In the land of liberty

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.