Sunday, December 15, 2013


This year it feels as though I have finally overcome the reluctance my body felt all these years  to go through the  dismally cold and lonely days of winter.  A sort of  definace  flows through the veins of my body, refusing to surrender to the impulse of  the genes in me bred through generations of  a much warmer people, terrain and climate.  Warm, even sultry, seasons and rains, and cyclones.  They live in the very tides of my body.

And now it was stuck in freezing bitter winds, dragging its feet through piles of heavy, melting snow and cursing every moment of this weather. So much that I refused to celebrate Diwali one November.  This is no place to worship Mahalakshmi,  Her place would be warm, filled with golden fields of sunshine and happiness and love. This?! Forsaken by Gods,  Hell would be this cold.  Where minds and hearts were frozen shut to another human being.  Where artificiality ruled and superficiality took over people's identity so much that they do not even remember what  honest warmth is.

Anyway, so this year  I finally feel as though I have climbed over that hill to reclaim myself for all winters to come. But very humbly I whisper to any unseen Gods,  I  would  be oh so happy and content if I could go back to my own piece of earth.   

Friday, December 13, 2013

If we stopped denying our weaknesses we could make them our strengths.

If I stopped denying your memory of our meeting, the intangible yet immense something that filled  the space passed between us, I could give you the strength of that magic.    

Monday, September 09, 2013

When you start seeing the patterns of thought and culture, it is all too apparent that everything is the same, just 'packaged' inspiringly differently one more time to appeal to a jaded and dulled human awareness.

Every few years someone else comes along, puts a spin on the half empty glass and sells a few books - but psychologically it all boils down to the same. Do wake up. 
Well no, I can't just force myself to spiel reams of words.  It has to force itself out of me, just like the way a river won't be dammed.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

It's bullshit to say we grow from our mistakes. We don't just learn from mistakes. We learn when we make up for them, and grow when we overcome our weakness.  Lots of people just end up living their lives in loops. 

Monday, August 05, 2013

Without putting you on the defensive, I have to make you aware of how self indulgent you are.  And without judgment, because - after all it is you who are hurting. Unnecessarily. Avoidably.

Me - I am just a willo'thewisp.

Therefore you say I don't love you. Yes, not in the way you would define love. But I do love you if you really think about it. Because no one else will bother to grasp your within and look ahead for you.  And be willing to hold your hand  gently but firmly, atleast part of the way.  Till you've found your way.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

On the majestic peaks of Silence
beats the heart of  the Limitless
The rock star is back from his tour. After the usual banter about after parties and girls, and browsing through books to send to my kindle, he demands to know my progress. I tell him my excuses, confirming how lame I am. He suggests weed. Isn't it addictive, I protest. Won't the body get used to it, build tolerance? It isn't coke, he says. Just put some in a pot and inhale it. It will relax you, free your mind a bit.  I tell him to ship it to me, amongst visions of a smoked up house. Add that to my list, child services. He tells me to go hang with his friend in the city who gets it delivered to her office. She will take of me, he promises. And make sure I stay safe. errr...
lol. I have 88 drafts that I have not published.  And here it seemed as though I had forgotten to write.
Sometimes I chafe at this me. Every moment is a choice. Every thought, every emotion, direction - all choices. The choosing to remember, choosing to let go, or wipe your memory. To love, to bear, hold and  cherish. To care deeply. Patience, acting wisely, being in balance.  Compassion, arrogance, dismissal.   Sometimes you begin to wonder is this the real me? Would I not feel a spirit, if perhaps not the same spirit otherwise as well? But this chafing too does not last long. After all, isn't that a choice too.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

It is not too surprising that one is the victim of  unpleasant aggression always when one is emotionally vulnerable. When something has already weakened you  enough that you are preoccupied in understanding and handling it, and then along comes a situation where under normal strength you have the presence and awareness to nip it in the bud before it can build into a full scale assault.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

Neither Beginning nor End

If everything was finished,
the world would be all wrapped up - back to
As it is, nothing ever terminates,
thngs are left in snippets
to catch up
to another day,
another era.
I dont know why
I had the idea I need to wrap everything up
that very minute
follow everything
to its ultimate end right away.
Now im happy...
letting things be,
somethings will never be complete
they will march on in their own minute pace
to something only approaching
like the limits of calculus
getting there, but never actually climaxing.
And some things are done over and over.
Life is somewhat like that...
you begin
not from the cells in your mother's womb
or in the dirt of earth from those first life cells
but in the dust that were the seeds of  this universe
and you will continue
not in the ashes mixing with dirt
or even in the genes of generations
or the birth of the awareness of the next era
but spread wide over the galaxy
as nothing separates you
from the space and the particles of the universe.

