A dose of reality

Mom has been living with me in my tiny apartment for over three months now. She came to visit me under somewhat unfortunate circumstances, with me being sick and all. I've noticed that she has single-handedly  redefined selflessness with the care and support she has provided.  Really aspirational stuff. Needless to say though, three months is a long time and we're both on the verge of "absolute bananas". So when my friend invited us to visit her beautiful home in Vermont, I leaped (not literally, no) at the opportunity. Desperate for a change of scenery and knowing moms love of nature, I knew this would be perfect for both of us. Besides, I could have my own space and she, hers. Have to admit, was more than mildly excited by that thought. 

We left 'wicked' early on a gloomy Saturday morning, my friend in the driver's seat. The weather forecast declared rain for the entire weekend, a decision I was not happy with *Hullo! Mr. Weatherman*. As we drove through the mild rain and mist, the fall colors commanded our attention. Every nook, turn, long and short stretch of road was laden with the most spectacular sights. Reds, oranges, yellows, light greens, like a palette of English colors was strewn across miles on end. Fields and mountains alike, all beautiful, every leaf in its natural skin, untempered by chlorophyll ;)

Vermont, derived from the French word "les Verts Monts" (meaning the Green Mountains),  is the second least populous of the 50 states that comprise the US of A. Originally, Vermont was inhabited by the Native Americans after which much of it was colonized by the French in the early colonial period and eventually ceded to Britain in 1763 (at this point I have to say, thank you Wikipedia). To experience Vermont though, is something unique. When they say second least populous, they were not kidding. You're sitting in the car literally having an out of body experience. You drive for miles and miles with nothing but mountains around you. The mere sight of a human being is almost odd. Like, * woah * I don't think this thing belongs here.

We reached her home in Hancock, VT by noon. Let me tell you something about this land. She has 40 acres, atop a mountain, surrounded by mountains. This should be a replacement of the 'good, better, best' superlative. By the time we got there, the sun was shining, the skies were the bluest blue and the clouds, were wonderfully white. It felt like nature had overhauled her entire attire, just to greet us. So nice of her really (Probably knows my mom). We left our bags in our bed rooms and had the most pleasant conversation sitting on her deck. I closed my eyes for a few, a heightened awareness, my other senses taking over. I could hear only the sounds of the Texas waterfalls at a distance, a bird chirped from time to time and separately there was an overpowering stillness of silence. I could breathe, really, really breathe! Clean, pure, crisp air charged with energy like no other. 

We took a short car ride to the next town over. My friend spotted a chair she had been wanting to buy in an antique store in the "(still) quieter" part of this town. Time for another surreal experience. Stepping into that antique store was like stepping back in time. The mere smell of it felt 100's of years old. There were the strangest of kitchen utensils and the oldest of hoosier cabinets. The kid who worked there restored old musical instruments, my favorite part of the store :) Unfortunately, the chair was not to be bought as the kid couldn't figure out the price and was momentarily distracted by the fact that there was a "weasel running around in the store". * Just btw *. He actually said "Don't panic if you see something flopping around your feet. It's just a weasel".

Back to the house and much like life, the clarity of the sun-shiny day moment was short-lived. Within a few hours (just like Mr Weatherman predicted) came the big, black ominous looking clouds. Surreal experience # 4 or 5? Oh who knows! We've all seen rainbows, some really fantastic ones, some faint. But I'd never in my life witnessed an entire rainbow. Beginning to end. Actually, I felt like I was at the end and this was my pot of gold. Who can now not believe in something divine. I understand science explains everything. Almost. I wish it would explain this moment and why it chose me to experience it the way I did. Yes, I will file this under "Divine".  

As the clouds dispersed after their tea party, the sun loomed over the mountains gracefully calling it a day. I bade farewell under a blood red sky as it disappeared behind the mountains. I read somewhere that you must witness the sunrise and sunset at least once a year. It seems ridiculous that we can live our lives without realizing these every day miracles.

