[Experiences] Day Thirty

A life-changing December for many in my city, it sure has been! Nature’s fury threw us out of our complacent routines and made us focus on the important things in life. Adding an internal layer to this all-consuming external force, this was the month I had taken upon myself to write a blog article every single day for thirty days.

Originally, it was an attempt in silencing some voices within. When you have been ignoring what you love, voices can taunt you saying, ‘You have lost the spark’ and ‘Your words are dead!’ On the brink of believing that, I rebelled and decided to challenge this voice and write, no matter what. Yes, I could have written secret little articles on my laptop, just for my eyes. But, when one writes knowing other eyes will see it, one writes with the power it gives and the responsibility it asks. So, I took this challenge, trusting life. And, without fail, every single day, there was something to move me to write, to create, and to marvel. A few experiences, I went in search of; many, just came my way. I seized it all and made this December, one to remember!

Through sickness of loved ones and the consequent sleeplessness; Through the luxury of inspiration but poverty of time that is travel; Through the ups and downs of everyday life - Through it all, I kept going. But surprisingly, not one day did it feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like a balm, whatever was happening within or without.

As I shared thoughts and experiences, I felt a sense of calm enveloping me. I saw the creative child in me leaping with joy at being given these free reins! As this led me inward to heal those wounds of time that’s there in everyone, it simultaneously made me reach out to the world outside, to my long-lost friends and to people I meet every day, with a new humanity. It was a journey, to thirty different places in thirty days, bringing out a thirty different me.

As I wrote day after day, not aiming for my nitpicking perfection but for a sincere consistency, I found creativity to be an inexhaustible well. As I fetched each pail, I saw new ideas gushing in. Many a time, words that I knew not existed within me, came alive. It seemed like a whisper of the universe and the shout of every atom, all at once.

I see this as an exercise to show not just to myself but also to you, that you can break those barriers in your head and go towards whatever it is you want. You will know if it’s right or not when you get there. I hope, like me, you will come to realize that the only person standing in the way of your creativity is you! Go on, take up a challenge and prove it to yourself you can do it, if you ‘will’ so. Make that promise to the most important person in your life - you!

Now that I have fulfilled that promise I made to myself, I look at the fluttering flag atop this small hill. I turn to look lovingly at every mile behind me with a content smile. As I stand here at this moment, a kinder, warmer voice within says ‘This is not the end!’ It wordlessly points to those rugged mountains at a distance. And, I gaze ahead with hope!

[Reflections] As you beckon with love...

The everyday death; the fountainhead of life; the doctor of troubles; the priest of desires; the undertaker of the past; the foreteller of the future - What would we be without you, O Sleep! 

Isn’t it often said that one must forget sleep to make dreams come true? Do you think so? Don’t we find our lives going for a toss, if we do just that, no matter how aligned we are to our dreams. Perhaps, the saying is just to remind you that just dreaming won’t get you what you want. Perhaps, sleep here is the kind of sleep we do with eyes open - in refusing to do what’s good; In refusing to give up what’s not right.

What happens when one has to lose a lot of sleep, all the time? Volcanoes burst in the head at the merest trifles. It’s like setting a forest fire to light a lamp. On the other hand, after a night of calming sleep, even mountains seem moveable. Winds of serenity and waves of creativity flow within the soul.

An image of a classroom pops up. It’s the dreaded afternoon hour after lunch. The professor is going on about some little facet of study that is going to be of no use in another three years. They must buy his voice for those sleep lab demos. Instant soporific! Our friend, after a night of late-night partying in the hostel, seems to be tightrope walking between conking out and keeping eyes open. There, gravity wins and a head suddenly plonks on the desk! Next instant, a chalk lands on his head. Bulls-eye! They must ship off the professor to ISRO. What a precise launch and landing! A wave of muffled laughter pulses through the class. Another image of a conference room and a comatose colleague flashes by. Sleep sure has entertained us in more ways than one!

It’s my guess that the lack of sleep somehow has a huge role to play in half the wars happening around the world. Speaking of which, among warring couples, one might have the philosophy that says, ‘Stay up till you finish the fight!’

And, the other may say, ‘No talking in the night!’

‘How can you sleep now, with all these issues burning? one rages.

‘How can you want to talk, when your mind can’t find meaning?’ another responds.

