My Little Yellow Flower.

My little yellow flower.

Yes, this is the name I give you.

The flower of the Cactus.

The day I first discovered you, the immense joy you gave.

That broken pot , at the corner of my terrace.

Left behind by the previous owner.

I could have thrown you away.

But I left you there,  unattended, uncared.

And one day you gifted me this.

The days were broken. The days were gloomy.

And you appeared with your bright shinning smile.

As if a gift from the God.

Saying, you exist.

Saying,  you are loved.

Saying, you will live.

Saying, we care.

From then, each morning, I wait eagerly for your gift.

I find myself beside you each morning, looking at you with that hope of joy in my heart.

One day, very soon, I known you will be exhausted.

You will want to sleep again.

But I have captured every moment with you.

You shall remain in my heart for ever.

You came in that difficult time, when everyone leaves.

I shall wait for you the next season.

Come soon, my dear little yellow flower.

The Story Of the Eldest Son.

Let me tell you a story.
The story of an eldest son.
The story of an eldest brother.

There was a family. Parents and fourteen siblings. Was? why? Because the parents are no more and only five of the siblings remain. Rule of Nature you see. But their stories remain. Through their children. And I am one among them here to tell a story.

Never was a birth so much celebrated as was the birth of the eldest son. A boy, you say, patriarchal society. But I say a boy who was meant to be sacrificed in the alter of family responsibilities right from his birth.

When he was only seventeen he was made to leave his studies to join work to support the huge family. Night studies? Yes, that was the plan,too much to take for a youngster. At that age he was helping his father ,financially, in getting his elder sister married.

But then the father died. Leaving the whole family on the shoulders of this young boy. He was only eighteen. And he played a father well. Rather strictly. Much needed for a brother with still five unmarried sisters. No one should dare to think them unprotected. No one should try to take advantage.

He had two other brothers too. One only one year younger. And the other a few more years. What did they do? Didn't they help too? What's their contribution to this family? Well one made himself available all the time, no doubt ,but with minimum financial help. The younger one helped to entertain the whole family,with his jokes stories, always the closest among sisters, but not a single rupee as help.

Do you think the family was thankful to the eldest son? For all the sacrifices he made. For all the sleepless nights he spent. No. These were his responsibilities. He was meant to do so. He was brought to this world to do so. He was no God. He too lost his cool. And they remembered that forgetting all other things.

There here comes the shocker. The father left a house and some valuable brass utensils they had in their possession. The eldest son could have sold all to finance the marriage of his sisters. But he thought of his brothers you see. Only to be cheated by them. These two younger brothers of him,silently, sold the house,distributed the utensils among themselves. A good return. Isn't it!! Surprised you must be. But life is that cruel you see.

And time passed.
All were well settled.
It was time for him to be happy.
With his grandson playing around his feet.
But God designed him differently.
He left this world.
Everyone cried a lot you know.
But sure some were fake cries.
They dried too soon.
Five years past in between.
They still remember him they say.
But she doubts that.
Who is she?
His daughter.
The daughter of the eldest son.

She tries to forget everything. Even the death anniversary of her father. Her father believed in celebrating life.  But her heart burns. She hides herself in the corner to cry her heart out. She remembers the last time she saw her father fine.

- Have you forgiven them? She asked.
- Yes. Her father answered.
- Do you have peace in your mind?
- Yes, at last. He said.

He died in peace.
And that is all that matters.
- They are with you,grandma ,grandfather. She thinks.
- Take good care of him now. Not because he is your eldest son. But because he is your child.

A Thought.

Came upon this question a few days ago.

If we take away lust\ sex from a relationship, will it last long?

Difficult question, isn't it.

When young we have an answer, as we grow old we have a different one.

I remember, while we were staying in the university hostel, often our topic of discussion would be marriage. Arranged or love,there was no concept of having sex before marriage then. So how do we know,the person we are marrying is impotent or not? We questioned, but we feared to imagine the situation. Marriage meant sex,child bearing,what else?  What would have happened if life went  differently.

A friend once said a  story. The husband was unable. Treated, tried, but failed. The wife with all her care stayed by his side. Why? Because of love? Pity? The wife had no support system! Or divorce was not a norm! Difficult, isn't it. So many times the girl is unable to speak her plight.

After marriage, we all enjoy initially, unless it turns into a painful experience. For women it may ebb after child birth or its responsibility, but what with men? Once a friend said,I remember, just shut your eyes and bear.or else husband may be in the search of an alternative. But that is rape, isn't it?

