Unspoken

You feel this warmth towards certain people: feel connected to them for some reason. You may not have met them; you may be friends, but not spoken about this affection you feel for them; with some, you may have even tried telling them, but floundered to find the right words; and then, with a few – very few – you actually do manage to communicate, and they understand you. 

That doesn’t mean that you stop caring about the others that you care about: even if this affection is something that you just carry in your heart: no, not quite like a burden. Small talks, occasional enquiry, a line here, a word there, laughter shared, conversations had – frivolous and serious, sadness understood, prayers whispered in secret… These are all that remain. These are sufficient.

And, these are friendships surrendered to God.

Sands of time

Sands of time slipping through my fingers

Flowing like streams of water

Not to worry

They flow back

In to the endless ocean of sand

Without hurry

I will grab another handful

And savour the feel

Of sand slipping through my fingers

More than that...

To repay evil for evil is ethics. To repay good for evil is grace.

The world has gone beyond the point where morals and ethics work. The need of the hour is grace.

Hindsight...

With hindsight, I would have done certain things differently, but I wouldn't have had the hindsight if I didn't do those things.

Dreaming on...

There are a few things that are a constant in the world. They may be expressed differently at different times, but they continue to exist. The struggle between the powerful and the powerless, that between good and evil, and that between idealists and status-quo'ers.

It is difficult being a dreamer. Constant struggle against the tide is the way of life. But they wouldn't have it any other way. If anything, it is the struggle that whets their appetite for more. Yes. They do pull out of the stream every once in a while to recoup the strength and reassess the path of the river only to dive straight back into the river to continue their swim against the tide.

Even if it takes aeons, even if they don't see evidence, they continue and they persist. Sometimes violently. Sometimes silently.

It is these people that change the course of the river. May God give them strength and ever use them to bring the Kingdom.

Shrinking Villages and Green Cities

Most of my vacations and holidays were spent in my aunt's village. Days were spent going from one farm to the other, walking in the shades of coconut trees, playing in water, observing farm what farm labourers did, riddling them and they riddling me, sowing groundnuts, transplanting onion saplings, sitting on the cane chair outside in the evening and watching the stars...

Over the years things have started to change. Many farmers have opted to do coconut farms instead of crops. Some have stopped farming altogether. Many farmlands are being purchased by 'developers' and are plotted into 'sites' and are being sold to people who may want to build their retirement homes in the future. All these are signs of 'development' around here. Things are becoming urban. Anju had written about a similar experience about a year and a half ago.

I suppose it is inevitable. As the population increases more forests get converted into farmland, farmland into house, and on and on it goes. I also suppose it is justified as farmers aren't protected or incentivised for growing food. Urban development and industrialization seems to be the focus. Rural development, although talked about and certain things being done for the sake of having done something about it, isn't really the focus. Throw into this cauldron freebies that politicians give away to ensure strong vote-bank, we seem to have the perfect strategy for going downhill.

However, certain things give me hope. All is not lost. This article - although happening in Detroit - shows me that things are possible. Development keeps coming back to empowerment.

Abandoned... NOT

Alright. I did abandon my blog for this long. Hope to turn over a new leaf. New year is a good time to do that, eh?

Thought i'd post this random, albeit insightful(!), conversation i had with my friend yesterday.

Well. She's a person who would say it as it is. Someone who you'd say is blunt. Someone that has a sharp tongue. I, on the other hand, am a person with a smooth tongue. Very diplomatic (i think).

Somehow, the words 'sharp' and 'blunt' seem unsuited. Don't you think?

Besides, it takes a very sharp knife to cut something very smoothly.

So... the point being...

Ah well. Life goes on...

Making sense...

There is nothing new under the sun. Even the thoughts which are new to me aren’t really new. Other people would have thought up those ideas long ago. Even now there could be a number of people having the same ideas. What then makes my thoughts special?

Is it the personal discovery of it? Perhaps.

What moves me to share those thoughts with others? Is it to see if there is anybody who would understand me and share my discovery with me? To see if there are others who think like me? Perhaps.

Perhaps we all seek to connect and understand and make sense. Perhaps, each of us brings different pieces of the jigsaw. Each of us puts out the pieces of puzzle that we hold helps us makes sense of the bigger. Perhaps that is why melding your thought with mine makes better sense.

The big picture, I suppose, is the same old, same old. However, discovering the varied different pieces, seeing it come together, and watching the meaningfulness emerge is new. It is brand new.

Jealous

Jealousy, like a drop of heavy poison

Grips my heart and drags it down

Through the mud

I try to grab my heart

And squeeze the last drop

Out of it

While i rest

Thinking that I’m rid of the poison

I feel my heart become heavy again

The darkness stains my mind

The claws clutch my conscience

Drop by drop

Little by little

Claw by claw

I will be rid of it

By the power of Him

who can rid me of it

Stories

I have been wondering at the power stories hold.