This second speaker, no matter what his/her flaws may be, has won the argument hands down. Best thing would be to set a calendar reminder for the next morning to finish the fight and take one’s troubles to one’s own counselor, Dr. Sleep!

Isn’t sleep the one territory in which one reigns supreme? In spite of Inception The Movie, I don’t think there’s any way to enter another’s dreams, no matter how much one may want it. The only way is to be around a person, in a good or bad way and that person’s mind will decide if you make a difference enough to be let in and either way, you never know if you have been let in. In there, lies many valuable lessons. If, in sleep, when we have no control, we let no one into our minds, then why do we, when we are conscious and in control, let people and their words, actions and thoughts affect us? Why not learn to let it all pass like a dream even when awake. And, when a day of this is done, remember not to keep that lover called sleep waiting…

[Random] All in a Day's Work

Outside a clinic, hangs a board with smiling men and women in white coats. The text proclaims ‘Athena White’. A woman and a man in their thirties approach the clinic. They walk at a balanced distance, not as close as lovers, not as far as strangers, at the point of convergence called marriage. A receptionist with a dazzling smile greets them. He nods them in and asks them to wait in the reception area. He tells them, ‘The hygienist will call you in once the room is ready.’ The man meddles with his mobile while the woman takes in the atmosphere. The place looks as if it’s been refurbished since she was last here. Her eyes fall on the date flashing on the wall - 28/12/15. 

After some time, the man gets a call on the phone and just then, an attender arrives to call them in. The husband gestures to his wife to go in first. She enters a room and sees hi-tech medical instruments - probes, scrapers, polishers and other assorted unnameable ones. The hygienist starts her work. She peers inside and says, ‘You have some deposits. Not much. But watch out for the sensitivity’. With her probing eyes, she picks up an sharp instrument. An attender stands close by, with a long tube to suck in the waste the hygienist dislodges. The hygienist painstakingly scrapes off the deposits. 

‘When was the last time you were here?’, she asks.

 ‘In May’, comes the reply. 

‘The sockets should be tighter. But they have loosened a bit. Add a massage routine everyday.’ she advises. The woman on the slanting couch, nods her head silently. As the hygienist proceeds, she squirms a bit as a sensitive nerve is touched now and then. The cleaning goes on nevertheless and finally, it is done. The woman scans around and feels it to be fresh and clean. Satisfied, she walks out and sends her husband in.

Taking a look at the man, the hygienist tells herself, ‘This is going to be a dicey one. At least his wife took some pains to routinely clean. He has been slack.’ It’s a painful, bloody affair, as the hygienist works her way around. But meticulously, she makes up for his lack of care and attention. Months of sediments peel away. Deep inside, the healthy and the unhealthy have gotten intimate and it’s hard to get them to break up.

‘Too busy a life he leads, no doubt’, the hygienist tells herself. After a long and soul-searching effort, the cleaning is complete. In spite of all the bleeding, she acknowledges the inherent strength. A lot of wear and tear but he’s essentially strong, she decides. 

‘He certainly bites more than he can chew’ she quips to herself. While all these theories go on in her head, as a true professional, she gives nothing away. Done with her work, she smiles and recommends that it would be better for him to meet another specialist. 

He comes out and his waiting wife sees traces of the strain and asks, 

‘How was it? What did she say?’

‘Not a single problem. So perfect and fine!’, he replies.

They both start laughing.

She makes a face at him and asks, ‘How do I look?’ 

‘Great, as always!’, he replies.

The receptionist hands out the bill, with a even more dazzling smile. The woman settles it and they both get ready to leave. Just before she opens the door, as if she remembered something, the woman turns and asks the waiting hygienist, 

“Your name? I want to recommend you to a friend. When did you join this place?’ 

The hygienist points to her badge with a smile, and says, ‘2114’.

It reads, ‘Mana, Mental Hygienist’.

[Reflections] An Ode to Philia

Who is a friend? Someone who first comes to your mind when you see those hilarious Whatsapp memes? Someone whose face flits by when you are feeling down in the dumps? That one person who has been there for a long time? One of those many people who were there at different points in time? Someone who lives only in your memory? Someone you are living with, everyday? Someone you play a badminton game with? Someone you have long arguments with? Someone you laugh with? Someone on whose shoulders you cry on? Someone you felt an instant connection with? Someone you lost over the years? You’re right! There is no single answer, rule, logic or formula to have or be a friend. Even when nothing much is happening in the here and now, a friend still inspires that inexpressible feeling that makes you feel you’re alright.

