The Road Less Travelled

I was tagged in an old picture today and that caused a barrage of memories to catch up with me. Memories that I thought I had buried a long time ago. The picture stared back at me and all I could see were the faces of friends that I may have drifted away from but never truly forgotten.

I remember posing for the photograph and feeling very conscious about the fact I was the only girl there. Not that it bothered me at all on any other occasion. I remember trudging down that road after a long day at school, just willing for this harrowing period of my life to get over with. I remember the friends who I walked down that road with..the ones who somehow made life seem not so dreary. I remember running down that road because we were late for class, stuffing biscuits down our throats in the process. Collapsing on the seat once we got there and being too tired to concentrate. Me being at my lowest weight ever (40kg) and the jokes my friends used to crack to try and persuade me to gain weight (not that I needed any convincing). Gobi manchurian treats before we made our way back home. The chats on the roadside because no one wanted to go back home and hit the books again. Bone clashing with K9 and thereby bugging the hell out of everyone else present. Fighting over the last drop of that communal pepsi bottle.

The road may be plain, just like any other road that you may have seen. But for the people who share these memories, it was the silver lining of the dark times we were in. All of us struggling to find a foothold. It played an integral part in making me the person I am today. To the road, and everyone who was there. Thank you.

Summer of '69

It's amazing how human beings can be such creatures of habit. And as much as I hate to admit it, I am no exception.

My grandparents' home in Bangalore has always been my second home. I write this not to imply that anything has changed in this regard but because I'm totally overwhelmed at how different a place is even when one person is not around. It's the people that make a 'home'.

My grandparents' old house was called "Shanti Nilayam", which means "abode of peace" and this home meant a lot to all those who passed through it. It was on the outskirts of the city and it was here that I was initiated into the community of tree-climbers & kitchen-counter conversationalists :D My grandparents believed in all of their children and grandchildren being brought up as citizens of the world. They were one hell of a formidable team. The home generated love and togetherness. The home connected us with the rest of the world. The home...I'm beginning to sound like a cracked gramophone record.

The new house is just an extension of the old one. All the things that I said before hold true. But with my grandfather not around to make his physical presence felt, I feel a void. Something is missing. Most conversations have some sort of reference to how Appa would have liked it or what he used to say. Yesterday morning, we were sorting out things in the cupboard and came across a whole bunch of things that belonged to Appa. The Air Force uniform cap, old photos, scrap pieces of paper with his writing on it, notes of encouragement to members of the family..anyone who came across it would get a glimpse into the enthusiasm, determination and vitality of this man, who I am so proud to call my grandfather.

We have so many things to learn from the likes of him. If I'm even half as determined as him during the latter part of my life, I would consider myself very lucky. The motivation and urgency with which he went about his daily routine (even at the age of 94) so that he could live life to the fullest, would most definitely put a majority of us 20 year olds to shame. There are so many memories of him that will remain with me for as long as my memory is intact; a thumbs-up before we embarked on that eventful journey by ambulance from Vellore to Bangalore, that hug I got on the last day I saw him..the last goodbye. Appa's always been my hero and any older male has and will probably always be compared to him. I love you, Appa..I probably didn't tell you that enough during your lifetime but Bangalore just doesn't seem the same without you.

Cleaning Out My Closet

Every year my mom insists that we sort out our belongings and give away things that we don't need anymore or have grown out of. I have a habit of never throwing away gifts. Sometimes this even extends to gift wrapping paper. That might explain why there's a treasure trove of paper and cards piled up at the bottom of my cupboard and it shows no sign of getting any smaller!

A few days ago, I settled down in front of my old cupboard and tried to establish some order in the mess. Even though I might end up keeping everything, it doesn't necessarily mean that I've stored it all properly. I had tossed them into a box at leisure and then I ran out of leisure in the shambles of the usual clean-up mode, so they got caught up in the bale-it-up-and-stuff-it-in-the-box-and-we'll-straighten-it-out-next year syndrome.

I hauled out the box, spread out all the things across the bed, settled down with a glass of lime juice and a puzzled frame of mind. Just to help, I put a CD that had been compiled by an old friend in my portable CD player and cranked up the volume.

Here it all was. Candles and pine boughs, CDs and pictures, cards containing heavy messages about love, joy, peace and goodwill. If that wasn't enough, there were all those handwritten messages of affection from friends and family.

It was as if I was watching my life over the past 22 years like a slide show. Seldom have I felt so bad and so good at the same time. So wonderfully rotten, elegantly sad, melancholic and nostalgic.

What can I say? I guess wonder and awe and joy are always there in the attic of one's mind. It doesn't take a lot to set it off. Yet there is a terrible and wondrous truth working here. That all things live only if something else is cleared out of the path to make way. No death; no life. No exceptions. Things must come and go. People. Years. Ideas. The wheel turns and the old is cleared away as fodder for the new.

I picked up the letters and cards to stack them away; with respect if not enthusiasm. Wondering at what is going and coming. Quietly awed into silence by what I have now come to understand but cannot tell.

You Learn

I've been doing a lot of reading lately during the time when I'm not involved in making life changing decisions about housing, passport work, visa booking etc. To say the least, I've been occupied :P

Here's an excerpt from the book "All I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten" by Robert Fulghum:

"All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:

• Share everything
• Play fair
• Don't hit people
• Put things back where you found them
• Clean up your own mess
• Don't take things that aren't yours
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody
• Wash your hands before you eat
• Flush
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you
• Live a balanced life-learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
• Take a nap every afternoon
• When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
• Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why. But we are all like that.
• Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup- they all die. So do we.
• And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK. "

I just had to share this with all of the 3 people who check my blog from time to time. It's amazing when you think about it. Take any one of those thoughts, convert it into 'adult-talk', apply it to any situation (be it in your family, your work, your government) and it'll probably hold true. Think of what a better world it would be if we all had a basic policy to put things back where we found them and cleaned up our own messes. There would be no Hitler, no Iraq war, no insurgency by totally psychotic terrorists..you name it.

And I think it all comes down to this - now matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

Home

I'm home :D

The last few days have been spent wondering how I was feeling so weird about leaving Delhi and not as excited as I thought I would be about the thought of going home after 5 months. That all changed the moment I got on the flight heading to Mangalore from Mumbai. The mumbling in the background wasn't the usual Hindi that I had learned to tune out to. It was a language I actually associate with 'home' - Kannada.

The sudden feeling of elation that I had was so overwhelming that I rushed to my seat before I made a total fool out of myself.

That's when it struck me. I was almost home. And it felt amazing :)