Stories are a part of everybody's lives. I, too, have had my fair share of stories - both consuming them and creating them. From the stories my mother would read in the newspaper supplements and tell me going to bed, to the fictions i have guzzled, to the movies i've watched, to the funny anecdotes that are repeated ever so often, and the stuff i've read and written in blogs. There is nothing new about stories.

Yet, they are so fascinating. Recently, i have been wondering at the power stories hold. Stories bring home reality like nothing else does, even if it is just imagined fiction. I amazed at the way a human being can connect to the life and experiences of another person, in another situation, in another world altogether.

I am sure there are a number of rational explanations as to why it happens, but that still does not diminish the wonder of it all.

The movie Australia, although not one of the best ones, really struck a chord in me. This brought to life the experiences of the Stolen Generation. Stolen Generation was something that was close to my heart, because of the stories my good friend from the down under shared with me when explaining to me what brought her to India.

There are stories that have made me feel helpless. Slumdog Millionaire, Hard-boiled Wonderland, Disgrace. While the injustice is made apparent in the imagined world, it brings home the reality in my world. Like the protagonists in these stories, there is nothing you can do.

And then, there are stories that have warmed my heart. The struggle between good and evil and the eventual triumph of good. I especially love stories where the struggle between good and evil takes place in one person's heart and not necessarily between the good party and the bad party. In essence, the good and the bad dwell in the same person. That person's victory over the evil in their heart is something that gives me hope.

There are imperfect stories, with the not so perfect ending. Nonetheless, reflecting the imperfection of the world and its people. This in itself is a revelation of the desire for perfection.

Well, there are all sorts of stories out there. And i hope to relish them, and let them do their thing in my heart. For often, data justifies my motivation, but it is stories that provide the motivation.

You learn

I am doing a few things at this point of time in my life...

• Wondering who to vote for on Wednesday
• Taking the summer for what it is with minimal complaining about heat
• Loving work
  
• Loving my new place (it's not quite so new now)
• Learning some new things
• Unlearning some old things
• Relearning some unlearned things
• Trying to get my blog up and running again
• Contemplating changing the layout and design, etc.
  

What's up with you this summer?

Fossils and other troubles in office...

1. Every time i want to open my hotmail account, i type in 'hot' and hit enter. Unfortunately, the auto complete does not take me to hotmail unless i type 'hotm'. And the result? It takes me to the google page for hot...

2. I cleaned my desk after a long time, and this is what i found...For those of you wondering what it is, it is a fossil (?) of a dead house (or office in this case) lizard. A baby by the looks of it...

Don't ask...

Everybody's gotto have their say (about elections), cause that's what we do in democracy

This morning I woke up uttering the word ‘idiots.’ There was a speaker blaring loud, inane songs*, the lyrics of which were interspersed with mention of the symbol used by one of the major** parties here.

There are certain things that I don’t understand. Canvassing methods used by the political parties here is one such recent mystery. While technology and advertising have taken giant steps forward with all their subliminal messages and whatnots, the canvassing methods seem to have got stuck in a time warp. There is nothing subliminal about them. Absolutely nothing.

Well, I must confess they have made some sort of progress. They used those larger versions of bullhorn sort of speakers before. Now the normal kind of speakers are used, although that still hasn’t affected the quality of sound.

And oh, I’ve also managed to catch glimpses of different dances and buggy rides that have been used in canvassing in certain other parts of the country. From what little I saw/read of those, it just looked comical.

From what little I have perceived in the last couple of months, this year’s canvassing seems to have turned away from all the real issues and have turned toward these varying kinds and degrees of stupidity. This, I believe, is a ‘distraction technique’ something akin to what we would do to keep a child from crying or something like that.

Coming back to the issue at hand, perhaps, what happened this morning was a stride forward in canvassing techniques. May be, just may be, the opposing party was the one that was blaring the noise so loud, at 6 am in the morning, so that people will be put off from voting for that particular party.

All this makes it increasingly difficult to ‘choose’ whom I should vote for. Or perhaps, should I say, this has only made it easier?

* They couldn’t exhibit creativity even in the songs! The tunes are all popular Tamil movie song tunes, which are sometimes copies themselves.

** I’m not sure if there are majority parties in India anymore, nor even majority ‘coalition’ of parties.

Me

I don't have it in me
To be what you want me
to be
To be what i ought
to be

Who is me?
A somebody that already is?
Or a somebody that is still becoming?

How far do i stretch out
before i stop being me?
How far do i stretch out
to become me?

All in a box

I am packing to move houses. And my favourite place to start is the bookshelf. As I try to figure how to place the books of such various dimensions, I wonder why they can’t be all of the same shape and size to make packing neat and easy.

