For Sari

Sari is like second skin to me, though I had never worn it to work before. Have worn it in and around home. Wear it not just to the temples, weddings or family affairs but to the market, movies, dinners, walks... everywhere... again, except office... but why not? why hadn't I draped sari to work? It didn't occur to me until recently I went into work in a sari.

Recalling my seniors wearing Sari for the first time to work, it had been normal... nobody had raised an eyebrow or asked why? But my turn or one from my age group and questions were several... "going on a date?" "anniversary" "engaged?" "birthday?"... or even "why are you dressed like this?"... "Get up get up... A&B told me you are in a sari... please let me see... get up no? get up!" And, also since I work for television I had a few ask me, Was I going on the air...

I had worn a simple jute sari to work, not even those Chiffon Yash Chopra saris that could qualify for a date or an anniversary. Now this is an attire I am so fond of and is in love with that has now raised too many questions. Is it worth wearing it to work? Or should I wear it often enough that it wouldn't seem unusual anymore? Or is sari not meant for the working class of my age group unless may be I am working with an Airline or a Hotel, largely Hospitality business? Why is my most loved outfit, sari going through this crisis? Is it just a phase? Can I save it? Not that you don't see people in one... Of course you do but an older age group...

For the time being I had let it be... and went about with my work and didn't bother to be too conscious... but then I must admit I had a good day though I was stopped over and over again by every single colleague to ask: "Why sari...?" My day was good particularly because I didn't have anyone loathe it, in fact, all were in appreciation and awe of it and more so when they discovered it wasn't a date, birthday, engagement or the likes they had suspected.

But Sari is my most favourite and undoubtedly the most comfortable clothing in my wardrobe for any occasion of course except for your sporty outing and biking... I guess that is alright to all the advantage it has.

Like I had been to a Nationalised Bank a week ago to open a savings account, my request was turned down and that I cannot open one because of blah blah blah reasons. I walked in three days later to the same bank and I was treated with great regard and offered a seat and water. Not only did I get an account opened, I also had them serve me with great respect and the Manager even offered me his personal number to be contacted any time I had any problems with the Bank. And it obviously was me both times to the same bank... Just that I was in a shirt and a pair of jeans the first time and a  cotton sari the second time... It was a sari that had me treated like a client they wanted to please...

So definitely, thanks to saris. And I guess it is alright to give my saris a break when I am out biking or rock climbing...

But for my age group sari is an unfamiliar, 5 and a half meter long piece of fabric that is not as comfortable as the trousers and T or salwar-kurtis are. Well! I think it is just a matter of getting used to and often impossible to get used to once you are used to a pair of trousers and comfy shirts/blouses...

Washed away!

Drizzled? Yes it did. But I wanted more, more than just the luring few drops, which stroke my body. Like a teaser the sky would blush and then roar in a dark tinge as though to chuck it down and I would await a downpour to get drenched in, to walk endlessly into nowhere, into nothing. But I would be left taunted and mocked with no sign of anything, not even the promised drizzle!

No meteorologist could ever tell or even try to forecast rain, for it (the rain) never obeyed. At its will, it had gotten away. To reign or not to reign?… was the question. My meteorologist friend failed every time he attempted the forecast- “Hey weather man it is OK… these days with climate change and environmental issues you couldn’t have done any better. Your knowledge is inadequate and the Meteorology course might need cramming in of more papers in the syllabus to deal with the recent and expedited environmental issues.” I joked, oops! That spun his anger… He was disgusted and yes not amused at all. It was his profession at stake, his skill in question. I could only grin…

I can recall the best weather person ever- my good old nan. She knew exactly when it would rain, if it did by when it would stop and how long would it go on for…the harvest that season, the yielding and what not? But now even the ones holding a PhD in the tongue spraining subject (Meteorology) can hardly tell what’s next.

But little had the rain Gods known of what I had believed in, how I consoled myself that the nature was all mine... believe it rains when i am sad and teary-eyed... Pardon the blogger here –enraptured in a world she has woven to let herself lose. So, let the nature be hers, the enticement of the world be hers, the brilliance of the gems be hers, the luminescence of the night be hers… let her rule this world! Don’t hinder or you’ll be doomed. Let her be rapt, don’t warn her or wake her to the world you live in. Let her be.

