphor of the stringed instrument (which you will find in the first article of the November posts) and ended by saying that my friends, my family, my subject, and a myriad other facets of my life are like strings on this instrument...and when they are played in harmony, my life is beautiful...and in the moment I spoke those words, a wave broke over me...I thought...WOW! My life is BEAUTIFUL!

In that very moment, I saw with great clarity the boundless blessings that the Universe has showered on me. I felt so much love for all the wonderful people I've known and continue to be associated with, the experiences that have changed me, my schools, my college, the fact that I have music and art in my life, this world and its wonders...I could just go on and on...to be honest it was quite overwhelming and if my mind had not been distracted by the next question, I'm pretty certain they would have seen tears in my eyes.

How strange that such a brief vocalization led to the liberation of so much energy! Could it be that I'm not usually aware of or thankful for these things? Not really, comes the answer from within. I'm always thankful for the bounties that have been heaped on me and the blessings that continue to come my way. However, I don't often speak to others about it...when I uttered those words, a light bulb (no, make that a beacon!) came on within my mind and just blazed with the meaning that those words have for me. Just about everything looked brighter, including the rather dimly lit room in which we were sitting...And when I left the office, there was a spring in my step that added a couples of units of speed to my normally brisk walk! :)

My life is beautiful...I pray that your life is beautiful too. Maybe reading this entry will make you think along the same lines. My most earnest suggestion to you is to say it aloud....whisper it into the night before you fall asleep...affirm it in the deepest recesses of your soul. God bless!