Meeting and making a friend is as miraculous as being born, as falling in love! How did you happen to be at a place and time and with a certain attitude and mood to attract such a person into your life? What are the odds of something like that happening? Perhaps even the smallest, most irrelevant decision at some point in life could have made you meet or lose someone. It’s hard to imagine who we’ll be without that friend who was maybe there only briefly. What we know not, we cannot miss. What we know, we cannot bear to miss!

At one point in life, we couldn’t imagine a day passing without meeting a certain person. With that same person, months and even years now pass without a single word. When life seems to squeeze us from all directions, sometimes we decide reaching out to friends is more than we can handle. One lives life like a modern Robinson Crusoe, self-marooned in a concrete jungle. Yet, even when everything is going well, there seems to hang an air of desolation. An emptiness yearning for the echo of friendship!

Some friends are lost to distance and some to time. Some bridges have broken down beyond repair and the chasm seems too wide to cross. Perhaps, all you can do is to send a silent wish: ‘Our lives have got in between us. But I wish you well for the good you once did.’ Some other bridges are still hanging in there… by a few strands. You know that because those luscious once-upon-a-time memories are getting vague like an uncared-for painting with color fading, contours mingling and just a blur of the old glory remaining in your mind.  

As one finds many such bridges giving way, winds of loneliness swirl through the gaps and the mind seems to torment in a thunderous voice, ‘You are all one. You will always be alone’. You cannot reign over your mind if you fight it as if it were a devil in disguise. But if you can see that it’s a little child, a little you, throwing a tantrum, crying for a real friend, then you have hope. Go on, write that letter, make that call and you will know, how that act can change you around. To see dreams like yours hidden within one; To feel the joy of togetherness in another’s family; To bask in the affection of a long-forgotten voice; To hold one’s hand in listening to an ordeal faced; To celebrate the miracle of being blessed in trying circumstances. Feel yourself become so very light and rejoice in your capacity to love beyond your flesh and blood and watch it ripple outward to all of humanity.  

[Random] Gushing river!

A blank page;

A barren land;

Whatever flows flows.

No barring the surging waves;

No stopping the sprouting seeds;

Will this river reach the ocean?

If it didn’t, would it be a river?

Will it make deserts flower?

Will it make mountains cower?

Why not let it be what it will be?

Why not a symphony of serendipity?

Why pain for the past?

Why fear of the future?

Why seek to find something?

Why not find whatever was found?

Why is any path, the wrong path?

Because it should be somewhere, elsewhere?

What if it didn’t go all the way?

Because of this dead end?

Either ram it with all there is,

Or turn back and find another way.

Brave enough to choose either!

What flowed in isn't what's flowing out!

That’s all the meaning there is.

The change within, the destination!

Every mistake made, was to be.

Every path trod on, was to be.

Flowing words flood the soul!

[Experiences] On Tales and Trails

Often, travellers to a city know much more about it than the people who live there. And often, a city where one lives and works becomes just a place one wants to escape from. Should familiarity breed only contempt? Can it not evoke a sense of appreciation, a curiosity to know the unknown amidst the well known? Driven by this reflection, decided to take a tour with Storytrails. Storytrails is a Chennai-based company that conducts walking tours in different parts of the city on different themes, creating an experience, wherein they stitch the sights of the present with the stories from the past.

The trail I chose to walk on was the Bazaar trail, through a bustling market area in George Town. The walk started at a church facing the Madras High Court where the storyteller for the day, Lakshmi, opened the session by sketching a story of the British East India Company’s foray into Madras. Stories of George Town and Black Town came alive with her words, and looking again, I could see a street full of traders from all over the country lining their wares, for here was a ready buyer in the East India Company with a factory that made ‘nothing’!

From there, we took a short walk to a quiet church, the Armenian church, linking the faraway landlocked country of Armenia in West Asia to Chennai’s pre-British past. A marker for Chennai being a cradle of trade for the world! Then, she regaled me with the stories of British Traders like Parry, Binny and Arbuthnot and their exploits in work and personal life. With the past running in the background, we then walked, nay bumped, into today! Narrow streets piled with vegetables, spices and assorted things; A truck trying to venture into a road that we would think twice to walk into; Every couple of minutes, someone saying ‘Nagarunga(Step aside)’ and wanting your space; Hangover drenched faces of sellers, loudly bargaining with customers and sounds of Chennai’s unique dialect ringing in the air!