I smile. It is the difference that makes each unique. The length, the breath, the thickness, the binding, the cover, the content… Each so different.

And they shall all have a place in the cardboard cartons.

I sigh

Drowning in a sea of thoughts
Waves crashing
One against another
And new ones forming
Rushing towards my conscious mind

I struggle to resurface
To thrust my head
Through the crashing thoughts
I gasp for breath
I sigh

My friends tease me about the number of times i sigh. I quite didn't know how to explain why i sighed so much. And i didn't intend to write this thing as an explanation. I sat sighing this morning and this is what came out of it. :-)

Should have done this earlier, but i suppose i'm not too late...

Happy New Year, folks!

Revisiting places... and memories...

My facebook status said that I was visiting one my favourite places on earth.

Certain things make certain places special. Sometimes it is the sheer beauty of the place. It could also be the people there. Certain times it is simply the memories that place holds for you.

This place that I went to sure holds a lot of memories for me. Most of my holidays were spent there. Roaming the farms, playing in the sand, making bullock cart miniatures, learning to climb trees (never did succeed. I tried to start with a coconut tree. Bad choice for beginners.), and learning to play gilli thandu (which, again, I failed at).

My aunt and uncle don’t live in the farm house anymore. They’ve moved to the village proper. And these days when I visit, I don’t usually visit the farms. Today I decided to.

The funny thing with growing up is everything that looked big and far don’t seem that big or far anymore. Not much has changed except that one of the farms has become a coconut farm, the farm house is gone, though there is a portion of the old building still standing. The bend in the road is still the same. And the bumps. You use the age old trick to escape dogs – bend down pretending to pick a stone. And oh, some things were bigger. The coconut trees in one of the farms that I used to walk past. They’ve grown quite tall.

On the way back I spotted a peacock.

I love villages. I love this particular village.

I would love to hear about your favourite places and the memories they hold for you. So, let's play tag.
Marsha, here's one more blog idea for you. Madison and Sandy, i love your stories and insights. Anju, i know you have some stories and you are dying to tell them. Clarissa, if you want to play along. And anybody else that wants to reminisce, please play along.

Sometimes, i've been called a Grinch...

I've been tagged!

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate?
Like the person who tagged me, I haven’t had egg nog. So, I will go for hot chocolate.

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree?
No Santa. No Christmas trees. Friends and family give me gifts. Friends usually wrap them. Family just give them.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white?
Again, no Christmas tree. And, no lights on the house. The lights in the house are usually the fluorescent bulbs and them yellow blubs which consume lot of energy.

4. Do you hang mistletoe?
No mistletoe. Haven’t seen one in my life. Ever. Well, except on television, I suppose.

5. When do you put your decorations up?
Ummm… I don’t put up decorations.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?
Guess it would be what I eat at Thom’s Christmas party.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child:
As a child, I was back from my boarding school for the holiday season. And I guess my favorite memory is of going to my aunt’s place and roaming around on the farms.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?
Well, I didn’t know I was supposed to believe in him in the first place. My early memories of Santa were of this somebody who was dressed as one distributing prizes during some school Christmas celebration. And no, there was no gift-receiving during Christmas.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?
Ummm… The last couple of years I opened them on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. This year I forgot and opened it on the day I received it. Yes, I am the one that Anju is talking about.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas Tree?
See response to no. 2.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it?
I have never ever seen snow.

12. Can you ice skate?
Nope.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift?
Umm. I guess there are quite a lot.

14. What is the most important thing about the Holidays for you?
Friends and food. Family doesn’t really celebrate Christmas.

15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert?
See response to no. 6.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Don’t have holiday traditions really.

17. What tops your tree?
No tree.

18. Which do you prefer giving or receiving?
Both.

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?
O, Come all ye faithful

20. Candy Canes: Yuck or Yum?
Not really fond of candies.

21. What do you want for Christmas?
World peace?! Ha ha.

22. Do you attend an annual Christmas Party?
Guess it would be Powerhouse’s and Thom’s and those that my friends host. Used to go to the Svobodas’, but they’ve moved. :-(

23. Do you dress up on Christmas or wear PJs?
I dress normally.

24. Do you own a Santa hat?
Nope.

25. Who do you normally spend Christmas with?
Friends from church. But this year it’s with family.

And I tag Sandy, Julie, Clement and anybody who wants to play it...

Memories

I have been listening to stories. From people who have seen quite a bit of life. (I hope to be such a story-teller when I am their age!) While I have learned a lot from those conversations, there’s this thing that stands out for me now.

What you are actually left with are memories. And a good life is a shoe-box full of good memories from which you can pull out snapshots of people and past, look at the moments frozen in time and smile…