How are you feeling?

I feel assaulted

2010-02-19T18:46:00.001-08:00

I am not a published eminent author,so I want to be humble about my writing and be appreciative of every one.

And anyway, everyone has a right to write as they like.

But I want to ask the readers, is content more important than style?

I don't like the TV news readers who speaks Hindi with a Bihari accent. It distracts me from what he is saying.

I am able to get the sense of the short news pieces, however they are delivered. They need to appreciate that Twitter is their medium.

An analytical piece delivered badly just goes over my head.

Also, I have a problem which is more about the principle.

I believe too that people must have equal opportunity, but the arrogance of someone who refuses to learn, because it takes too long is irritating- and reminds me of the offspring of eminent people.

I see little children who have taken music lessons for three months, thrice a week, performing on stage - ostensibly to encourage them to learn.

IT PISSES ME OFF!!

The stage performance is the carrot for perfecting the art. If your child is not keen to learn, why must I listen to him croak in the name of music?

Premature babies must be incubated.

Handicapped persons must have equal opportunity, but there has to be a proportionate responsibility too. Would it be okay to have a blind person take a walk in the traffic?

I think when it is someone you love,it is difficult to be reasonable about these decisions.

And when you love yourself so much, it is difficult to have any sense of what others feel.

At this point I feel overwhelming self pity. No one loves me. I don't think I love myself too much.

People can be honest with me, and they are. It's awful to be there.

But I get this sense that I must be considerate. Because?

Yes, so you scratch my back and I scratch yours- and let quality be damned.

Unconditional love!!

Here we come, to mutilate that wonderful phrase, use it abuse it.

There is no plot here

2010-02-13T14:31:00.001-08:00

Papa did not frighten me as a child, a very small child.

And then he stopped frightening me from when I was as high as I would get- which was about when I was a teenager.

I wish those years in between had been different.

The other day he said, "No one ever wanted to know who your father really was." He laughed as he said it, but I think he was very sad.

To me Papa has been the centre of any universe he occupied, but that maybe because my life revolves around him.

The reality is that he did have a rather fearful image which he built with great effort- it might have been easy to ask him questions in a less charged atmosphere.

I wonder why I did not feel afraid like the others.

Once his size stopped frightening me, I saw Papa like any motherless child. I had a mother and he did not. I never heard a story about the thriving relationship between the father and son before my mother's arrival in the family. I don't really remember Babbaji, Papa's father. But I have these impressions about him, which I have decided to call memory.

He came to stay with us for a while before he passed away, and it was a miracle of sorts.I was too small really. Around three years old.

I have concluded that Babbaji was worse off than Papa- as far as expression of love went.In Babbaji's days, fathers were not supposed to declare their interest in their children. To show love, women cooked, and men disciplined whoever they could.

"I love you" was reserved for films.

In the home- visible love was an embarrassment. I don't remember any baby talk around me.

"Poor Papa" was my response to his childhood, so what if everyone called him Raja.

Babbaji may have been a little overwhelmed with grandparent-hood. But I hear he liked my mother. She was respectful and caring. It must have helped to have a bridge between him and the son.

Babbaji could read stories from books, and my favourite story was the Russian tale about the cabbage that wanted to have a bath one morning. But by the time the cabbage was undressed, the sun had set.

I have often wondered what happened to the cabbage then? I mean, since it could not have the bath, did it have to put back the clothes ? Did it return for another attempt?
But anyway,I think it was a good story.

Sometimes one cannot get to the destination on time, and there was no mention of the cabbage being devastated.

Papa says he might tell me his story, and I am thinking of that cabbage. I think he has not made up his mind yet about the bath.

He is tentatively standing there, next to the water, testing the temperature and making up his mind.

I am game. I have enough material to write what I want to anyway. But I think I will tell him that it might be better to keep an eye on what I am doing, and if he helps me then he gets to have his say, plus a veto.

I did promise him I would wait till July 2010- but what the hell, I am allowed to surprise him some time, like now?

I am writing, and all he has to do is live to a happy ending.

I'm frightened now

2010-02-10T19:13:00.000-08:00

Don't go popping off Papa- I haven't had my fill of you!! And you have promised to live in that family home with Amma for a couple of years at least.

This is a difficult time of the year, and I must make a beginning to get over the fear that grips me around this time. A fear of death. I can not make up mind who I am afraid of losing most. But I do know that I would rather be dead first than lose any more.

The urge to take matters into my own hands is so strong, I need to keep them busy till they cannot do anything wrong. Maybe I should just begin to create an infinity, an act that would keep me so occupied I would forget to be afraid. And as Papa and Amma shift into their new home there is every reason to feel hopeful.

Papa has mailed me this morning- and I should do what he says- relax. I know what will be will be. But I wish I could will some things. A spontaneous expression of love to a child is also something to be examined, analysed. And then let go of. I really see no need here.

I must stop seeking life.

Surely that will take away the fear of losing it.

Adrift

2010-02-10T18:27:00.000-08:00

What would “I” be without the others?

As they joined me, I grew. With every departure I was reduced.

There are happy pictures, and there are the images of damage, loss. Reminders of pain, which comes back with an intensity that does not reduce with time. I could try and forget them, throw them away as it were. But the thing is that were I to remove every potential reminder of pain, I would have to be gone too.

For was I not the sharpest knife in my guts?

And I am not ready to begone. Not yet. Not until I know.

What was it that made me twist that knife so? What makes me do it periodically, even now? Some genetic trait, or my own choices? Can I stop? Or is there a pattern that I must accept as the blueprint of my life? Which was written for me, irrevocably as it were?

Although I have been more fortunate than many I know, I have done wonderful things; and yet my mind often seems to get clogged with the rotten-ness of ordinary life.

With the effort required for bare survival, I cannot say that life is easy. But there is a sense of victory in having survived the day. In going to bed safe.

Winning has been an important part of my life- almost an intrinsic one. And to win, it is important to get things right. Mistakes add to work. They are a drain on the limited resources.

But knowing right from wrong is not easy.

I consciously choose to live. Every day.

Not because life is worth it. But death is an unknown.

And what do I have to hold as mine, but the exhilaration - of the here and now. I don't trust anyone except myself to take care of me, because I am not sure I can take care of anyone.

Forgive them I suppose!!

2010-02-06T04:34:00.000-08:00

The view under my microscope is beautiful only as long as I do not know what I have kept there.

How do I put that teaspoon of curd into my mouth now? I know it is life giving. I need it. I suppose I must. But hell! It crawls with live ugly creatures which make me want to throw up.

I know that the hair in that comb was part of my head a moment back- but I cannot accept it on my pillow any more. For that matter that poop in the commode was also in my body.

What is revulsion? A state of mind.

And what is acceptance? A matter of the heart. And yet, people advise me to not let my heart rule.

They really do not know what they say and do!!!

Women are under my microscope for now.

have I come full circle too?

2010-02-04T19:08:00.000-08:00

प्रिय सुमति

क्षोभ अधिक है, लेकिन दुख जनित है।

बहुत दिनो तक दबा कर रखने ले लिये मजबूर किया तुमने इसीलिये तुमसे बात कम होती जाती है।

मेरी हर बात को तुमने तोड़ मरोड़ कर रख दिया है- हमारी मित्रता कितने दिन ऐसे चलेगी? तुम तो निभा ले जाओगी। लेकिन मैं किसी फूटी बॉटल पर हेमा मालिनी स्टाइल में नाचने के लिये तैयार नहीं- कम कम से कम तुम्हारे मन में बैठे imaginary गब्बर के लिये तो कतई नहीं।

किस लिये इतनी कुरबानियां दे रही हो थोड़ा सोच लो- फलाने जी ने बुरा बोला, तुमने निर्णय लिया कि कभी नहीं बात करोगी।

यार तुम्हारी ससुराल का कुत्ता भी माननीय है, पर यह सारे संसार को अपना घर इस तरह मत बनाओ. सीमा रेखा यूं न हो कि अपने घर का कूड़ा दूसरे के दरवाजे के सामने फेंक दिया और दरवाजा बन्द कर के बैठ गये।

थोड़ा विवेक तुम ही रख लो.

जो अपनी समस्याओं से थके चटे हैं वे दूसरों के लिये क्या कर सकते हैं- वही अादमी पहले पहल कितना भद्र व्यवहार करता था। मेहनती भी था। अब परेशान हो गया है- तो उसकी मदद करो। उसकी जिम्मेदारी किसे दे दी जाये यह सोचने की कोशिश करो।

कोई अागे अाकर बोझ बाँटने वाले हैं नहीं।शायद हमें भी थोड़ा हाथ झाड़ कर खड़े हो जाना चाहिये। मेरे कठोर बोलने पर गालियाँ पड़ती थीं- घर में भी और बाहर भी- इस बार तो सब ठीक चलता गया- तालियां बजी ना? तो तैयारी तो है ना? साबित तो कर दिया!!

मेरी तैयारी है, और मुझे समझने की दूसरों में भी है या उन्हें बनानी होगी।

जो मुझे मिला है जब वह चुक जायेगा तो ही नया कुछ अच्छा होगा। तब तक बीच बीच में गड़बड़ होगी ही। पूर्व जन्म के पाप तो सबके होते हैं यार- मैं बुरा बोलती हूँ तो जो सुनते हैं उनका भी तो कोई प्रारब्ध है? क्यों किसीको मेरी गाली भी मीठी लगती है, और किसीको प्रेम पाश फाँसी का फन्दा? वे भी तो अात्म विवेचन करें।

लेकिन तुम्हारा क्या करें सुमति?