Walking with Lakshmi, I learnt unknown facets of everyday things in a local household: Of how an unattractive ridge gourd becomes a beautifying, biodegradable loofah; how the banyan leaf is an offshoot of the caste system; Of English women carrying snuff in bejeweled boxes supposedly to clear their sinuses; Of chilies and lemons wading away the bringer of doom, Allakshmi and many more such intricacies, in a sensory albeit sneeze-filled experience.

Before it was time to say bye, I wanted to know the story behind my storyteller’s storytelling. She told me how this path emerged with her training in Montessori education and its emphasis on storytelling. When she heard of this venture, she wanted to reinvent her passion of storytelling and joined this team. Showing how committed she is,  she talks about doing tours on all seven days of the week and only trying not to do more than one on a Sunday! When I asked her if it wasn’t boring to tell the same story, she said ‘Surprisingly no. I’ve even stopped analyzing why.’ She says she tries to vary the fare and tell a funny line with a different intonation or in a different order. She talked about how much she learns from the people she meets, mentioning the one time she received an instant crash course on the fine art of slowing down!  All this made me reflect that a story is not just about people or incidents in the past or imaginary present but has as much to say about the person telling it and the person listening to it. So, here’s a job for someone with a penchant to meet and greet the world with stories of one’s city!

[Movies] Star Wars - (7) The Force awakens 2015

The Force has awakened! No one back in 1983 knew it would. Likewise, the parents of the majority of the audience I saw the movie with, hadn’t decided to have them back then too. So, here’s a movie and an audience celebrating the joy of being born! If a movie franchise could capture the imagination of such an audience, more than three decades after its inception, then one should acknowledge the power of its force. And, if I told you that this crowd raised the roof even as ‘Lucasfilm’ appeared on screen, then you can imagine the rest!

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SPOILER ALERT - Do come back after you have experienced the movie

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In the way, Rey, a lonely girl on a desert planet, moves, thinks and relates, you are constantly reminded of someone you’ve seen before. As she scavenges for machines and machine parts to make a living; In the way her life changes with the arrival of a droid; In her sense of goodness in refusing to give up the droid no matter how desperate she is; In her sense of duty in wanting to go back to Jakku, her planet, although it’s a dreary and unliveable place. Yes, it’s young Luke Skywalker, in aptitudes, attitudes and even life circumstances, as the world first saw him, a long time ago, in a faraway galaxy, in 1977.

What ho to see Han Solo again! Not the handsome one we remember. A haggard-looking Solo, now in the shoes of a father pining for his prodigal son. One of the defining dynamics of Star Wars, its focus on father-son relationships, is at play in this one too. In the first trilogy, a son tries to save his father from the dark side and now, it’s the father's turn to do the same for his son. Why is it that it’s the father who dies, no matter what? 

One sees the ‘continues…’ in bold, underlined and italicized fonts even in the backgrounds and characters. Here’s an intergalactic pub, up-cycled for modern purposes, reminding us of the one we met Han Solo for the first time. An obese Jabba-like creature sits with an attractive female in its armpit, watching the proceedings. And most of all, there’s Maz, who looks like she’s related to the legendary Yoda. His uber-cool granddaughter, why not? 

The thing I love about this sequel is the power it gives to a girl. In the very first Star Wars, there was a ladylike Leia, a leader to her troops. In spite of her bravado, you could sense her lack of confidence as she pulled the trigger on her machine gun. Now, in this latest sequel, there is redemption. Here we find Rey, a girl living on her own and quite capable of taking care of herself. She does not want to be saved or held by the hand by any man, no, thank you! She’s capable of saving herself and what’s more, she can even resist the power of an errant Jedi, with no training whatsoever! In my eyes, a tribute to every modern woman, living life on her own terms.

The movie begins with an image of a girl sitting huddled up in an ocean of sand, looking expectantly at the sky. It ends with the girl walking up an island in the middle of an ocean from her dreams, and looking into the eyes of the person whom she has been searching for, her whole life. This poignant moment holds in its grasp, questions about their past which is the hope for the future of Star Wars. And we can say, the Force has captured the imagination of yet another generation!