Along came the night. I love, love, love, black. Probably my most favorite color behind blue. But this black, was something else. With each passing moment after the sun retired for the day the winds howled through the vast expanse of mountains and darkness took over. It was hard to believe just a few hours ago- this was all light! Much after the sun set, we bundled up in our coats, jackets and caps, stepped back onto the deck. The lights were switched off. Darkness engulfed me entirely. It was the most eerie couple of minutes I had ever experienced. Miles and miles of the surrounding mountains are conserved forests. So there was not a light in sight. No lamps, nothing. Absolute darkness. You waved your hand in front of your face, and you couldn't see it. Even now I feel a shiver down my spine. And then, you look up and see stars. Millions of them. Clusters, constellations describe it any which way. Surreal. 

For a city girl like me, my senses were in overdrive with the spectacular display nature put up for me. What I experience every day is unreal. I tarnish my life with layers of ignorance. THIS, is real. It is spectacular, breathtaking and surreal, every single day since the dawn of time. This is grace.

I thank my friend, with absolute sincerity, for giving me the best medicine any doctor could have ever ordered. A dose of reality. :-)

The Long Letter

I wrote myself a letter. An honest one.

You were sitting by a window watching the rainfall, listening to Bon Iver. You were touched by the blanket of pathos that the music weaved around you, and you tugged at it and let it envelope you completely. From the deepest of the deep, came a thought. Am I happy? What followed was a response too dark to handle.

“No”. The rain observed your tears in silence.

An honest conversation. You’re so adept at passing advice, telling others how to live their lives, cautioning them when they deviate from the trodden path and urging them to happiness. Seldom do you have the gut or fortitude to do this for yourself. Face your own demons; forgive yourself for your failures and mistakes. It’s always about “other people”. Sometimes the blame, sometimes the focus. More so, you exhibit fear. You’re scared to want, to dream, to desire and think the unthinkable for yourself.

You chose to have this conversation and for this, I’ll be eternally grateful. Now everything is out in the open. These puzzle pieces. These magical puzzle pieces. You fit them once to create a picture. The beauty is - you can pull them apart, observe them and fit them again to craft a different picture. Magic! Believe in it. Believe me.

A reflection. You are sometimes bold and fearless. Somewhere in your mind you know you are accomplished and different from everyone. Your thoughts are unique and special. Sometimes you feel like someone should make a movie about your life. And then you laugh at the arrogance of it all and brush it away thinking everyone is special and everyone is unique. We have that in common, it’s all one.

If someone told you at the beginning of this year, that you would be virtually immobile and handicapped for some of it, you would have said – “I don’t have the time for this! ;)”. And yet, it happened. You had a goal and vision but more importantly, you always had the “never say die” attitude. And yet you did, in a way. It came at the strangest time. You were walking down a staircase thinking a million thoughts and as you put your foot down with three steps to go, your hip broke. You stood on the step, your body shaking in shock and on the verge of blacking out. Someone came in the nick of time to rescue you from a state of absolute collapse. The rest is history.

Each of those three remaining steps became monumental. You forgave them, all three of them. You forgave yourself. If you were a self-help guru, you would have constructed “The 3 pillars to a better life”. “The 3 step process to curing insanity” (my personal favorite). “The 3 noble truths to the real you”. But let’s refrain. Talk less, understand and do more.

It took something painful to remind you of how numb you’ve become. There is no greater pain than feeling nothing. Now, if you felt joy no matter what the circumstance, probably Buddha might have been proud of you. Your struggles the past few months have been endless. The questions, the reactions, the outbursts and the solitude of it all. My favorite ones - the “Why me’s?” I absolutely LOVE the why me questions. I love how they beautifully shift the focus away from the real issues that need to be resolved. The mind provides all the raw materials to support the manufacture of “Why me’s”. They are so thoughtless and mundane requiring minimal effort, so the cost of producing a single why me is miniscule taking into context the destruction it’s able to cause. Quite a nuclear bomb quality, really. Thank you for closing down this factory. Congratulations. You’re one step closer to peace.

A conclusion. This hardship wasn’t really one of high quality to be honest. There will be several others, far worse. So don’t get too dramatic about your accomplishment of surviving it. Your real struggles –physical, mental and emotional begin now. Your three “steps” are in fact three mountains to climb. Learn yourself, to be tough, to be still and balanced. Learn what makes you happy. Learn that the heart is a good place to reside. But more than anything - learn in humility, to be inspired by your own story.