तुम तो भजन में नहीं अातीं कि लोग गाते अच्छा नहीं और मुझे ठीक ढंग से बोलना नहीं अाता इसलिये चुप रहने को कहती हो।
सुमति, तुम्हारा तरीका अच्छा तो है, पर दुनिया अागे बढ़ गई। कम से कम मैं तो बढ़ ही गई- तुम्हारा ही योगदान है। अब तो कबिरा खड़ा बाजार में- जहाँ देखती हूँ बाजार ही तो है- बच्चों को वन्दे मातरम गाने के लिये चाकलेट का प्रलोभन , समन्विता क्लब में अाओ या नहीं ५०/- देने का सुझाव।

मेरा हिसाब थोड़ा अलग है, मैं तो अारती में भी गा कर सोचती हूँ कि मैने अारती के पैसे नहीं दिये तो भगवान समझता है कि मेरा भाव सेवा का है।

फिर भगवान की भी तो कोई जिम्मेदारी है मेरे प्रति कि नहीं? गलत कहती हूँ तो बोलने से रोकता क्यों नहीं?

जिसे अपनी भावना पर विश्वास नहीं, वह चुप रह सकता है- मेरे लिये यह संभव नहीं।

तुम ठीक नहीं कर रहीं - अब तुम्हें भी नहीं बक्शूंगी। :)

अकेले में तुमने मेरा साथ इतना नहीं दिया कि मैं तु्म्हारे सहारे चल सकूँ- अौर अब तुम्हें दोष नहीं देती- जितने साथ की मुझे अावश्यकता है भगवान देता है।

अति हो चली.

सही गलत तो अब सब के सामने तय होगा।

हम तो सड़क पर ही सुरक्षित हैं - कम से कम वहाँ ससुरालिया ढोंग बाजी नहीं होती और गौरा का पीहर नहीं होता- जितना कमाई करेंगे उतना खायेंगे- बाकी भीख है।

मरोगी तो तुम भी हम भी। हमें विश्वास नहीं कि इस सोसायटी में कोई हमारे लिये कुछ करेगा। देखो, तुमने फोन करके अमेरिका में वन्दना की सास की बाबत खबर की- लेकिन समन्विता क्लब में उनके लिये मौन तभी रखा गया जब महीनों बाद मैं अाई.

खुद ही सब कुछ नहीं कर सकता कोई भी। क्लब की मीटिंग तो हुई थीं , जब श्रीमती ढींगरा को श्रद्धांजली नहीं दी गई तो किसकी जिम्मेदारी थी? तुमने उसे चेताया? उसने माफी क्यों नहीं मांगी? सार्वजनिक रूप से? value education में ये जिम्मेदारी नहीं होती क्या?

अगर तुम्हारी अहिंसा से कोई समझ नहीं रहा तो कुछ तो अात्म विवेचन तुम्हें भी करना होगा। गान्धी को भी सतत प्रयत्न करना होता था- तुम तो रोटी पानी में ही लगी रहती हो। लेकिन तुम करो भी क्या। मजबूरी है तुम्हारी। मोरारी बापू को सुनने का काम बहुएं करती हों तो सास को रोटी में लगना ही होता है।

लगे रहो मुन्ना भाई कहती हो!! तुम बहुत चूक रही हो सुमति।

अाशा है कि मुझे गलत साबित करोगी।

सस्नेह

स्मिता

On republic day - from a poet after my own heart!!

2010-01-24T18:50:00.000-08:00

REAL GLIMPSE OF AN IMAGINARY BASTAR- by Nidheesh Tyagi

Each day the naxal and the cop wake up alive next to their guns in a rainy Bastar morning find the jungles shrinking the tribal of their extinct as the state clears forests through contractors of development and greed of profiteers..

Forests will thin so much that the naxal and the cop will kill each other with Kalashnikovs and landmines

Geography teachers will lie in their classes about Bastar.
Bastar would see development.
Bastar would be main stream.

After smell of gunfire, burnt flesh, clotted blood are wiped, there would be no evident scenes of crime for witnesses.

No one will sing and dance for the naxal and the jawaan on the live Doordarshan telecast of Republic Day Celebrations, showing a real glimpse of imaginary Bastar at India Gate

Inspired by you- 1/1/2010

2009-12-31T17:06:00.000-08:00

My dear Sairam,

I wonder if you had a chance to listen to Himanshu ji's talk on the Tehalka Platform for which I posted links on face book and on the blog.

What I understand is that something needs to be done about the situation - not only for tribals but for the poor and dispossessed people. Not only because we want to help or we feel compassion but because all the commentary we hear is showing that the violence is spilling all over the place, and we cannot afford to be thus inundated- it is not safe.

When the majority of people feel hopeless they have no idea of what they can have, then how can you talk?

eg if the tribal just wants to be left alone, and as that means leaving his land and environment alone too, we have to ensure he has a change of mind or heart in our favour.

Is education going to achieve this?

I know what my education was intended for. I expected to be schooled in an English Medium school, and do Engineering so I could get a good job, beat the boys, be equal to the men, earn money, and be independent.

What is the aspiration of the tribal?

If he wants development and success now, like the rest of the material world does, it is unlikely to come to him from education.It can only be looted.

Education cannot really come to him at speed or with the effort he is capable of putting.

I never wanted to go to school or college. My parents coaxed, cajoled, lured, and threatened me to go.

I do not know anyone who wants to do anything if they can have what they want without doing it.

Today, education is required for everyone- but it is not going to deliver aspirations for the tribal in the the way it does for my child. In a competitive world education is an essential, but it is not enough is what I observe.

I mean look at the difference within my lifetime. In my father's times, engineering was great education. In my times it was a good idea, and now it is just a basic degree.

What else can be done is the question. There have to be ways of earning money without education or with some quick education at best. Or the rich have to spend a part of their money to keep the poor sedated, entertained, busy or just very hungry.

You have said that Himanshu ji's work is inspirational and commendable. That is not very clear to me. What are you inspired to do?

Are you saying that a fast for purification is a good idea? I want to know if you have ever tried to fast for purification.

For myself, I know I hardly ever feel impure- except when I am angry. And staying hungry only makes me feel weak which takes care of the anger because that needs energy. Maybe that is why the poor do not get too angry. So maybe we should consciously starve everyone who is creating trouble. What do you say?

Now I saw Himanshu ji smiling after 5 days of fasting. He was saying yesterday that he felt fine- and I was like horrified. I thought it was because he had not eaten for 5 days and he was loosing it. But today he is lucid- he says he is not feeling hungry anymore. My conclusion is that he is really really angry, and his smile is an essential facade required in society.

I think I shall never know what hunger is. I have always had food at hand. The idea of starvation is meaningless.

But being deprived is something I can understand. And being deprived of something I love and need very much, to be happy, to be at peace is something I understand quite well.

Off hand I can think of many things which I must have, and not having them drives me violent. I think all of us can make that link and appreciate the level of difficulty, even if we have not actually had an experience.

Satyen, who is with Himanshu ji wanted to know what people who are not there can do. Well to begin with they can give up something which helps them understand deprivation. And they can at least imagine some similar bad things happening to a loved one as are happening to the tribals - what would they do if they were far away.

We can stop saying that we will and do live for our own happiness, that it is okay to be thinking only of oneself and one's physical family, because that is all we can afford.

I appreciate that we cannot always relate with everyone in the world in the same way that we relate with our family. When I hear news of Arjun's sickness I am more moved than I am on hearing about yours.Even a small think like his cold and fever makes me feel restless- though he is 26. You have to be sicker for me to take notice and call you.

But Sairam, I know I ask Arjun after your well being. Mostly I try and keep tab on what is happening to people around me- even those who are not linked to me any more. And with whom I may have no defined relationship ever in the future.

I think it is important to increase my range, because the bad things happening very far away affect my life finally.

I know people whose life is affected by terrorists, but they still insist on not thinking beyond their wife child parents, at the most siblings. If a group of people has become a threat to another group of people, I think all those who hear of it have to do something.

You are already doing it, by participating here. And those who are reading this letter are also doing something. So I am not suggesting a radical change in lifestyle, but just a daily discipline of thinking about others.

If everyone was to think of something they could do to spread the word- well that would be one sureshot good thing to do. The media may be silent or not make enough noise about the poor, but the internet is free for everyone to be a media person on.

Maybe this link can be pasted, maybe you can forward something on the issue of the tribals in Bastar. Or talk about how we are the ruling class- and we must think and talk of those we rule.

On 1/1/2010, and every day after, YOU could do one thing in pursuit of someone else's happiness- if you chose to do so.

I think the education you speak of needs to happen to people who are capable of being educated- and who better than myself- this year?

Cheers
smita

Can we be Kabir please?

2009-12-28T20:04:00.000-08:00

Dear Himanshu ji

Today I am thinking of the film Guide- bachao re- is all I can think of.

I am not going to let this go by without taking a step back to see what is happening. And maybe even laugh a little.As a friend I hope I am able to be responsible and not goad you to over stretch.

At the same time I also hope you are able to be responsible and not imagine yourself as a messiah for anyone. Popular support can sometimes do that to people. And I am sure it is exciting to be called Gandhi. It would freak me out considerably.

I hope you will remember that you are not- Gandhi I mean. And you are not fighting an alien power for independence. You are standing in a war zone, and refusing to move out. Because many people are also stuck there. But you and they were not born with the proverbial Kawach.

I would like to share with you that others here, away from Dantewada are also thinking of you. Being an outsider does give us a perspective that is impossible for you and the others who are there with you physically present in the fast to have.

Of course there is the possibility that I am being very cynical. In which case, just go on and do what you must- but I do think that there is a visible adulation in the voices that are supporting you. A bad idea in that it puts some other people off very badly. For example For me it is almost embarrassing to have someone tell me that you are Gandhi- I mean you may have the potential for that kind of greatness. But I think everyone is potentially that way - there is as much a Durga in me as Gandhi in you, and believing that landed me into considerable trouble.

I think those kind of accolades and comparisons are best offered posthumously. Arjun pointed out to me on my trip to Yamunotri that moksha would happen only when I died.

Your fast is definitely helping people who are on the internet think more about the situation in the region. But to me this is only an indication that people who are outside must and can participate in the lives of people who are remote, and different. It shows me that compassion is felt by people who to me seemed indifferent a few years back. It tells me that you are an excellent catalyst to bring out emotion in people who had difficulty expressing solidarity with a people they really did not understand.