One day at a time...

I found this on the other blog.. and it so definitely should have been on this one... no problem, good to work on it again and polish it:

Am still on the bed, sleepy eyed and warm when he extends one wrist to me , a pair of cuff links held in the other hand. In the act of putting them in, I glance up to catch an unsually tender smile playing on his lips and reflected in his eyes. "I love you, mummy" she says, suddenly holding me tight, her arms squeezing my neck just as I finish brushing her teeth. Her curls escaping her two little braids to frame her face.  He's an alien today, talking like a robot - a particularly unfocused one at that, and at a remark from me which they all find strangely funny, he laughs exactly as I would expect a robot to laugh, staccato... "ha. ha. ha. ha.. haaaaa. " And the exasperation melts away in my own suppressed laughter. And the eldest, God bless her soul, has been ready since six thrity, and has packed her brother's backpack and lined up his shoes and socks as well.

The morning is sprinkled with moments like this, amidst a flurry of activites to prepare them and send them off  in a happy attitude, as best one can, to face their respective days . There is much to be said for September after school starts even though all summer I dread it, dread them going back to school.

After all the kisses and hugs and goodbyes, he runs back from the car, hugs me, face pressed in tight, and says, "mommy thank you for making a special lunch for me."

And I make my mug of coffee and curl up, the small of my back cushioned into the softness of the arm chair, tthe unread book open on my lap, to enjoy a few moments of solitude before I start working, glad today that I dont have to go  to work. The house is huge and empty, but the silence is fuller perhaps because of all that fills it. And as I breathe it in, I am quiet enough to realise how content I am. Complete.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

I've always had the feeling that  I can't direct my life towards an external purpose, that my purpose must come from within.  That the direction of my efforts and success must  mean something in terms of my own life and perception. A growing awareness of human processes, not only of my self but in a general way about the world. Why we do what we do, the way our emotions, reactions, defenses, instincts, conditions work - the mind and chemistry behind our actions and emotions, and relating.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Took an ugly tumble down the stairs on the weekend. Hurt exactly the same spot that I injured last year. Sore and bruised only. Thanks to the one watching over me. And oh yeah. broke my glasses :) So can't read till I get that fixed.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

You enter lives with such charity
You don't realise
They are better off without you

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

I woke up and i thought 'i dont like this writng anymore.' its too indulgent. neither efficient nor simple enough.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

To a friend

It's okay to be sad, as much as it is okay to be happy. It's okay to cry, just as much as it is okay to laugh. It is okay to be ashamed as much as it is okay to be proud. For darkness cannot exist without the light. It is okay to want to die as much as it is okay to want to live. But let these moments pass, as slowly as they will, for they are only moments, significant or insiginificant,  so you may laugh and forgive, live and love. Don't make these moments a choice, a cross to bear for the rest of your life. Let them slip out of your consciousness as they will, and let all that is beautiful, joy-giving in you, and around you reign over your consciousness again. 

Friday, June 17, 2011

One of my luxuries is being alone. I think I can go a long way before I get tired of it.  I don't look for something, pleasure or gratification or company to escape. Or entertainment to occupy my attention. Perhaps its because I am hardly ever alone. I'm liking where I'm at these days. Complete within myself.

This understanding has come a bit late, but nothing ever comes without a walk through thorns. If you have to choose between love and dignity, always choose dignity. Because dignity is loving yourself, and it accords the same to the other as well. And there can't be a greater  expression of  loving.

Sunday, June 05, 2011

French Open 2011


I LOVE today.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011


Its already summer! And hot. The kids are outdoors playing with water guns. And eating popsicles. A cool breeze just blew into the kitchen where I was making dinner, out of nowhere. I turned to look, see if any window or door was open, nothing. And again, as I was stirring the sauce, I felt it on my back and the heaviness lifted.

India was awesome, as usual. But unlike my previous visits when I landed and immediately felt the lift in my spirits, a sense of belonging, it took me three days to melt into the land. It wasn't until the morning after in Delhi that I could unwind enough to feel my heart open again.

The whole month prior to that had been extraordinarily stressful, and I did not realise how much tension I had in me till all of a sudden I just laughed. I was standing with my aunt on the terrace looking down at the street, watching people go for their morning walks, or to the vegetable wallah around the corner and watching them walk back again. The maid brought us tea, and the simple act of standing there with her, with a cup of tea in my hand and nothing to do but just watch the world go by, made me laugh. And India folded me into its lap again.
And I became a child again. 