I pinched myself to see if I was fine, how come I am glum and the nature is not? It (the nature) always did worry about me if none at all did. So now when I am upset and sad and crying why isn’t it raining? And when I am happy and elated it isn’t responding again… Oh! Can it be true? Maybe, it is under the spell of the other. Oh yes it is! Now it all makes sense.

The spell better be reversed and I must get all of the blissful showers to myself and please start helping, contributing, power saving, recycling- the only way to brew the potion to cast the spell away. I need my world saved and the love and care and protection that was unconditional and perpetual.

Oh! Just let it free uh... Really?

An acquaintance of mine keeps sending me forwards on LOVE, PYAAR, ISHQ, blah blah blah.....

Not that I condemn this but here you go look at this: I just recieved it:

I once had a friend who grew to be very close to me.Once when we were sitting at the edge of a swimming pool; she filled the palm of her hand with some water and held it before me, and said this:

"You see this water carefully contained in my hand? It symbolizes Love."

This was how I saw it: As long as you keep your hand caringly open and allow it to remain there, it will always be there.

However, if you attempt to close your fingers round it and try to posses it, it will spill through the first crack it finds. This is the greatest mistake that people do when they meet love... they try to posses it, they demand, they expect... and just like the water spilling out of your hand, love will retrieve from you. For love is meant to be free, you cannot change its nature. If there are people you love, allow them to be free beings.

# Give and don't expect.

# Advise, but don't order.

# Ask, but never demand.

It might sound simple, but it is a lesson that may take a lifetime to truly practice. It is the secret to true love. To truly practice it, you must sincerely feel no expectations from those who you love, and yet an unconditional caring."Passing thought... Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take; but by the moments that take our breath away...

WOW!!! that was Swami Vivekananda, one of the forwarded mails... Beautiful to know but painful to realize. Are we all so selfless to love anyone so much that we find beauty in actions of love and walk over our ego?

You know this right...? Gone are the days when love was spiritual, magical, magnanimous, ungrudging-admiration, idolizing, devotion...!!! Days of the sort even existed? Whoever says they did... oh well lovely legendary tales... Are they? Oh did I sound craggy... Ooops... well that wasn't my intention at all.

But sure obviosuly one is always happy to read and feel happy about the recorded scriptures on LOVE or rather LUUUHV..... that they can go to any extent with it but when it comes to functioning the way... snap and they are gone, so would I be.... OK by now, I am in stitches...

But well even I enjoyed reading this. Laxmi yes... what a hypocrite!!! Sorry I cannot lobour for LOVE or whatever it is called.

Contemplating

Trip back from Bangkok via Srilanka- transit... stay over in Colombo's Browns Beach Hotel... least asked for!!! Getting back seemed far-flung. But did I actually want to be back? May be I did... exhausted, anxious, jittery... yet longing to get back to see your loved ones smile. But of course not all are your loved ones... and there are those who make you frown, yeeeuuw just their presence... Can one possibly escape anything? so just GRIN AND BEAR!

How can a day be longer than 24 hours? Trust me it was... No seriously... it was!!! The thought of staying over was baneful and for all the sublime days I spent in Thailand, this stop over... definitely wasn't needed at all.

But Irony!!! Browns Beach Hotel was quite a neat place, yes NEAT as my dear friend would put it... and I had forgotten it was a transit and was lost or may be even rapt to even know I was heading home... home did I say? HOUSE rather.

I once told Nic: "home for me isn't any place in particular... but it is when I am with the right kind of people." I was applauded for it. I was quite proud of what I had said. But was it to the right kind of people I was coming back to? I could nod when I thought of some and then quell at the thought of many... not just people but troubles and situations...

Moving on... I had a wonderful evening in Colombo and couldn't remember when I fell off to sleep... wake up call from the reception and there I was getting ready to leave...

A pleasant trip back with a warm and benevolent couple flying down with me to Bangalore. They looked really happy together... even in their 60s or 70s!!! The man spoke to me with such warmth and love, something so mesmerizing about him and every time he mentioned something to me... he would look to his right where his wife was sat as if to get a confirmation nod from her of the facts he was delivering... and that to me was a reassuring fact about relationships. Whoever did that now???