Your fasting has provided everyone an opportunity to gather together, and focus.

I am concerned that you might assume a leadership - which might turn out to be too much when the fast is over. I hope all the people who are participating now will also think of a strategy to continue to participate after the fast is over.

There is no demand that you have made, and so there is no successful conclusion of this process unless the process is defined. What I mean is that unless there is a sharing of future responsibilities and concenrs this issue could just get linked with you personally Himanshu ji.

And I think no one person is capable of being leader. Also many people who are your contemporaries may not be able to be lead the way some others can. In fact an assumed leadership may work towards alienating them.

What then would I consider support, and not detrimental? Perhaps if there were some discussions about the readiness of the tribals themselves. Or the direction that future solidarity can take. And the way the other leaders in their own sphere can contribute.

Of course I might be wrong.So I am posting this on various places- for people to comment. The blog allows anonymous comments as well. Also if anyone thinks this post should be shared with someone they know, please pass on.

I would be happy to have people tell me I am wrong.

Silence does not speak to me. I am just not made that clever. Time teaches me nothing about the future. All my experience has taught me is to go on talking- so I request others to speak up too.

Cheers

Smita

Statutory warning- sharing sorrow

2009-12-22T15:09:00.000-08:00

It is a State of confusion- we all want to do the right things. But it is difficult to choose what is best at this time. When action has been delayed for so long, it is impossible to expect things to be well by virtue of an apology and a positive intent.

Years of neglect will have to be paid for.

But who will pay? And who will pay more than the others?

No one can be sure of that. There will be many surprises- mostly painful ones.

Turbulence is on. Seat-belts can be fastened- but who knows who survived until he is out of the eye of the storm.

And this one in Chhattisgarh is big, brutal and definitely not brief.

Those who have more stand to loose more.

Himanshu ji is better off now that his material acquisitions are gone. I did post earlier about the demolition of Vanvasi Chetna Ashram.

It is almost funny in retrospect, to have the same things happen to so many people I know- one would think that a problem that repeats itself might be easy to address with the passing of time, and the repetitive nature of the problem.

But clearly it is difficult to learn. And practically impossible to learn without making the same mistakes- and not many people learn even then.

Himanshu ji is one of the more eminent of the many people I know who are trying to do something in an area where not much has been done.

Sometimes people in his situation want to protest.

I find that worrying. It is a head banging exercise and in my experience it can only result in damage to the head, if there is a wall that one is hitting against.

The other frightening phrase is for a War on Terror. When the powerful are the more terrorized, I think they declare wars. To me it looks like a seasonal sale for arms and ammunition.

For those who are keen to know more, there are some photo essays that are not for people who want to pursue only happiness.- http://www.lightstalkers.org/galleries/slideshow/20348.

Jao Wahan na jaane kahaan, Lao Wah na jaane kya.

2009-12-22T01:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Himanshu ji,

I am quite relieved - having spoken to you it is great to know that you too do not have any expectations of any demands being met by the powers that be.

Naxals or the Government.

I mean they are right now quite busy fighting each other, and you can only be collateral damage.I thought you were going to be rather easily available meat for the vultures- any kind of self destruct would be just making it easy on them.

So I am happy you are only going to fast for self purification and you have no demands of anyone.No point asking when the other has nothing to offer you.

Bravo!

I feel very sorry for the media though. Imagine, someone plans a story around Himanshu ji's hunger strike- it would have been such fun if it was a fast unto death.

Now, what are they going to write about? I suggest they use this title from Russian Fairy Tales. Ivan in his quest for Vasileesa is given a task - Jao Wahan na jaane kahaan, Lao Wah na jaane kya. ( Go there, no one knows where, Bring that no one knows What)

I remember Ivan used to set off with his three caps of iron copper and brass ( or some strong material available at that time!), and three sets of shoes and a ball of yarn. He would let the ball open up, and show him the way. And he would walk and walk as the yarn opened up, until his caps and his shoes were worn down.

I don't know what if anything you will find at the end of it all, but I do know the journey shall be interesting.

I think I am with you on this one!!
Cheers
Smita

Sorry if I rattled you!

2009-12-09T17:21:00.000-08:00

I was in considerable difficulty- leaving Arjun after six months was bad bad bad! I have not been with him for this long, anytime after he left for college. I missed him- sure. I just did not know how much.

In fact I cannot understand how this business of "letting go" and "spaces" can be this highly recommended.I like my friends and family to be close to me- and that is that. Separation and distance is a compromise I make for money- and I acknowledge that that is an important part of being alive.

But that is all it is- a part of being alive.

Once I have enough to survive on, I'd rather compromise on the quality of material life than go on this spiritual starvation that even my own family has been recommending as a "sensible and balanced" approach.

Face book works so well for me, because I feel close mentally to people who are far away- and sometimes who I have not even met physically.

I am because you are.

Thanks for your mails- the ones you wrote to me discreetly. Love you for that too.

I am better now. The inevitability of the visa expiring in six months is the only one that makes this possible. The hopelessness of the situation helped me deal with it with composure. Tomorrow I shall probably agonize over it again- because I miss Arjun!

But that is the way I feel - differently about the same thing.

Of course it's emotional black mail

2009-11-22T14:12:00.000-08:00

Truth at all costs, peace if possible- I think Martin Luther said that well. Because peace must follow truth.

I plead guilty to attempted suicide. I did not quite appreciate that as an Indian citizen I am legally bound to hope, and not give up ever. Wiki says the sentence for an attempt at suicide is only one year.

That barrel is on my temple again. The safety catch is off. Having put the gun to my temple, I am a criminal. I shall be tried.

Do you say I am holding it to your head? Why then it might have been easier to say you love me.

Too late to do that now.This gun is here to stay.

I am sorry too.

power hungry

2009-11-17T12:05:00.000-08:00

श्रीनिकेत अंकल कहते हैं:

शेर वो जो जंगल का राजा
उसकी छलाँग अहा ! पूरे १८ हाथ.
शेर की कमर में उसकी शक्ति .
कमर के जोर पर शेर इतनी ऊंची छलांग मारे.

गाँव वाले शेर का हांका लगायें . तो उसकी कमर पर वार कर कमर तोड़ दें.

राजा वो जो २४ हाथ की मचान बनवाये.
शेर को पकडे, उसे साधे और अपने सिंघासन की शोभा बढवाए.

शेर की कमर पर वार किया और शेर बच गया तो उसके पास राजा को खा लेने के आलावा और चारा क्या है .

घायल है तो शेर जंगल भाग नहीं सकता . छलाँग लगा नहीं सकता कि कमर टूट गयी है.

मचान के ठीक नीचे बैठ कर कमर ठीक होने का इंतज़ार करता है.
थोडी आवाजें भी करता है. डरता है की राजा नीचे आया तो कहीं मार न डाले.

जब कमर ठीक हो जाएगी शायद शेर वापस जंगल को भाग जायेगा.

श्रीनिकेत अंकल कहते हैं की राजा वो है जो शेर को पकड़ ले, साधे और उस से अपने सिंघासन की शोभा बढ़ाये.

लेकिन शिकार की बात सुनकर ही वितृष्णा होती है .

राज्य की बात सुनकर भी .

राजा बनकर शेर को रोज खाना खिलाना होगा
शेर बनकर राजा के कहे अनुसार चलना होगा.

राज्य या भोजन के लिए इतना कुछ?

भूख ही न लगती तो शायद यह राज काज न होता.

हे भगवान

Clearly nicotine is still calling me.

2009-11-13T08:56:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed Rama Dey's post on cockroaches. It is at
http://open.salon.com/blog/traveller1/2009/11/12/cockroaches_use_piss_to_survive

I was relieved more than anything else. I mean no one thinks of the cockroach like he is any of God's creatures.

From what I understood, it is like me, or any friend or family member- I mean seriously it is just a scavenger survivor in one- and I could admire that.

Now that I have not smoked from 7/11, I am missing the morning cigarette.

So I want to know if there is any write up which says tobacco is also like any other herb. I am looking for an argument to smoke. Rama di? Mohna cannot be counted on for this one- maybe Jes?

If it is really bad and the cockroach is just a survivor that feeds on piss, and if tobacco is really bad for humans ( provided there is no scientific counterargument presented by Jes or Rama why are we not directing all piss to around tobacco fields and let's see if the cockroach shifts there.

Publicising this cohabitation could combat the tobacco consumption?

Would people smoke if they knew the piss fed cockroach was being grown just across where this stuff in their mouth came from?

Maybe they still would- there is no accounting for tastes. I would not mind that at this moment- I can say that.

And anyway, what does the cockroach do which is bad for humans?

If it eats away stuff, then maybe we should not have too much stuff hanging around? If we give it all away, we could do with smaller spaces, and anyway most of the stuff in my home has not been used for years.

I am here for six months, and I am not longing for any of what I left back home.

Why not piss in a place that that the piss is not available for them? Like on the earth? It would be better to take that lota and walk to a distant enough place. Of course in the cities that could mean a long walk. So maybe we'd then not build concetrated?

I can see I am not going anywhere really. So let me stop.

I have quit smoking because Arjun has. That's it.

Mulish- the beast of burden

2009-11-12T07:44:00.000-08:00

I feel kissed by death.
It is that time of the year.
I always wanted to see the fall. And I am glad I am not on the east coast- could not have dealt with it probably.

The need to make final confessions is so strong- maybe I am afraid that if I do not then my Mokhsha might be held up somehow.

I think there is a concept of easing the last journey in Christianity, and when I don't know what that means I blame St Joseph's Convent and the discrimination they practiced against me by depriving me of Catechism.

It is as if some favour was done to the Christians. Blame it on secularist upbringing which kept me from learning about all religions- having learnt anyone in school would have helped.

That is a gap which makes me feel able with Kabir only.

I am able to laugh at all of them- and feel happily empty and dead.

But I cannot be dead just because I have been kissed by death.

I must find a way to accept that this time this season and every season I shall be just so.

And I shall not know which is the last year of my life.