The A-ha station

My brother won't ever let me forget how I broke the train set when I was a baby. HIS train set. I apparently grabbed the tracks and made tiny pieces of them. He always reminds me of this awful act at every opportunity. Every little family gathering he tells the tale of how I "DESTROYED" the tracks. In jest of course.

To put an end to this track-trash talk, my sister-in-law and I decided I would buy my 2 year old nephew a train set for Christmas. My sweet, darling nephew. You may remember him from this post. Let me tell you something about this kid, he teaches me life's lessons in unique ways. He likes to enjoy simple things, be affectionate, be crazy, be quirky, make people laugh, ask them "are you ok?" if they look sad or anxious. He is magical, fascinated by almost everything, and asked his first "why" question this past weekend. He recognizes Monet paintings, Beethoven's symphonies, Egyptian Pharaohs. This is no ordinary kid. He knows planets, show him a picture of Mt Rushmore and he points to the extreme right and says "Lincoln". And his "Ok"s are always "Okie Dokie donk". (No one has a clue where the "donk" comes from).

So we head to Toy's R Us, which is like heaven on earth for young mother's and kids and we pick the largest, awesomest train set we see. 500-piece, imaginarium train set:D It took a total of 2 adults, one teenage kid working at the store and one hyper baby to get that box into the car. By this moment I am delirious and can't wait to see the expression on my brother's face. Rehearsing my various opening lines "HA! Take thattt" seemed most appropriate. What ensued was a complete antithesis.

We opened the box and realized 500 pieces, they were not kidding:O Everything had to be assembled. Planks of wood, nails, tools, and boxes and boxes of countless little things. Nothing was "playable" without the assembly. Completely disheartened, I went downstairs and asked my brother to help me. Of course I got a "HA! this is a 3-day project. Are you crazy! There is no way I can do this now!". Damn, serves me for getting so carried away at my so called conquest of a life-long problem :) And then I decided I'm going to do it. I'm going to build this thing on my own. I took the tool box from the garage and locked my self in the room. I realized that I didn't feel so driven to take on something and complete it in a long, long time. I just wanted to see my nephews expression, it was as simple as that. I wanted to see the look of amazement on his face when he saw this thing. This massive structure of fascinating objects that moved, climbed mountains, went through bridges, through train and gas stations, moved cargo, and made their way home to the roundhouse assembly.

I built the table, I built drawers, used tools I never had even seen before. Learned about different types of nails, screwdrivers, wood and symmetry. It was absolutely joyful. And I kept going, kept going. Then finally I put the plank on the table and started to build the various stations, the assembly line, the bridges. Once all the pieces were built, I started laying down the tracks. They were of 7 different sizes and had to be laid out in a certain order. My sister-in-law joined me on this final lap and we looked at the map and started laying down the tracks.

Finally, after approximately 8 hours of sweat, toil, incredible learning and hard-work later, we sat back and watched the magic unfold. It is hard to explain in a few words (or even in plenty of words) what the look on my nephew's face was. He held the trains and moved them along the tracks. He recognized that they stuck to each other and tried to understand why. There were small circular magnets that allowed trains to stick together and form a trail. He recognized that this similar circular object was atop the cargo boxes and used the crane to lift them and unload them on the train. He let the trains speed up down the mountains and slowed down near the station. His small hands tried to collect as many trains as possible and line them on the tracks. His tiny feet moved quickly alongside the table to keep up with the train. All this, while we just stood back and watched him grow by the minute. I felt like we had brought a whole new meaning to his little life :)

Of course, my other a-ha moment came when my brother saw the fruit of my labor and said "WOW! Now that's how you give a gift :D May be you were so driven because...YOU BROKE MY TRAIN SET"!!! :O Sigh! I guess, some things will never change. While other things will change us forever. :)

Knowing Me

Today, my friend Lynn tore a few pages of a writing pad and gave them to me. Each page had this image.

A few lines that meant so much Lynn. Thank you.

:)

Release

When I was 5, my dad was given the special opportunity to go and do a 6-month program at the University of Cardiff. I didn't realize the prestige of being invited to something like that until recently. Back then, in my eyes he had "fair-skinned friends" and it felt fascinating. I distinctly remember one professor at the university. He took a liking to my ever-so studious father and when he made a visit to India, he came over for dinner one night. I remember my mother opening the doors of the balcony as he stood and stared at the view. I remember his words "Murdy, you have a millionaire's view, you have a millionaire's view."