She had a gentle smile and did I become their someone for a minute... or throughout the trip without them realizing and was it just me secretly? A sense of belonging. It felt great... reminded me of times and occasions I had lived and wished it would manifest again. How daft!!! Surprisingly, it was difficult to say bye to the two... like they had become someone close in just an hour and 10 minutes. I sped up ahead of them... immigration, baggage claim and off I was gone. Prayed hard and wished to see them again... why? Strange feeling... it lasts though.

Our state of normalcy is a term that does not occur. At times I feel I question if I am living at the mercy of my parents’ early departure from my life? It is said, “whatever happens or whatever has happened is for the good.” So is this what it is? Am I meant to enjoy their absence in my life and dwell on sympathies? Do I do that? I think I do... shamelessly fall prey to pseudo love and affection. I gaze at intimacy... a child in her mother's arms, little girls clinging on to their father's fingers, walking the streets... why does it hurt? Why don't I be happy about it?

Wander away mind and rest placidly. You are stronger than I am... so let us take this joyous ride together... but don't lose me... or else I will sob.

QuIXotIsM

Dwelt in a conch
By the shingle of the beach
Snoozing day and night
No wayfarer did pay her any heed

Hi-jacked into the novel lands
She lay in her dream painted conch wall
Chafed against the sand and waves
Her home lost its shine and lustre

Many a passerby did kick her past
Her abode like a mother's womb guarded
Buried in the sandy beach, shrieked and wailed
Dream painted walls darkened into nightmares

Perishing under the sandy beach, choked and suffocated
But ebbs and flows were to her rescue
Updrew her, where she laid; the Insomniac
Neither dreams nor fantasies abducted her any longer.

Sun seeped into her conch another day
Unlike before she gleamed
A loony traveller did spent some time there that day
His compassion enclasped her and along he carried her

Spiritless

She laid in her bed unperturbed of anything
She knew her days were counted
Her smile endured all kins' tears
They swarm around as though to guard

The verdict of the practitioner was impertinent
"allopathy fails but homoeopathy and ayurveda?"so said her kith
She was enslaved by love, her will betrayed her
Her smile waned like she sensed a tempest brewing

First was homoeo then ayurveda,
One by one she laboured the fate of remedies
Reduced to skin and bones she laid in her death bed
Her eyes pondered through to meet her posterity's

Lot seemed to be said but words were few
Drawing the two closer she said she wanted to be freed

Freed from her bleeding bosom,

From the clasp of the oxygen cylinder,like a cattle tethered down

Days were done, my leave grew to a close
She pleaded me to stay till her soul was freed
Took no notice, taken her love for granted,walked away to parent my life
To hear she was gone, she was spiritless...and am I too?

Cliched Love...

Lakhs lavish their love on me,
Lakhs tarnish their love on me.

Infinite are the reasons to love,
Infinite are the lessons to love.

My birth forces the parental love
bound to parental duty,
concern and care, affection and affinity
Was that what I craved for?

My activities and fame causes the laity’s love
a break from the social chaos and worries,
admiration and appreciation, blessings and blisses.
Was that what I craved for?

My bubbly self and transient moods bind up the love of friendship
Out of gratitude to disentangled problems and timely amusements,
fun and faith, gossips and grins.
Was that what I craved for?

My accidents and mischances arouses the well wisher love
solacing gestures provoking sympathy,
pats and paxes, altruism and advices.
Was that what I craved for?

Comprehend my disconsolated identity, fondle my exhausted spirit.
Aloof me from my vengeful enemy, he follows me like a hound.
He poisons my breathing space, suffocating my air.
So harsh is my enemy, so brutal is my enemy.

A master of witchery and witchcraft,
cast an evil spell on my future and present.

My enemy’s triumphant smile at my frenzied state,
My relinquished smile at my defeated state.
My enemy and the disgruntled me soon signed an alliance
Allies for life, my love for life
I love my enemy
I love my past!

My suppressed cries and dry tears,
cant be seen by the lakhs,
cant be heard by the lakhs.

Lakhs lavish their love on me,
Lakhs tarnish their love on me.