I hope this explains why I am feeling crazy. It is not about menopause or being a woman. I think women's craziness has been better documented than Men's. Or rather, there is a difference in the way they have been documented. Men fight wars. Women must be custodians of life and death.

But they stand on the side line, and let the plunder and destruction go on. I am not able to fight wars, or standby.

I think this confusion of roles is what f...s me up rather.

The only consolation I have is that I would not have been if there wasn't one- f..k up.

Hahahaha

Bird Brained.

2009-10-26T19:12:00.000-07:00

My visit draws to a close. I will have to leave at the end of 5 months and 29 days.
They say the flame burns brightest before it is extinguished.

The other day a giant bird just crashed into the glass window in Arjun's office and startled everyone, falling very dead on the ground below. I am trying not to think about it.

Walking is no longer the fun it was.

This fortnight, the leaves on the trees turned pink, orange yellow, copper- all the fall colors, and then dried into brown beautiful shapes. They need to be swept off - every day. They mess up the roads, and while I love the rustling sound my shoes make when I walk on them, it is slippery.

And not all of them dry into pretty shapes anyway- some crumple up really ugly and I wish it was possible to automatically suck them into the huge trash bins in front of every house in Palo Alto, as they fall.

But they are falling harder and faster than anyone can collect them. And it takes hardly a week for a tree to be bare and forlorn right after it turns into a brilliant display of warmth.

The berries on shrubs are red and luscious, but Denny warns me. They are poisonous. She says the birds don't know that. They get drunk on the berries.

At least now we know what the bird crash and fall was about. Depressing. At least nature ought to work right- I mean the birds and the berries have been there forever. The birds ought to know better.

I try to remember that the leaves will turn to useful stuff which will be good for the flowers next spring. And birds also have to die. But I don't have the determination required.

Goodbyes are just so terribly inevitable

Keeping out of my way

2009-09-19T07:07:00.000-07:00

Pupils dilated, vision impaired.

Stimulated way beyond bearing capacity.
Need a break from fun? No.
Will acquire perspective- right here. Right now.

Half a century is significant.

By chance, intent, effort. However it happened.

I could have prevented it.

I think I am feeling committed- to keeping out of my way.

Why don't I get bored?

2009-08-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

कह कह कर भी
कुछ कह नहीं पाई

अाशा दुख का मूल है माना
अाशा से ही जीती हूँ
दुख से ही फिर कहती हूं

अाज मुझे कुछ कहना है
शायद बहुत सा रोना है

Dizziness, Vertigo or Hangover?

2009-07-13T17:39:00.000-07:00

What a lovely Sunday evening the 12th of July was - Hemant Jain sang for his Mancharohan- a ceremony where the guru states his acceptance of the Shishya and permits him to perform on stage henceforth.

I could only remember Hemant as the gentle clever types in Shailu's class in MACT- and definitely did not expect to find him presenting a classical music performance in his sprawling lovely home on a hill, which you reach after driving through some picture post card ranches, with a view of the bay area laid out as a veritable visual feast.

Ashima served a delicious Indian dinner made at home, for fifty people!!

Can't help but wish I knew these guys better in college, they seem so different, that they may actually have been. Shekhar Chitnis chatted for more than an hour with me on the phone- and also pointed out that this was probably more than we spoke in all of the years in college.

Was it just the times that made it so difficult for girls to know boys in engineering colleges in those times? Do the girls still have a hard time?

Anyway, the trip to the US has been singularly rewarding for me- thanks to one or the other person who has put me in touch with a friend, mine or their own.

So I met Shailus' pal Shipra from Cupertino on Friday evening, and we hit it off so well, she picked me up, persuaded me to sleep over and dropped me back too. My son was shocked- he slept at home while Mom was at the friend's.

Mohna put me on to a dynamic couple in Palo Alto- all of ninety years old. Premlata Behn is an active part of Chhajju ka Chaubara, a group of writers who meet on Wedesdays. Just this morning I was trying to call Suresh ji to help him start using Googles transliteration facility to write in Hindi. His phone had been busy all morning; his 87th birthday. We discovered that his daughter in law's father is Papa's friend- in Bhopal.

Any wonder why my head is spinning today?

Swear I haven't had a drop of alcohol- well not in the last 48 hours at least!!!

Home at last

2009-06-24T06:22:00.000-07:00

Arjun has been away from home for years- when he left for college.
I have not lived with him for this long- for 7 years nearly, though we did meet often.

Every time I see him, he is different, and that does not stop surprising me.

When my parents told me to spend some time with Arjun, maybe just cook for him, my immediate response was- "Tish Tosh".

But they still know what I need- better than I do, quite often.

Surprisingly, I am enjoying doing that and the many other things which I have not done for him for a long time and he seems to enjoy it.

The impatience with someone in his way is gone.

You bring forth a tiny being, take care, nurture and then behold the miracle of seeing a boy be a man. He has a home and I like being here. So much that the idea of returning weighs heavy on my heart. But

Home they say, is where the heart is, and I am keeping mine with me henceforth.......

Yes I can! Dump my cramp for good.

2009-06-22T06:32:00.000-07:00

Arjun's car needed a check- so this weekend we decided to take the Caltrain to San Francisco- destination Fishing Wharf and Hippie Hill.

If I had not got the cramp I did, we could have done both places. This is the one that comes from the head somewhere- and travels all over the left lower half. Been with me for a while and today is making me feel awfully..... cramped?

I did so want to check out the Caltrain, which I thought would be like our Delhi Metro and being able to say that makes me feel smug. I mean, there was the time when such trains had to be compared to the Tube, or the Kolkata underground- it's nice to have the apni Delhi Metro yardstick.

I remember my first trip starting from Dilshad Garden to Karol Bagh. The buzz was tremendous. Some of it of course must have been from the fact that Amma had arrived from Bhopal that morning, and was leaving that very night for UK-and I thought it was crazy to go shopping for a Pashmina, from one end of Delhi to another. We thought it might be easier to take the Metro- rather than drive 80 kilometres in the traffic.

The sheer size of that experience was overwhelming-people queuing up to buy tickets, crowding into lifts, up and down the stairs, pushing and pummelling their way into the train, maps and glow-signs, guidelines for changing from one route to another.

I remembered feeling completely rattled and so so inept. There was so MUCH to take in. And this when I consider myself a well travelled woman of the world kind of person, not exactly someone timid, from a sheltered background.

I expected the Caltrain to be a nerve racking experience. After all, I am in America etc. I was grateful to have Arjun with me, on my first trip.

I think the cramp must have got triggered on the way to the train station, and then we missed the one we planned to take.

There was hardly anyone at the station- a couple of passengers walked in at the last moment and the train almost chugged into the station to the sound of a kind of bell !!! Maybe 5 of us got in at California Avenue Station? All rather tame.

One of the passengers from Belmont who was rather friendly I thought, which I later discovered came from his having consumed some considerable amounts of beer, commented on the "crowd". He had was returning home, having attended a court case in which he was witness. It seems one of his drunken friends had opened up another's head with a baseball bat on another weekend.

It took longer by train to San Francisco than it did by road. And they say the traffic is bad.

The bus we took to the wharf from the Caltrain station was slower than the train. I can actually appreciate why someone like Arjun would absolutely need his own car. While the train and the bus are good to look out and see what is happening, they cannot be the way one can commute to appointments and negotiate tight work schedules in a startup.

The bus passed through the business district, and though Arjun clarified that San Francisco buildings are built lower than New York, I felt, even from inside the bus, a little ill, as it were. When Spider man swings from one to another, across the street, they look like toys. And the skyline is just pretty on my TV screen.

But these were really high, and I felt very conscious of my own five feet and two inches. The street between was clean, and really nice close up, but it felt dark and sort of dreary- and very very lonely and crushing to pass through them.

All I could think of were the twin towers crashing down, and the earthquake.

And this when we had started from home on a bright sunlit afternoon under very very blue skies.

I am so glad I have come to USA from the West Coast.

The wharf was great - blue blue skies, blue water, sharp winds, foam crested waves, white boat upon boat, parked very very close, the Sea Lions basking in the sun on wooden planks provided just for their convenience by a benevolent city in a safe area cordoned off to prevent them being disturbed, hoards of well turned out tourists - as there is no beach, people like to look good on the wharf.

Tried my first hot dog - but I think I will stick to fish and chips and clam chowder in future!!! And the baked desserts are my absolute favourites.

I felt the spirit of democracy and openness that I expect in California- in the way the black boys called themselves black and the whites thus. The need for being politically correct that I see in visitors to India from UK was missing.

I cannot imagine the Dalits or minorities in India doing something like this, laughing at themselves and their world.

The comment on society was hanging out there- and people were dealing with it. It did not look easy either, but the bitterness and violence was definitely bearable in the humour.

The performers on the pavements ranged from the lily white girls in their black tights; dancing something that looked very fused to me- fused as in bollywood and reality shows; to the blacks doing the break dance, making digs at the whites,browns and moneyed people.

Everyone looked like they were having a great time-but I could not help but feel some empathy for those who were collecting money for the performances. Although the beggars in India are distressing in the way they look poor, the performers on pavements are not easy to watch either. Just seems like a different platform to me- and a different style of operation. Neither is doing it for pleasure. They are all trying to eke out a livelihood, and the contortions are painful to watch- whether it be in Madai ka mela in Kanker, or Pier 39 in San Francisco.

What about staying power?

2009-06-17T09:01:00.000-07:00

I am disturbed by the "concerned".

The growing participation on social networking platforms points to a growth in expressions of the masses.

But it is rather like pop corn- instantaneous response, some sound. But mostly air.

When I first found Ryze, I was excited- by what I saw as a business building opportunity. But it did not take me long to figure out that I was not going to be able to do much business there. It had greater potential as a match making website-in my opinion. Finding clients was better done elsewhere.