The good thing about spending time in a place that is not your home town is the number of new people you meet and make friends with, people there have this quality of drawing you into their lives and hearts, and  though you maybe just a wayfarer, that affection is so constant, so inclusive.

I met this lovely girl, in her twenties, who had the kind of presence that charmed everyone. We spent three days together, mostly laughing for no apparent reason, laughing so much that our tummies hurt and it looked as though we were totally drunk. But even the high of alcohol would probably not have compared to the joy of that friendship.

I was only too eager to get back though, I missed the kids and him so. And waiting for my ride outside the desolate terminal, four-thirty in the morning, shivering a little in the cold, it felt so good to be back in a comfortable and familiar place, where I knew how to handle things. 

The kids were still sleeping when I got home, and I ran up the stairs as quietly as I could to stand looking at them, the youngest was sprawled all over the bed, as usual. My son woke up to quickly hug me and say 'yay! you're back' and promptly went back to sleep. I was restless, pacing the house waiting for them all to really wake up. Its sort of sad when all the eldest says is 'its good to have you back.' Now that she's taller than me. 

But it felt wonderful to be back home, find them all safe and healthy and none the worse for my absence. They didn't seem to have missed me all that much.

Saturday, April 02, 2011

Ofcourse a woman has to be a mother to everyone. Its part of being a woman. And its entirely okay to need time alone to recoup energy.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Sweet Joy

She walked in holding my husband's hand and smiled at me with so disarming a confidence in her welcome into our family  that I lost my heart to her. Kneeling on the floor to help her with her boots and jacket, I look into such solemn eyes as I have ever seen in a child. She gazed into mine and smiled, then reached for my hand and held on to it as we walked around the house, her curious eyes lighting on everything, in a not too intrusive way, and pointing out various things that for some reason made her smile.  When the kids came home the previous day from visiting our friends, they were full of stories of this young family from Germany staying with our friends. They had such a good time playing with the little girl that they invited her to spend the next day at our house as her parents toured Manhattan.

And so the day began with us knowing no German, and she no English but absolutely no problem communicating to me exactly what she wanted. She would just come to me and smile, and somehow I knew whether she wanted a snack, needed to know where the bathroom was, was thirsty, or just wanted to sit in my lap. Such a mixture of dignity and willingness to melt into others' affection so rare in a child.

Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Love, not converted,
but first listen,
discover this man,
this woman,
that belong to a civilization
and a different religion.
Love consists not in feeling
that you love, but in wanting to love;
when you want love, you love;
when you want to love above all things,
you love above all things.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The sun is shining again today. After weather that dipped down to -35 and stayed cold for weeks on end, nature gave us a respite from what seemed like a surprsiingly short, if intense winter,  for a couple of weeks and went back to being cold. Not as cold as before though.

I was thinking yesterday, standing at the sink, gazing out the window, about your presence in my life. If it had not happened when it did, where would I have been? Where would we all have been?  Of all the things one could do with one's life, what is more worth while than to have shown someone a path of grace and happiness away from all the rubbish one could get embroiled in.

I was thinking too, of the few remnants I have left with me of your visit. How much they mean to me, how much, albeit tiny, a part of your essence they are.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Coming Home

The last time I saw you was at the airport. All day I had felt my heart fill, with the overflowing fullness of loving you, and the sadness of parting. I searched your eyes, and I hid from them. We looked away, looked back. And reached for each other at the same instance. With everyone else around us, there was only this intense awareness of you.  As I walked away, I felt then the wrench of my heart not wanting to leave your sanctuary.

Your image and your smile that followed me still live in me. In times when I doubt even myself, I look only at this, and the love in  your eyes is unwavering, holding my heart tenderly in its grasp till I am a child again.   I needed to understand - that you could pour your self into something but not every vessel can hold you. I needed to understand that I was already home.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

I love your voice. I love the tiredness I detect in it
end of the day. I love the hints of laughter as you tease me,
before the great shouts that burst out of you.
I love the seriousness and impatience
of it as you explain something to me, or when you are angry.
I love the boyish earnestness of it, as you are, at times.

I love the texture and fibre and the weave of it,
as simple and entire as you.
I love the sound of your breaths,
light yet composed,
that sneak through as you wait for me to speak.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

How free are we when we have the need to belong to something? A group, an ideology, a country? Anything that doesnt let us exercise our will supremely. None of us are ever completely free, but there is a certain degree of freedom that is allowed all of us, no matter how we choose to live our lives. And everything else, whether it is alcoholism or church, is on the same level as long as it is a need to belong.

