‘Islandness’

Not all those who are born with wings are compelled to fly long distances. They fly around their demarcated territories and come back home with the setting sun. Yet, there are those who cross the waters, savour different types of food and build their nests with different materials. So are the travellers and migrants.

You can be deep-rooted to your soil or conveniently airborne that you can easily replant yourself elsewhere. A traveller can afford to love or hate the land he/ she is exploring. He can openly criticize the food he gets to eat or the natives who are too lazy to point their fingers at the direction of the super market he has been looking for. A traveller can always leave the land when his least favourite season hits it. A traveller finds his own universe within the universe. His travel journal may not contain the label of the worst food he ate or the picture of the most insolent native he met; yet, it will have the theatre ticket of the most mesmerizing opera he viewed and many accounts on the random acts of kindness by the natives.

 There is an attachment within this detachment. There is a freedom to come and go as one pleases.
Only the time will tell you whether you are a traveller or a resident. For us, what makes life more difficult in a foreign soil is the fact that we tend to seek too much of home comforts. This ‘islandness’ has its pros and cons. It must be the smallness of the entity that one can reach the other end of the country within less than twenty-four hours. There is no vastness for one to get lost. There is fresh air even the city. There is space to breathe and neighbours to talk to. A migrant does not necessarily mean a one who forgets his roots. He or she is a person who has a great amount of courage to do what the seemingly brave travellers are reluctant to try out; be a resident instead of going places. Accept the conditions and try to get used to them. Bring up their children and still teach them the cultural values and their histories. Make them feel proud of a culture they have never tasted. They will make a home in a far away land, and inevitably take a tinge of ‘islandness’ there with them. True enough, opportunities draw them there. Unlike all sorts of fairytales that are painted, they land with the realistic pictures, and for them survival matters more than anything else.

When things do not work out, something tugs them to home, and like the birds do in their winter flights, they will come looking for their old nests and be grateful for the fact that, in this island home, the world spins slowly.

Love by any other name

Sometimes, you come to love people for simply what they are. You crave for their company and intellectual conversations. Sometimes, you find comfort in the company of strangers and come to realize that they are more fascinating than the people you call your own.

It is not wrong to yearn for somebody to read your mind and wordlessly offer you a shoulder when you need to have a good cry. Sometimes, you come across people whom you don’t mind exchanging with the seclusion you seemed to have enjoyed so far. You hear poetry in their voice and find a guiding light in their eyes. There will be victory in attention they pay you. This does not necessarily have to be romance. A friend can be all this without being a lover.

Yet, sometimes we you fail to define the margins between love and infatuation, jealousy and devotion, and friendship and romance. Often we wonder whether it is necessary that every relationship has a name irrespective of the fact whether the name we give describe the nature of the relationship accurately. Sometimes, what we don’t realize is that societies adopted to the theory of naming objects only for people’s convenience. So, it is not necessary that all your relationships have name so that society finds it easy to refer to it. There is no criteria  under which you can standardize a relationship. It depends on the people who are involved in it. If the two parties are comfortable with their stride together without a name, it cannot be a problem to anyone else.  As long as you are not jumping the moral boundaries ,it is rather better to go without a name than calling it the wrong name at times.

Sometimes what people don’t realize is that personal relationships are complex than what they find on the surface. For an outsider it can be just another ‘juicy tale’ on undecided lovers who are about to fall in or out of love. Yet, when it becomes your own tale rather than a story found in a tabloid, you tend to think hard and empathize with those had been there before you. You begin to understand the grave error you had committed by trying to judge and measure such relationships.

Be it love, friendship or even romance, it is the business of those who are in relationships to call them what they prefer; whether they call them right names or wrong ones is another matter. Friends fall in love and lovers fall out. Strangers become special friends but do not achieve the ‘lover’ status. It is love that shows its face in every gesture of care. It is love that makes one send random text messages in the most unusual hours. Yet, this love need not be branded; it can survive in its generic form.  

I still do…

The evenings that pass often put me on the idle mode.  There is a chill that throws me under the blanket much earlier than my usual bedtime. There is thunder that throws fireworks across the skies every two minutes. Looking at the sky, much awestruck, I am still the twelve-year-old who had a thing for star charts and the one who wrote poetry to the sky.  

The rain falls; with its huge waterdrops falling against my window with a thudding sound. I have been watching the rain since the day I knew its name. I have looked at it from many angles, had written many pieces and taken quite a few pictures of it. Yet, I still stand amazed at the way the surroundings change before the rain; I still welcome the first few raindrops that wet my hair before it grows into a shower.

I still prefer walking in the rain with my umbrella half flying in the wind than getting into a cab to hurry home. Whether you are watching it from a bus window or you stand inside a crowded bus stop, the rain has a calming effect on people. It can slow you down and remind you to breathe. As crazy as it may sound,  I still feel the trees smiling in the rain that falls after a drought. Looking at them with an open mouth, I still wish I were another tree in the line to feel their joy.