I almost escaped Orkut- the format was kind of "too" anonymous - if that is an acceptable expression in the English Language. But I suppose I should proceed to write with confidence , almost disregard the English language issue- after all in the world of SMS and computers, anything goes. I have put up a profile on Orkut too but all I get is some strange satisfaction in telling people ki maine aapko us nazar se nahin dekha- aur dekhna bhi nahin chahti. Get OFFF!!!! They really ask me nothing more than what do I do- which is anyway part of the profile. And if a person cannot read on the internet, he might as well not exist.

I find Face Book has caught the fancy of people- who I fancy- even those middle aged fuddy duddys who did not check their mail boxes five years back are on it. Even if it is just to keep up with the ..... children.......own or other people's who are posting exciting stuff here.

Disregard the disdain- and there is indeed a respectable mix of people here- the ones I know and the ones I'd like to know. A mix of the light hearted "entertain and be entertained" approach, love of anything beautiful, art, poetry, and then there is the spurt of citizens' groups, causes etc.

I am interested in following the progress of these last. Probably my (extremely) close involvement in such activity on yahoo groups for the last five years is the reason for the interest. Or maybe it is just a voyeuristic pleasure that I get. Some people somewhere trying to do things which I no longer can- and making it.

Whatever.

The intent is honourable- and I am not talking about mine here please.
The time seems ripe for the literate middle class to come together in cyberspace. But attracting attention is only the first step. Preen and there will be response. We know that. Males of all species were designed that way. However much I might like to blame the generations of men before me, I cannot but appreciate that it is only the human male that has ensured that this responsibility is shared by the females. And maybe the gender sensitive should pay attention here and give credit where it's due.

Getting back to the "concerned" people, what is the role of the initiator of a platform promoting civil society participation and social change as a consequence of that increased interaction?

I find it noteworthy, that the treatment of issues is often shallow. Let me commit myself here- it is always shallow.

That is killing me guys.

Imagine a situation- someone shows interest, titillates, shows promise, and then- fizzles out. A failure to rise to the occasion, or a speedy spillover- the result is just- disappointment.

What about staying power? Why is that so .......missing?

And then if I pause and consider other times, what was different then? Is there a time and place that I can look at, with a longing to return?

Of course the idea of the Indian freedom struggle is about all that comes to my mind. There is no other model of an individual concern culminating into a shared achievement. But the thing is, I was not there then. And I am not sure it was all that it is made out to be. I mean I can hardly ignore Gandhi ji's disappointment on 15th of August 1947.

A friend who has been trying to emulate Gandhi ( in getting people going) says he is stumped, and just cannot see " What made him succeed"? Gandhi did not have significantly more resources or time when he began, nothing that any middle class literate person like you and me is lacking.

And yet, he could mobilise people.

Now here, I am very conscious of some facts- that I am not an authority on Gandhi, nor am I committed to going into some research mode, so I can talk about him forcefully. What I have is my ( limited) view of him- and I do believe that that is what is relevant to me. If the reader here has a better view then he is welcome to share it. And beyond this explanation, I am not going to worry about my limited understanding of this that or the other.

So, Gandhi ji could mobilise people. He had something.

Why does he inspire me as a leader?

I think for myself, and I can say this; what impresses me most, into following anyone, briefly or over my life, is their capacity to dig deep. And to make me dig deeper than I ever have.

I think there is only one way I could be so motivated- if I was provoked.

And that is why, the Face Book seems a good place- it does provide an opportunity to provoke. The self first and then the other.

But I do see a dearth of staying power- not many people write notes.
The single line wall posts are all that we have time for.

Am I then destined to remain dissatisfied?

Or is this the promised land of adequate foreplay.

Thankful

2009-06-17T08:21:00.000-07:00

Dear M
Thank you for reminding me that training takes time.

There is a growing awareness of time passing by. It is difficult to accept my limitations. I will be able to do so much and no more.
Desperately running around screaming "change" is not going to work- however strong the feeling.

I thought I would plant some seeds and the tree would bear fruits and I would be able to partake of them- in a beatific state of "forever". Hahaha. Just too bad- that I have to face the reality of this tree- there is no magic here. Most likely, one tree is not enough, and perhaps many trees are not enough either. I can't really say how long one will last- mostly because these are my first trees, my first life, and I am not sure I have a precedent here that I can count on.

Unless I have a "total faith" attitude, I have to be part of this world. And the business of life shall have to be carried on forever- that is the longest lasting conclusion I have.

It's nice to have you.
I can hear myself in you, when I cannot hear myself. And it is reassuring.

I am dispensable.
This is a wow moment- wanted to share it with you.

Cheers
Smita

multi something-clearly Krishna

2009-06-13T05:06:00.000-07:00

There is something about the way one can reflect on one's own life- when talking to a specific person. Shows up a specific facet

It could have something to do with the 33 crore Gods that I am used to, instead of the One and only. At any given time, I can feel one way inclined, and there is a special God who caters to just that angle :)

I am in the US with my son- came over just this month- 6th. We are in California- Palo Alto, and it is a remarkably beautiful neigborhood.

Makes me rethink.

For one I no longer feel the need to persuade my son to come back to India. If I did not have a very strong reason to go back, like a visa that limits my stay, I would prefer it too. There is nothing I do which means anything anywhere- so I might as well hang around in what appeals to my eye and the heart.

Maybe the beauty palls.

I wonder how long that takes- for the present everything I see is wonderful. The weather is lovely- eye candy in plenty.

People I see on the roads when I walk around look well- no one is ugly, or fat or suffering- and it is difficult to believe they have a secret life on the psychiatrists' couch. I actually saw an old person on the road reach out to a flower on a tree by the road- just to smell it. He did not break it from the branch- just leaned a bit. I caught his eye, and he smiled too. He was a frail looking person- not someone on a power walk. But not poor, and lonely- like the stereotype of the aged in the west- in my head

I saw children with parents- they were enjoying each other.

Generally a smiling kind of life all around me, and friendly , unlike what one reads about the lack of open-ness in the West- from India. Classifications of people are really very misleading.

Last evening I got into a chat with a woman sitting in front of a huge pile of dried bamboo shoots, and cutting each dried leaf, piling it up on one side, the twigs going up on the other pile. The flowers in her garden looked special and she looked sort of frail. I could not make out her nationality- she was white to me.

I am still new enough to be cautious about initiating a conversation- but I could not help asking her what she was doing.

She said she would use the main bamboo shoots to make a gazebo - a shade under which one can sit down. The smaller twigs would support growing vegetable/flower plants- like her tomatoes. And most of all she just felt that the speed of life around her sometimes got too much and it helped just to sit and do something like this.

I asked her what she did to speed up things so- apparently it is not her, it's the society around her. She is originally from Iran , in the US for 35 years, and spoke of her sister who rushes around from Santa Xruz to San Francisco on a day- something she did not admire really.

I hope I get to see her again. It would be nice to sit around- she doing her gazebo, and me knitting a muffler- in the sun.

Will my son be able to sit back earlier than I can- he did say he would like to begin at 30.That is just 5 years away. I might even be around.

A friend - from my college days- in Bhopal- was speaking of his joy in his son's coming of age and making the choice to work with his father. As a parent, my friend sounded like his heart was really full. I think I would like to be there one day, during my life time.

Usually I have travelled on work with something to be done, achieved. Even holidays were like that- one needed a change with an objective to do more at the end of it.

This does feel as close to a vacation as I can imagine. We are not planning places to see, things to do while I am here. And it is just great.

I do not have a phone at home- and the internet is the only way I can communicate with anyone I know, from home.

Who is the God that matches this inclination?

Ashik ka janaza hai Zara dhoom se nikle.

2009-06-10T07:36:00.000-07:00

I may talk hard strategy - but I do it only when I am trapped.

Like the time when I had to pay back a loan to the bank, and I did not have the 50 lakhs, I had to think hard. Conceal. Lie.

Given a choice I would like to keep things simple- think positive. Deeply positive. Not just pretend to be that way.

I'd rather work on moving that switch in my head, which changes my frame of mind, than go to work on altering the reality in front of me- on which I have shit all control anyway.

It feels good- rich- to first accept a view and a way, and then question it's value for self and society.
Science however was all about questions. I really have outlived the utility of my education.

Look at the standard pattern that I follow. See something- question it.
And then I want to be universally loved. Silly really. In the questions is implicit a certain resentment and rejection of whatever I am facing. Abrasion is inevitable.

I can see however that the scientific approach is aligned to progress. An "Anti" stand makes me think faster, harder. With that awareness and the defensive stance, the juices flow.

But over that part of my life which has been lived, I think the juices have dried up. I just do not aspire as much. I'd rather have it all just enough- and just right -instead of as much as possible.

Getting it right is a better game than getting more and then trying to make the most of everything.

Is the process of acquisition losing it's charm?

That's not it. I know what follows though- Acquisitions pile up. Hoarding means work on maintenance . It is so clear that I have more than I can use before the expiry date. Mine or that on what is before me.

Worst of all, the stuff that has already expired must be disposed off. Holding on to it will raise the stink. Unless, Unless.......Organic waale jo specialists ise padh rahe hain, expert advice mangta hai.

Ya ki undertakers saamne aa jayen- let's bury the dead in as pretty a way as possible.

In the land of liberty

2009-06-07T10:04:00.000-07:00

I feel privileged.
There is a cocoon that I am in, soft in it's safety.
I can not today be anxious.
Doomsday could happen- but I am not living with that thought.
Something is interrupted.

After questions ranging from the location of the Jagannath temple in India, my impressions of isa masih, and a harrowing exchange about my financial viability in the US, the Visa interrogation officer informed me that isa masih went to India for 7-8 years to study, and then he was crucified in the Middle East. If he was not on the other side of a desk, I'd have given him a hug- must be difficult to live with that kind of a feeling about one's jesus.

Then he said he would not grant me a visa for 6 months as I wanted- he looked pleased as punch. I was thinking - and now I have to pay for changing my return ticket.

But then, stamped it for 5 months and 29 days!!!!!!! Which is two days after the day I am booked for.