Monday, October 11, 2010

The luxuries of life are the simplest things, and the time to enjoy them. To make time for the achingly beautiful moments.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

600,000 casualties +

Your mail reached me in Brussels, in the midst of a one year loan of myself to the French University. In the aftermath of the quick punch in the heart, I felt the devastation of Ashay’s death, like the exquisite desolation of his photographs. I sensed that it had invaded your very soul. Perhaps you were seeking an objective to live, reaching out a hand for me to grasp. I wrote back, signing’I remain, always your friend’ but not enough. Nothing could be enough, except to come here and be with you. A fear of inadequacy prevented me. I called you every few weeks, and then every few months, talking about our old friends, and the latest news. You broke down when you told me all that Ashay had gone through, and the knowledge of not having done enough. Your tough aloofness, so he may find the growth to overcome. Your realization, too late, that a victim cannot heal unless his memory of victimization is somehow negated. That he lived and finally succumbed to the agony of life within the walls of isolation built by an inadequacy causelessly thrust on him. In any case, that is the inevitability of life, the final surrender.


The rain has subsided. Dawn spreads over the river,  scattering light amongst the shadows. I leave your dairy on the table. Perhaps someday there will be enough laughter spilling over into this house and its determination to leave its mark of agony in the living world.

click on the title for a link

Friday, September 24, 2010

Happiness is.

I was not quite near the end of my run today, when from across the street, I see this utterly adorable two year old in the parking lot jumping up and down excitedly, waving his arm. I started laughing and consequently had to stop running, there was something just so contagious about his happiness. I walked over to say hello to the little chap, all tousle haired and blue eyed. And the mom smiled at me and pulled a sort of apologetic face. "Oh, it makes me so happy to see him!" I said. He was excited over his friends' car pulling into the lot. Obviously they had a play date at the zoo inside the park today.

Did I just say I am running? Yes! But not quite, its more like a run/ walk. But it does feel glorious to be running again, however little at a time. And its wonderful to be in the park, face lifted to the sun, and the smiles and greetings from the other regulars. They've got to be the happiest bunch ever. And because I'm just so thankful for that, I want to share some goodies.

The music. I'm constantly on the lookout for good workout music. Nowadays, I always start with Rihanna's Umbrella Lush Club remix. Its perfect because the beat is versatile enough to walk/jog/run/workout with. And it's a pleasure to workout to the accompaniment of Rihanna's beautifully strong voice. The other is I mentioned this earlier to a few, I think. Deekron, the DJ puts out these really awesome upbeat mixes quite frequently and regularly. Its free to download and subscribe. My personal favorites are Walker's Delight 1, Fitness Magazine 168 BPM half marathon, and the Jeff Galloway series. Enjoy!

Friday, September 17, 2010

Today I found the perfect Baguette to go with dark chocolate. And a cup of coffee. I did nothing else but take a warm shower, read and sleep. And woke up completely in the moment. Awake, but mmm ... what a delicious state to be in.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

What an awesome final that was! Incredible level of play on both sides. I couldn't help but admire Djokovic's amazing display. But being a die hard Rafa fan, I'm thrilled, ofcourse.

Wednesday, September 08, 2010


At dusk,
 a gentle breeze
 rains from the sky,
rippling the waters, 
and heaven steps down 
to earth.

It is you,
whispering your secrets,
every leaf
and grain of sand
your eyes.

In the grasp of your arms,
I find myself
finer than moonlight
to drown
in the cradle
of your heaven.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

When I finally make the trip, over the slow swelling river, the boatman advises, ‘If you don’t cross back today, you will have to wait a week for the water to subside enough.’ Darkness descends from the weeping skies, into the waters of the river and shrouds everything. On land, I heft my pack and huddle in the rain. The air is filled with the sharpness of your absence. But the washed out earth spreads as it always did, careworn and comforting as though it were a courtyard pounded to shape centuries ago just for our brown-limbed play. Making my way to your house is instinctive, my boots squelching in the muddy rivulets and the undergrowth.  It stands before me, in its compound, and in the wet grayness, it’s the former house I see, the vertical grills on the windows, and the portico with its pillars. The long path through the front yard, with the well in the northeast, the Asoka trees standing tall along the compound walls, up the tiered verandah, to pillared portico and the front door. I stand here, shaded by the roof from the rain. I have come back home.

Saturday, August 07, 2010

To write calmly, precisely, wisely... to write of my characters, and not of myself.