Sometimes, however much we try, there is a certain degree of naiveté, we take around with us, despite our age. Be it a never dying desire to collect Archie comics or Asterix, or a never-ending craving for chocolate, the roots of which can be traced back to our infancies; these comfort habits have always had a calming effect on us.  You still prefer the old worn out pillow and the blanket. You do not want to let go of the beanbag that has been there ever since your birth.

Sometimes, people tend to think that burning the bridges and letting go of your real self in order to fit yourself into a pre-designed mould, is a sign of maturity. ‘prim and proper’ does not necessarily mean that you cannot scoop out the remains of marshmallows in your cup of hot chocolate. Elegance does not always mean well-tailored suits and perfect make-up. With elegance comes the strength to be what you are, and love the things that made you what you are today. Kicking the ladder once you are on top may be a harder way of putting it. Yet, if you ever have to come tumbling to the ground, there needs to be something to remind you of your strength and capabilities ; it is not only the people around you, but also the things that you grew up with and the activities you did and the habits you developed that in return, developed you to be responsible adult. A past cannot come to your rescue, if you have already dumped it in the litter-bin.

As for me, I still have the rain!

The year that dawns

The final leaf of the calendar sways in the cold December winds. Some of the older leaves that went to the bin at the end of the respective months, had smiley faces scribbled on them; there were also stars, hearts and sometimes a few faces with downward curves as mouths.  A few more days to go, and a new calendar to scribble a new story-those were my thoughts when I carried the heavy bundle of calendars home in a crowded bus.

The year has left me with many things; yet it took a few things away. Perhaps, arrivals and departures do balance out life and contribute to one’s maturity. Every trouble that waylays leaves something with you, rather than robbing you of something precious. When times go by you realize that people are subject to change; not only their complexions, fashion sense but also their loyalties shift with time. after a hard wait, you realize that a single incident cannot change your life forever, but an incident can lead to a chain of events that will make you end up in a different track. Those who yearn for change should not be like those who are waiting to witness a miracle; rather, they should be the performers of the miracle; or the miracle itself.  The year that is passing, has taught us many things. There were lessons that I learnt the hard way, battles I have won, friends I have made and a tinge of change I could be able to make. Yet, there is much that is left undone.

I wish the new year could teach me how to treat those who talk behind my back, with a sense of dignity.  I hope it will discourage me to fight back and encourage me to smile when the world forgets to relax. I hope the time ahead will make me realize how to be diplomatic and keep my cool when I am in the hot waters.

 I wish it would also teach me to be more demonstrative and expressive. I hope  I will learn the art of looking  more human and less stony in the days to come. I want it to bring me closer to my adventure, a life I build for myself that  has many doors and windows that does not suppress the winds of time.

I wish the new year could teach me how to keep a straight face when I know the others are lying. I want to be punctual and be more organized when it comes to the boundaries between my worktable and study table.

I wish the new year makes me think more about my health, and urge me to treat my dark circles. I wish my craving for green-tea becomes an innocent addiction and my love for green vegetables more than a fling.

I wish the new year gives me enough days to realize whether I am a revolutionist and whether my idealism has a limit. I need to see the border where I should stop dreaming and start working if I need a proper rest.

Despite all the changes, I wish the world keeps loving me the same way I love it and its people.

Giving is all about loving

They say Christmas is a time for giving, sharing and show others we care.  I kept wondering why only Christmas and why not every day, every minute and every second when someone comes asking for something; or when we know someone is out there anticipating something. How often we get swept away by the currents of media stunts and cheap market strategies that thinking about others has to come with a price tag.

Perhaps, those who get blinded by such campaigns forget that, there are many things in life one cannot buy for money; however much hackneyed it may sound, they are in deed more precious than every buyable item one can find on earth.

Christmas is time to think about those who helped you stand on your feet. Even if you keep thinking about them through out the year, it is time you let them know that they are constantly in your thoughts. It is about renewing ties.

Christmas is the time you make an effort to feel the hardships faced by others. It is time you try your level best to change their lives for a day when you are unable to do it forever. Christmas is being happy, knowing that you have contributed to the happiness of others.

Christmas is the time you think about the air you breathe, the cool breeze that touches your skin and the trees that shed old leaves to get new ones. It is time you say your prayer for their survival. Christmas is about being sensitive to the silent agonies of those who have no voices to expresses themselves. This includes the air that gets violated with every tiny ‘sili-sili bag’ you burn and the soil that cries at every plastic cup you dump. As we have been often taught, your obligations are not only towards the mankind; but also towards the nature that assures the existence of the humans.

Christmas makes you realize that giving is another name for love; it was what Jesus showed through his actions. He gave himself for the betterment of the man thus spreading his love in the hearts of others who in return were bound to love the world. Sadly, little does one realize that letting festivities take precedence and thereby forgetting the true meaning of Christmas is far from loving the world.