Poor Arjun was outside in the baggage collection area- having gone through his own entry process separately, and he says he went through "some difficulty" ( meaning a nail biting attack) while I was in what is called the "secondary"....

San Francisco weather is like being on a hill station in summer, in India. Very very pleasant. With Hot water unlimited in the taps- I like it.

The flowers are beautiful- and I understand they bloom all year. One of the hedges on my walk today was almost white- there were so many tiny flowers on it, and it smelled so sweet, I was standing there for a bit.

I like the area where Arjun lives. Each home is different from the other- but all of them have their own trees, and flowers and some sort of space which is different from the one next door.

Seeing some really old trees I reconsidered my national feelings somewhat. There is a kind of righteousness in my claim that the trees in India are special. Which is fine,except that in that national sentiment there is a sense of exclusivity- some kind of mahan- ness.

But Palo Alto homes have as much variety- more actually- because they are apparently able to collect and nurture it, they have more resources and clearly no dearth of good taste. In Ghaziabad where we live, all old trees were chopped off this year-cannot understand why- I mean many bigger trees have flourished under Electric lines.

There were very few people on the road that I was walking on this evening- but clearly this was not an impersonal lonely place.

I felt strangely like Alice in wonderland- that it was all laid out that way for me.

As I write this, I wonder why I do not get that feeling about some people? LIke my son, and my husband? When they work, I should feel a joy in what they say they are doing for me- and enjoy what they provide.

I think I have been so caught up with the idea of my own purusharth, that enjoying the fruits of the labour of another was somehow wrong- sacrilageous. I had to do the same things.

There was no known scheme by which two people could be together in their separateness.

Being so far away from the ones I have had close to me forever, is somehow like I have died and gone to heaven. Hell cannot be this much fun. I have been awake all night, and I am not upset. I am not even blaming it on jet lag.

Will this last? Or will I start feeling guilty about not doing my duty? Today I feel happily redundant in everyone's life.

And this is very liberating.

I seek to be diverted.

2009-05-11T21:00:00.000-07:00

I have a US Visa interview this afternoon, and am looking for some diversion for the next 40 minutes at least.

Cannot think of anything more diverting than poking my nose into other people's business.
But my nose is valuable.

So I shall just look inwards and speak out.

I am seeing my friends go through stuff which at the core just comes across as what I have been through.
It is spooky. Like a ghost that visits again and again.

And I think, maybe it is all about middle age after all?

Approaching old age is not pleasant - for most of us.

Maybe we are just worried we shall die; without having done all that we set out to do with youthful vigour.

Maybe fanning our aspirations, to the magnitude that we have done, is something our failing bodies are not going to be able to cope with.

Maybe it is all of that. Anyway, it needs some adjustments- to accept one's finiteness.

Acknowledgement helps.

But when I say "I feel old" most of my friends jump up and down, denying it. My parents absolutely disagree.

The idea of a "struggle" is so romantic - I think people just hang on to it. For dear life.

To be in a state of violent "struggle" is ..... well..... obscene. That is the word that springs to my mind,

I am not out of sync with those who want to stick to the belief that life goes on till the very end. In fact I am happy to believe that life goes on, even beyond death.

But not in the same way it began.

I think it would be graceful to accept this reality.

And re-negotiate life's process as it were.

Mate it to the fact that the current parameters are different from what they were , and the new process must be designed to deal with rapidly changing realities of the future.

Man is a Social Animal

2009-05-04T00:12:00.000-07:00

So said someone in Some Social studies classroom and I am sure the statement must include women too. In the olden days, "man" implied all human beings. Even in the word "man hole", I mean.

It must have been a lesson in Primary School, because after class seven we did not have Social Studies. I was studying only Science and Maths and two languages, aiming at being an engineer.

And anyway, I am too old to remember anything which was not learnt very early.

But the thing is, that this lesson, though it stays in my memory, confuses me. Rattles my head as it were.
Because I fight it.

In the growing individualistic materialist world, of which I am a willing part, this does not make sense. I did not want to be a social animal, and I enjoyed an extended anti society teenage - right on to my middle age.

And yet, I find myself getting active on facebook, blogs, discussion forums, school and college alumni groups. In fact I am spending my best time here.

I think it is just a complex issue.

Having been anti social, the internet is easy to get social on. The technology provides some control over social invasions. At least I can deal with people when I am prepared to do so, and no one is saddled with my thoughts unless he/she seeks to be so.

Also, it is much easier to eat crow in writing than in person. I don't need to do it in every conversation. I can just provide a link to this post, and say, okay, I WAS WRONG, to think I could manage on my own steam.

There IS no steam that I can call my own. The water is coming form some common source, which is being polluted by the sewage of the masses. And I am not so sure it is being recycled appropriately, because the process is electricity intensive. And most of the electricity is being used up for non essentials.

The issue of water and electricity is killing me. As no dealing with people and being social ever did and could.

The generator has been shifted, because the neighbour on one side of the generator made so much noise about it being criminal to run a noisy generator, and looked like he was feeling like a suicide bomber. The managing committee was concerned- not about the noise, but about what? The terrorist like approach? But the noise has just moved from one part of my home to another. It has not gone.

What I can see is that one can weep or frighten the others into action. Nothing else works.
But action precipitated in a crisis is not leading to real solutions any more.

We could all, individually afford to generate 750 watts that we get from the common generator. But what about the lifts? And the common water pump? Who will run them?

Some people have already purchased their own inverter sets- but then they don't live very high in the building. It is possible to use the staircase for two floors. But I have had to ask Papa to not visit us, till the generator problem is solved finally. He is a heart patient, and although he is able to climb more than the two floors to my flat, it makes me nervous, seeing him do that.

And finally the inverters will need to be recharged. So electricity will be needed at the community level.

Of course our cooperative society has some specific problems- the people here really fight more than any other I have known- but then they are the ones with more potential than ordinary people I think.

This is Patrakar Parisar. And these are the people who chose this profession because of some sense of social commitment. They have just turned out more successful than they expected. And I think they are also living under the illusion that they have done it on their own steam.

I can already see the division within the families, because of this problem. The women are getting impatient with the men.

It has been eight years, and they have seen three managing committees ostensibly "run" by men.

Not one has brought about any improvement in the situation.

The process is clearly a failure. A hierarchical model, with the common ordinary people paying tax and voting at election time is not enough. Men and women having limited well defined functions is not working either.

What would be good? No one knows, but I think if I could work on "being" a social animal, I stand a better chance than by doing things on my own steam.

Paani ki kami hai.
jaan se haath dhoiye?

Ya phir?

I am feeling happy and hopeful

2009-05-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

Last night my prayers were answered when the society generator copped off.

The noise had been unbearable-I had not been able to watch Television for a week because I just hated any sound that I could do away with. And I am one of those who can relax by listening to loud music played at full volume when I am stressed.

Probably having that kind of sound in my ear all the time was what did it.

Too much of even a rythm that is sought, can be off putting.

I had also begun to feel rather frustrated by the apparent tolerance in people around me. They seemed to be living normal lives while I was climbing the wall. People have been saying I am over sensitive- and this was weighing on me.

But the guy who came down from a neighbouring flat really lost it. It was difficult to not feel avenged in some small way.

He said his blood pressure was rising, and it showed in the volume at which he spoke. And then he sort of embraced the generator and threatened to get violent if it was restarted. There were others, whose homes are not as close to where the generator is located. They wanted to express sympathy, and get it going somehow. So they could go home, switch on their coolers and go back to sleep.

But by then many others had joined up to say- no generator if it is so noisy.

Now the basic problem is that our old generators are in need of repair and there is no money to carry that work out. If everyone was to pay up old dues, and sit down to discuss the possibilities instead of trying to fix the blame for the not working system, there could be a real solution in sight.

For the present it is great to have refused a compromise.

We have chosen to give up now for but not given in to the hopelessness for the infinite future.

And maybe from this ability to say no to a compromised solution, shall arise the creativity to find a good way forward.

I am feeling happy and hopeful.

Knocked about- not senseless

2009-04-27T06:04:00.000-07:00

Apart from obsessing about my life and other people's death what do I do?
Quite a lot , more than I want to, and am really capable of. And doing all that does gives me this jaundiced view that is beginning to show to people around me.

It makes me laugh at horror and in joy- equally hard.

The last month was hard on me.

I wish I knew how to weep just enough, at the appropriate time.

I expected a week's work in Punjab, assisting a TV crew for a documentary. It just grew bigger and bigger. So much so there were two of us working on the same project for a while.

My friends think this work is very exciting, which it is too. I do get to meet interesting people. But some friends are beginning to expressed a desire to do part of whatever I do. Which is possible, I guess. I am not a specialist at anything I do- and if I can, so can another.

But, but: the friends I meet during and just after whatever project I have completed, usually end up feeling sympathetic with the state I am in, and relieved they were not there.

Why was this trip so difficult?

Punjab has been on my “to envy” list for years- I think I visited Punjab first time in the late nineties. After Madhya Pradesh, the roads, the rivers, the three crop fields had the green monster doing it's bit for me.

But the last two times I have been to Punjab has been horrifying. This clearly is what progress quick and hard can do. What goes up must come down- and I can see Punjab has come down big.

Baisakhi is harvest time. The wheat fields are golden-kanak kgadi hai!! When the wind passes through the top of the standing crop, the sound is sheer music. The combines do their stuff powerfully, and the crop seems much thicker than in any wheat field in Madhya Pradesh that I have seen.

But in the grain mandis I can see the grain- and I think it must be the untimely rain in the last few days that has spoilt the harvest. But Sukhdev Singh ji, of village Bhupal is categorical- this is a good year- well, as good as any in the recent past.

I hesitantly offer that the wheat I see in Madhya Pradesh looks healthier. “It is” , he says. But he promises that that will change too. Because everyone is being encouraged to go the chemical route and this will be the consequence.

People are walking on the piles of grain as it is tested weighed and loaded in row upon row of synthetic bags- instead of the old style gunny bags. “This will not allow the moisture to escape and will cause more damage to the quality”, Sukhdev Singh has a more jaundiced view than I do.