I'm trying, but boy, is this hard to do. And what an arduous journey it is trying to get there!

Monday, July 19, 2010


From biting and cowering in fear to walking up to me, when I sit on the floor, to lay its head against my leg for a long rub along the fragile neck and head, two months IS a long time, especially when counted in the endless hours of fear and the slow gain of trust.

The way it pauses in it's feeding, when we hold the cup up for it, to tilt its head and look into our eyes reminds me of the look in our children's eyes as babies when they would turn their heads to gaze into mine in the midst of nursing, and the tears that I could not stop then from the immensity of that love. Perhaps that is why I feel such affection for this bird.

Yes, I'm talking about our cockatiel. It is beautiful, intelligent, and healthy. It loves head rubs. And bells. Reluctant as I was to raise a bird so unnaturally, I capitulated to the children's desire. Besides, it had to go somewhere. It loves the children playing soft music, talking and singing to it. It was this way that he first felt reassured, their soft singing and reading to him every so often.

And here is a video I found on You Tube for you all:

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

I want to ask everyone who chances on this blog to please read and sign this petiiton, and ask your friends to do as well:

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Without the axe, Farhad could not take his own life, Asad,
For he was lost in the intoxication of traditions and restrictions.

I posted this on my other blog, but I thought I would explain its meaning here.
The background is simple, its the story of Farhad and Shireen. Farhad, broken hearted, takes his life by falling on his axe, I think. But what the poet finds lamentable is the lack of Farhad's freedom from his own conditioning, his perception of how a lover 'ought to respond'. Had his heart been so broken, his life would have ended naturally that instant.

The philosopher is not commenting on Farhad's actions, he is merely using it as an allegory to illustrate our conditioning. We are indeed the masters of our fate and the captains of our destiny if only we could see what it is that makes us believe otherwise. How free are we when we are bound by all that does bind us? The 'rut' that limits us in our awareness and our behaviour as well as our reach.

Life isn't simply about the comforts of material success. The most exquisitely precious thing is within us. That's the richest we are, we can't be any more than that, in spite of the millions we could amass. And what use the millions if we tarnish that which we are?

Goodness isn't about how many we please or impress, is it? It is about being able to live our lives with the highest respect for our selves, knowing that we deserve nothing but the best, being whole and nourished and living to our capacity.

What is making me write all this? Because for some people who I care about, it is still a big leap to understand how wonderful they are, that they are worth nothing short of the best. That things happen, but it is up to us to correct our course away from misery and suffering, away from destruction, towards a happier, wholesome life simply because we deserve it. That anything that hinders this, norms, traditions, society, relations, are mere negative elements to be brushed off.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Some people are, quite literally, blessings in your life. Their simple presence when you are in the down spiral, their energy and love, revives you. If you find someone like that, cherish them completely. Life would be meaningless without them. And I know I am infinitely thankful to have the ones I do in my life.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

You make me smile more than I ever have. Life is beautiful, in spite of all the shattered ideals. And you make me see that constantly. There is a poem I read, by Rumi. It is about being so open that you don't need a door or a window for the other to enter. That is how this love for you is.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Kitchen Garden 2

The bloody rabbits have been having a feast while we sleep. All growth on some of the plants, notably the bulbs and the lettuce, has been nibbled down to the ground. Grrrr...

In other news, I fell and injured my back quite badly. I probably will never be able to run again. Therefore, can't chase the bunnies off. he he.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Kitchen Garden

Tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, cilantro and mint were planted yesterday. Methi and spinach are already sprouting. Parsley survived through the winter. I hope the lavendar and morning glory take root.

Monday, May 03, 2010

The day unwinds gently
sunlight spread like butter
into the afternoon.

Faces, as beloved as the moon;
Laughter, flowers, hugs
love in the details ...

I am unbound
buoyed by the gentle love
of my many sisters

laughing, sharing
- a river of grace.

the love of the Universe
enters my soul
straight-pathed as an arrow;
to be any other way would be
to distort the self.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

Monday, November 30, 2009

In you,
majesty is given a countenance.
And love -uncharted, immeasurable- is hewn.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Just because you knew me as such, I cannot linger, refusing what draws me onward. Already some of me is extinguished, something better being born. And to tarry would be to be a sparrow that cannot fly, to be trapped in a point of time, holding onto things that pass out of sight in the flow of time. Joy in us ever seeks the eternal. I will meet you there.

PS: My regular posting on this blog comes to an end. I will keep visiting you all. I'm thinking to start a fiction blog. If interested, please email me for an invite.