That line somehow remained in my head for the longest time. I took a picture I had of the "millionaire's view" and put it on my desktop at work. A colleague passed by and gasped "Where is thatt!". Would you believe if I said Mumbai? The non-slum, snake charmers and elephants, part.

The millionaire's view had tiny boats filled with fresh fish. Every morning these boats would come into the harbor after spending three days at sea. Every morning at 6am people would throng to the water’s edge and stand on a protruding stretch of land that over-looked the boats. I always thought that they would fall down into them and then I would hear the sirens going off declaring a state of emergency. But it never happened. The fishermen would take baskets of fish and fling them upwards to the keen, standing buyers. I always thought those baskets would suddenly burst open and the fish would fall all over the place instead of making their way into the hands of their master. But that never happened either. The movements were made with precision and incredible timing. If they played sports, the fishermen would make incredible bowlers or pitchers ;) As the day went by, while the masters enjoyed their seafood meals, the fishermen began their journey into the sea again. It would be nice to one day talk "emotions" with the Mumbai fisherman. Like Bach did about flying, did he enjoy the waters, the adventure of fishing, did he find passion in his profession, was it beautiful? Isolating and lonely?

Beyond this precision, timing and fun activity was a very old mill. It just lay, aging and groany. Once in a way it was all spruced up when some big-wig producer in the Bollywood film-industry wanted a place near the water to film a low-budget song. We would spend months on end listening to same lines repeating and repeating, like a stuck record. It didn't help that some of the actors were terrible dancers. And then suddenly, after 4-5 months you would see it on television. And say "of my god, that's my house there at the back!". And then you would hear it in the rickshaws and think the same thought. The song held little meaning without "my house there at the back!"

The millionaire's view also held the breathtaking backwaters of the Arabian sea. We faced the east, the sun rose and the waters glistened like gold. Kind-off like the Grand Canyon in McKenna’s Gold. Always reminded me of that. The few times I woke up really early to witness this miracle of the sunrise, my mother would come into the balcony and do a quick prayer to the sun god, and even if she didn't, I knew she was praying in her mind. I would smell tea with ginger, yes, morning had arrived. On full moon night's, the water's had a different kind-off glisten. Calming, like a smooth black velvetty calm. The fisherman would have enjoyed this night I used to think. And the lighthouse would hum light, dark, light, dark.

There was a giant old tree to the far right, a magnificent, majestic creature. It bowed gracefully and let the wind pass through. It always seemed perfectly harmonious with its surroundings. I sometimes wish I was like that tree. At the foot of the tree was an old heritage home, built by the British when they were seriously messed up and thought they could rule the world forever. I meant to ask the Cardiff professor that, what were you thinking, really. Outside the house was a small seating area under the tree, which had a small glass cupboard and an idol of a god. I always thought someone would break that glass down one day while playing cricket in front of the house. It never happened. Or maybe someone one day would steal the idol. That didn't happen either.

It's all coming back to me today. Just a simple minimizing the screen on the work laptop and I am transported into another time, another place. A picture is worth a thousand words, but a single memory...that's an unending story.

Twenty Ten

And a new year beckons. Just like that, in a moment of wonder, and endless planning, task, milestone and goal setting. What have I achieved, what have I yet to achieve, resolutions, promises and all that.

Life needs to be more simple. Someday I will break down these walls that I built around me, systematically, step by step, brick by brick. Or maybe one day when I wake up the wall will cease to exist. My mind will destroy it simply, by the click of a button. Or even better, I will acquire supernatural powers to just walk through it without feeling any hurt or pain, without feeling anything at all, very numbly, in a centered way.

Life needs to be more balanced. Someday I will multitask to perfection, have everything complete well in time. Beautifully and satisfactorily. Lists will cease to exist momentarily. Someday I will rest after my tasks are complete and not feel the angst to begin creating new tasks for myself as the old ones draw to an end. Or maybe I will learn quickly to oscillate perfectly between routine and rest, between escaping and facing, between running and living.

Someday things will change for the better on new year's day.

The Man In The Arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

- Theodore Roosevelt, April 23, 1910.