I am feeling repulsed by all the walking on what's going to be my chapati on another day. We used to buy wheat and wash it, and then have it ground and now we just buy wheat flour- and I cannot fool myself into believing that all that cleaning is going to happen between the grain Mandi and the bags of flour. But my concerns are really rather little girlish. Sukhdev Singh has just pointed out that it is not dirt I should be worried about, but cancer- because the chemical there is very deeply unheigenic.

He is viciously happy his son is studying to be an engineer, and may never want to cultivate the family land. And Sukhdev ji has only one child, and he seems attached emotionally to his land so I am confused. But somewhere I a sense a kind of relief for the future of his son. At least he will not need to deal in this “ghate ka sauda” , a deal destined to make a loss. And he will be safe from the desperations of the loans that other people around them are having to cope with.

Shubhranshu has been trying to get people in Chhattisgarh to explore the farmer suicide by giving figures- and no one seems to understand what he is saying. I think maybe people in Chhattisgarh should meet up with the Punjabi farmer. The one who is part of the 80% who have less than 6 acres of land.

It is not surprising that Sukhdev ji feels this way. The downfall is too much in the face to ignore.

The men from Punjab were, ahem, the guys that women fell for. Dharmender ji and then Sunny ji? Gabru Jawans galore.

But Sukhdev ji is talking of early aging, premature hair whitening, all because of the chemicals in his food, and I don't want to say I see what he means. His beard is absolutely white. He is only 51.

We met many types of people- the successful benefit reaping farmer of the green revolution time, and activists working towards Organic Agriculture, for survival. What I glean from these exchanges is that at the root of these problems is water- or lack of it. In the land of five rivers. With canals that have more water than I have ever seen.

Punjab was a wheat growing, wheat eating area. The Punjabis cooked rice for special occasions- or for guests. Now they are proud cultivators of rice. It has become an essential part of their daily diet.

But there is also the fact that the government has had to intervene and ensure that no farmer is able to sow rice straight after the wheat harvest. Reason- rice uses up a lot of water- and water levels are falling alarmingly in Punjab. If it is sown after 15 th of June there is a better chance of it's being able to make use of the natural rain , and thus avoid over pumping. But that has happened only after the farmers groups raised the issue.

104 of 138 blocks have been identified as dark zones with respect to water problems. That is a lot- even to me.

On the face of it I see the wells throwing up a good six inch stream of water- the likes of which I have never seen in Madhya Pradesh. In Bhopal we are happy if we can get enough water to drink, from the bore well. Had I come on a tour of Punjab and just looked at the fields, instead of talking to the farmers, I would have felt as envious as ever.

But the thing is that this plentiful water is coming from wells which need to be deeper and deeper by the year. Sukhdev Singh ji has a 6 acre farm in which he has dug 10 wells in the last thirty years. The first one was 50 feet deep, and the latest is 550 feet in depth. The first one cost twenty thousand rupees or thereabouts, and the last one was three and a half lakhs. The worst bit was that the crop, despite this huge expense was not good enough to pay for the well itself. He will have to keep sowing rice- to pay for the well, and maybe save some money. But he is not confident of being able to do that. Because the returns, despite the increasing inputs, have reached a plateau. The earth is not able to yield any more. Whatever he does.

I can relate with this one on a personal level. I mean I am not able to deliver either- whatever medicines I take and whatever the nutritional supplementing.

I would have thought that with the kind of crops I see standing in fields, the farmers must be prosperous. But there is more than meets the eye. He says, the farmer of Punjab is paying for his very strength. His never say die attitude is what will kill him. He keeps investing – in chemicals, in deeper wells, mortgages his wife's jewellery, and then his land, and property- which he built in the early days of the green revolution. But the support price he gets is inadequate. And the land has given up.

And when Sukhdev Singh ji talks of the earth as his mother I feel tearful and exhausted. Over exploited too.

And this was only a part of my trip.

I should just do what the GP says- follow the kasai who chops because that is his work. He cannot afford to relate personally to the slaughtered animals.

Life goes on

2009-04-23T20:07:00.000-07:00

The aches that I used to complain about, have turned to an electric shock kind of sensation- similar to the kind that one has when the funny bone is tapped right. Maybe this is an opportunity to replicate the funny bone in other body parts. Have more reason to laugh.

Only, the intensity of tingling is no longer ticklish, it is painful. Imagine being subjected to tiny electric shocks throughout your day. I am convinced this is a preparatory- for the serious torture in store for me in the future? Maybe in police custody- after all the Slumdog scene did not come out of nothing.

Thank God no one is blaming my overactive imagination, even though I have one.
I do hate it when people doubt my ability to differentiate between real and imaginary. Upsets me more than much else.

The tests confirm neuropathy. Says the GP.

He is good- I like him.

Actually, I choose to go to him because of his holistic approach. He is the kind who can appreciate that the 5 minute exercise and 15 minutes of meditation mean an hour of peace- difficult to find in the life styles we are moving towards. He has a lateral thinking, metaphorical expression which I find helpful instead of the “take this medicine and don't ask too many questions” approach.

I am inclined to see my problems arise from stresser situations.The physical ones too- after all the body is a reflection of the mind.

So I ask him how serious the problem is, because the tests are showing some pretty obviously alarming results.

That sets him off, “People who have seen a lot of this and that and have faced difficulties tend to worry. This can cause some changes to happen in the mind. But anxiety cannot help.”

That makes sense- generally speaking, I am thinking.

But specifically, in the real world where I have this painful sensation in the ring finger of my left hand, I need some real stuff to feel reassured.

But now the discomfort is beginning to show in his face. He does look more anxious than I think I feel.

He is darting private looks at my husband. As private as one can make it when all of us are sitting within a 3 feet radious and I am able to see his face and my husband's as well. I think he is seeking some guidance from one who knows her well, one of those "How much truth can the little woman take?" kind of query evident in his eyes.

No help there- husband's face is deadpan. He is listening very attentively- because I have reminded him, just before we set off for the clinic, of how well I take care of him when he is ill. And he wants to do well by me.

Now the poor GP has to decide about how much of the truth he is going to share.

I feel pity well up in my bosom. Usually I am the one who is listening about his advice for my husband, and that is easier than finding out stuff about myself. Something on my face worries him Maybe it is the worry showing up.

The GP gets blubbery-he tries again, opening with an “It is nothing.”

But he is a good guy, and this is not the whole truth. I want him to tell me that the TSH and homocysteine high is actually okay- nothing to worry about. Which I know for a fact is not possible. But I am no longer the reasonable care provider- I am not feeling well.

The GP is indignant now. If I don't address the problem, I might loose speech and sensation and such like. He says. Husband maintains the deadpan face- and I am deeply unhappy with this exchange now.

I can even acknowledge some despair in myself. It spills out as sarcasm- Is that all? Loss of speech and inability to use limbs is not something I should be worried about?

And then the GP loses it all, “See how the kasai cuts meat? Does he think of the animals who are being killed? He just goes ahead and chops- because that is his job!!”.

What the hell is he saying? I am now feeling like the animal under the chopping knife, and I am not detached from this situation.

Or maybe I am. because there seems little point in probing further. The GP is looking helpless. He has given up- on trying to explain, I mean.

The only decision I can take now is to take the medicine he has advised, and look elsewhere for emotional comfort, or better scientific understanding.

My blood pressure is very low- which helps. It is difficult to get really agitated at that level.

I think I need some strength to deal with this situation. I try to argue with the husband on the way home. That usually charges me up,sort of. But he gets more rattled than me. Poor guy- he has no escape- unlike the GP who can collect his fees and pack me off.

We are going home- to be together for ever. Or for as long as I live- and there is a vicious satisfaction in the picture of my husband taking care of helpless wife.

In the next 30 seconds my mood swings.

I am wallowing in self pity over the representatives of the medical profession in my life. How is it that I am drawn to these types - there is my psychaitrist whose other patients are clearly more needy than me. There was the doctor in Ayurvaidyasala, who pointed me to some people who are more unfortunate and whose plight is worse. A homeopath who I try to consult on phone as she lives in Bhopal. She is great when she is able to connect- but sometimes I cannot reach her on phone for months- and she says- yahi prarabdh hai hamara.(This is our destiny!!)

I think I should call Bahadur Uncle. He says his mind is wandering these days. I'm thinking, at his age I suppose I shall be happy to have a mind at all. And he has responded to the telpehone on the second ring. We talk about a friend who passed away recently. Thank God he died in his sleep. We shall pass too. But Bahadur Uncle's mind is not wandering aimlessly- he is thinking of Ghalib,

इक तेरी दीद छिन गयी मुझसे
वरना दुनिया में क्या नहीं बाकी

That makes more sense than the scientific stuff that medical reports are made of- I mean some significant things will not be there- like maybe I shall lose the ability to speak, and do things with some limbs but life shall go on.

Oh dear.........

2009-04-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

That row of houses is special to me-
My golden oldies got together there- morning and evening, for years.
And they talked to me of Kamayani, and piles, and Ghalib, revealed unmentionable stuff about each other- and laughed- because there really is no point in doing anything else.

Well Chauhan Uncle was the only one of the gang, who could emote with tears too. Surprising, because he was not like the Bollywood Thakurs at all.

Oh I will miss him- definitely.

And if there is a life after the physical one- which I personally like to believe, maybe he is actually laughing at this post- because he is now rid of all his physical ailments, and has a better veranda than the one he had in Bhopal. And perhaps the noise of the traffic there is not as irritating. He does not have to deal with leaking roofs, and the rickety chairs which looked like they could be repaired, but were really through and done.

I shall still send the same forwards to Papa, and maybe Chauhan Uncle will be able to read them and laugh- without the printouts. Perhaps his hearing is better too.

I shall go down to Bhopal when I do- for the present I shall get on with doing what I have to do, in the here and now.

This is recession time, and I should be grateful that I have work.

Oh dear........I am not a very grateful person. That is how I feel right now.

one of those things........

2009-03-30T23:23:00.000-07:00

Why is this special?
It is not. Just another betrayal!! And that does not mean much, really.

We sing glorifying stuff about Vibhishan. But his brother could not have felt great when that one hit him.
Nor could Judas have been easy on poor Jesus.

But the chameleon was easy to forgive and forget- he could not control something that was so intrinsic to him- his very nature.
And so I must accept that some people I trust are not naturally trustworthy. They will do stuff which could be potentially harmful to me.

Mutuality of agreements be damned. And after all at some time I must have done something that made someone feel betrayed. I could not have lived half a century, without that under my belt.

S/He survives who can take care of her/himself. It really does not matter whether I do or not- survive I mean.
What matters is to accept and live in reality. When that gets too ugly to deal with, move on to philosophy- asha dukh ka mool hai kind of stuff that carries you through the real deep shit.

And after, you shall get back to feeling - great.

I thought MACT was a wonderfully Bhopali name

2009-03-27T18:07:00.000-07:00

But now it's called Manit.

I hated college - the list of reasons is really long, and too tedious to share here.

But what worked for me was the building especially the long semi open corridoors ( The one from the Principal's office to the Architecture Department was long, lit just right, and the pillar after pillar feeling made me think infinity. And the trees- yes, the trees were something else. Not that the grass was any less significant, the college authorities made a neat sum out of that contract even then.

My favourite season was the monsoon, when acres and acres of the hill would sprout green, with the Eucalyptus trees swaying gently with the water laden wind, that was a little less gentle than a breeze, and stopped a little short of the wild.

The monsoon was- Bhopal!!

But then the slash of red that the Gulmohar flowers made on a grey monsoon sky just before it disappeared for the year, was an inspiration for my dream sari.

The gentle pink blooms of Kachnar were exactly what our home had against the very same purple grey sandstone that the college building was made of. And they were there during the exams- the annual affair in the dry summer heat.

It must have meant something to me- all that beauty, because I remember it over and above the horrible experience that was college.

And now the name of the college has been changed to MANIT- which makes MACT one of the community of Engineering colleges, and takes away that sense of uniqueness- which was what was the charm of being one of the girls in the batch of 1981.

But then, I ain't no girl either. And the facade of the college entrance is so- ordinary now.

So be it.

The guys are much better middle aged. I have felt their concern - one human being to another. And I will take the here and now- at all times.

Craving pink

2009-03-26T18:28:00.000-07:00

A young ( by my standards please!!) woman journalist who I met through another journalist, who I know as one of my father's close friend's son, rang me up the other day.

She is currently doing a column on beauty in a weekly, and wanted to know what kind of stuff I might like to read?

Well, faced with that question, my immediate response was- nothing.

I really don't care to read your beauty column at all.

I have carried this chip on my shoulder about inner beauty being the important thing- for a substantial part of my life. Long enough to have wasted some considerable time pretending "looks don't matter" .

And then I remembered this quiz I have taken on Face Book. It says, and this is something that many people, including my long suffering family members, have pointed out ever so often; that I come across as an aggressive person. The quiz adds that I am "not really mean" implying as it were, that I come across that way as well.

But I like M, and she was telling me she respects my opinion.

So I tried to deal with the impulse to speak my whole truth- the impulsive kind. The one about Beauty Columns being a waste of time.

But M is a good journalist I think- tenacious. Only she is young, and which young adult would like to acknowledge that? I have more than a sneaking suspicion she does not want to do this beauty column- would prefer to do more "worthwhile stuff". (Which means it has to be ugly and about the majority of Indians- the poor.) It might not be easy for her either. I bet some people - friends and family- have been pulling her leg. From what she was doing (being the flag/torch bearer) to doing a beauty column could be a come down.

Maybe I could and should extend this conversation a bit, deal with my own initial aggressive response, and check out what she was doing.

I pointed out to her that we had met. Was it not obvious, from the way I presented myself, that inner beauty is what matters to me- and I really am not one of the consumers of beauty products.

Oh dear, I could see that this was part of the game playing- the one I engage in with that particular chip on my shoulder.

As I dealt with that on a side lane in my head, I could acknowledge gradually that actually I do read stuff which is not necessarily meaningful, by being about sad difficult matters.

I do love to read the page 3 kind of stuff too. And I jolly well enjoy it as much as I care to read about the terrible things that are happening in Chhattisgarh. I like the idea of looking exciting as much ( well, almost as much) as I want to ensure some effective action is being taken to rectify a bad situation there.

But what I enjoy most of all is the romance in both. Well maybe in everything.

Whatever the issue, the wrapping has to be romantic for me to be interested.

Facts are useful, and my actions may be determined on the basis of reality. But I would buy only romance- given a choice.

I love the earthy colours for sure, but maybe , just maybe I have longed to be pink.

M has promised to send me a copy of what she does this week.

A pity

2009-03-20T03:44:00.000-07:00

I would like to call it a day. But it does not work quite like that.

The mind does not stop functioning. It can be slowed down, purposefully, by making it give up. But it is an effort. So while I hope to make people believe I have called it a day, I know I have not.

Being a democratic person, it makes sense when that is the popular expressed opinion - that I have done enough and it's time I moved on. I think people who tell me to move on, have my good at heart. It is an expression of their love for me.

If longevity is indeed the curse that those who have been around longer say it is, then what is the point of hanging around? I would like to kill myself- but I don't have what it takes. I wish I did.

I just keep doing more stuff. And doing something cannot lead to happiness.

But I don't have what it takes- to stop.

whatever

2008-08-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

My dear N
I'm beginning to feel very clever. Mostly, I think it is about having variety in life - till anything and everything seems alright. The sense of right and wrong is completely destroyed.
And all that matters is- how are you feeling - right then and there.
At this moment I am fine.
The day is a good temperature and the light is beautiful. We have enough milk for morning coffee. There are some possibilities for the evening about which at least I have not made up my mind.
I did not know that butterflies flitted over trees- and to be able to see them do that over the Gulmohar tree outside our second floor balcony is a pleasure.
I like the way they move about - there is one motion that is sort of within them, and I feel that that is the one that holds them up. And there is another one that takes them here and there.
I think the one that gives them direction is not clever- and it;s okay for butterflies to be silly all the time and keep going as soon as they are awake. Personally I am taken with just enough effort- to remain suspended - higher than ground level, so I can see more of what is happening.
I don't know where this came from- but this is what I wanted to say this morning.
cheers
Smita

Shanti at last

2008-04-22T22:33:00.001-07:00

My dear A
She died yesterday- on 22/4/8.
The newspapers reported it thus "A middle aged woman jumped from the third floor of her house. She,who never recovered from the suicide of her teenaged daughter a few years back."

How could she? That event was variously described by the newspapers and in obituaries as a "senseless accident". This is the way a cry for help is often desribed- a senseless act on the spur of the moment.

I object.

You say her son did not deserve this. I say, she did not either.
Nobody deserves to be in a position where help is just not available.
Not when they seem to be surrounded by family and friends.

I am sorry.
For the people who remain behind- difficult for them to take responsibility and yet put down the cross. And wonder whether they would really not rather be there where she is.

I am glad.
That she died when she tried this time.
Or else, her situation would have been worse. It was not the first time she tried it. And how often can you afford to survive your suicide attempts!!!
The law does not allow you to fail attempts at killing yourself. The society anyway prefers it if you are successful at what you do.

It is so inconvenient for people to have someone who keeps pointing out that they are not listening to a call for help. Makes people feel small, and nasty generally. Generates anxieties about themselves that they cannot deal with in the specified allotted time frame on their daily hygiene calendar.

Requires action – a disturbance in their chosen life styles – the one where they persure their own happiness. Implies a fault in their current set of choices.

Ultimately, it is so much more convenient to applaud a success than to support failures. And then this is a rare social opportunity where success of another can be condoled- extremely satisfactory from the point of view of the living.

I congratulate her for her success.
For beating some of us to the goal post- a freedom from the desire for freedom.

I envy her.
As I did often in her life time.
As bottom line evaluations go, this one to me, is a positive close to a life account.
An acceptance of her reality with all her heart,mind, soul and body.

I bow to her- as a representative of the people who bear pain for as long as they can- and then pass on.

For in passing on, we are all finally as equal as God made us.
Good bye and Godspeed to her.

You are right- it was her choice and she made it.

I would like to believe that she deserved to be happy- and that this act made her supremely happy - in her triumph. She did her very best- and at last it worked.

Cheers

Smita

Medicine?

2006-05-30T20:22:00.000-07:00

Today could be the kind of day when one should write. This could be purposeful, directed, communication.
I chose not to take medicine. Because it does not do what I expect it to.

What do I expect the medicine to do?
Make me feel better.

The best of them makes me fall asleep, and when I wake up I feel better, because I feel hopeless and I don’t seem to care. There is an acceptance of hopelessness. Because of this I feel able to detach myself from whatever is going on around me. People around me seem like specks. And this good feeling lasts as long as I can remain at this Godly vantage point.
With medicine the desire for improvement dies. I think desire itself dies.
The medicine hits me on the head as it were and makes me feel fuzzy. I loose all my drive- and the ability to drive too. A car has to be driven in traffic- but if everything around me seems insignificant, driving could be dangerous. I had better not step on those pedals thinking of the DTC bus as an insignificant object to be disregarded.

It’s good for a while, periodically. Because it gives me a pause and I can then begin my journey afresh with the slower train of thought.

However, if I breathe deeply, make it a point to feel relaxed, eat food that is light , I seem to undergo the same slowing down, complete with cramps and body ache and the rest. Only it is slower – does not effect me like being hit on the head.

The doctors warn me that the medicine is addictive. I think I should try and get addicted to relaxing, to regularity, instead of taking medicine except in an emergency.

What constitutes an emergency? When something that upsets me, or stresses me out needs to be done. Unquestionably.

I don't think I want to do many things without questioning the need for doing them.

So I suppose it can be concluded that medicines do not make me feel better. Or think better. Or be better- I mean what improvement is possible without questions?