With an history of breast cancer in the family ,often thought,what would happen, if I have one,if I lose one or both breasts? Will husband sympathize or expect me to be dead or silently search an alternative!

With age its different. Sex decreases, responsibility takes the place. Don't remember, read a quote of a famous writer,true love occurs when sex ends. May be. A young boy answered brilliantly. Doubt how many marriages would have existed if there were no children involved! How true. So we see so many elderly people searching for a love life outside the marriage.

Love is something. Of course it brings sex with it. Platonic love may exist but rarely.  And then there is family, responsibility, all different from each other.

A Dark Night.

She doesn't have a long life.
Rini knows that.
Her life line says that.
You may say it is nothing but superstition.
May be or may be not.
Who knows the ways of life.
They say you carry your fate with the lines of your left hand. They are from your birth.
And your right hand is your karma hand.
You build your own fate.
Life line in both her hands show a sudden end. And that too not so late in life.
May be a 60.
How will  I die?
Rini thinks.
A heart attack?
May be.
Her heart aches a lot these days.
Her heart may be weak, she thinks.
From her mother perhaps.
But never mind.
But she wants a satisfactory end.
An end without any grudge against anybody.
Hardly possible?
She knows she won't be able to forgive everyone before her death. She doesn't want to.
The relatives those caused pain to her father.
The father who sacrificed a lot for the family. But return?
Can you forgive you father-in-law? The man who mouthed the most nasty words about her mother. But he is in heaven or elsewhere.
Your husband? Who repeated every word after his father and then......
But perhaps he has returned more to her.
But what about this person, who came in her life all of a sudden, uninvited, unwanted.
At nearly the end of her life.
Who through his words aroused a hundred emotions within her.
Who uttered the words with that honestly which she thought no one before that did.
He made her cross the boundary which she always thought was criminal.
Who made her give the things she could hardly imagine.
And then he made her show his different face. A not so faithful face.
While she shuddered in pain he relaxed, he laughed with his new friends.
Never thought once what was going through her.
She poured her heart but he never looked back.
A cold hearted selfish man.
You can say, how foolish of her, at this old age.
I also think, how foolish she is, she deserves this end. An unfaithful woman, deserves such end. A pain in her heart till last.
But once in her life she wanted to curse.
She wanted to say, you too will suffer.
Much more than me.
You too will be in immense pain.
No one to look after.
No one to care for you.
Money can not buy everything.
You took will crave, with no one to love you back. I may not be there to see your pain, no one to realise, but remember me then, that I cursed you.
For playing with my innocent heart.
There is no hell, no heaven.
What we do we pay for it in this life.
If I am paying with my pain you too will suffer many times more to bring her in this path only to leave me in this darkness.
As you suffer, remember my name.
That I have cursed you.
Rini stood staring in the darkness.

Baba, to you.

Baba,

You shouldn't have left me alone in this world.

You should have lived.

Lived for me,  for me alone,  a few more years.

People stopped caring after you went.

Once the near ones stopped asking how I am.

They say a lot.

They say you never cared.

They say you thought me worthless,  useless.

That's why you gave me up so soon.

Is that true baba?

You just got rid of me?

You never believed I could do anything else with my life?

Did I disappoint you?

But you know I am disappointed with myself .

This is not the me that I dreamt of.

I too wanted to fulfill your dreams , to be an independent lady,  only if you were by my side.

You know baba,  there are so many things I never let you know.

You asked me,  but I never said.

I never wanted to make you sad.

Is that not my strength?

Is that my weakness?

They say because I lack the mental strength.

Baba you know now I lack the physical strength too.

I am fading too soon.

My days may be numbered.

But before that I want to see my children happy.

Then one day ,  just as olden days , we will sit face to face.

With many untold stories to tell.

With many questions that are yet to be asked.

With many answers that I am yet to receive.

And with a cup of tea in our hands perhaps.

Just like some good old days.

The abode of peace.

That was the prayer hall of the Golden Temple of Coorg.
Yes,  that is the name it is commonly known as.
Actually its the Namdroling Monastery. The largest teaching centre of Tibetan Buddhism in the world,  they say.

Had no idea where we were heading.
But as soon as we reached the gate and I saw the monks I knew this was that place I wanted to visit.
Have read about the Place previously in a blog and my interest for this Place comes from there.
That's the picture of Dalai Lama at the centre.
It has a very beautiful neat and clean garden with many flowers.

This is a fresco on the wall of the monastery. Not just one. The walls are covered with these beautiful paintings.

The students in the prayer hall.

They said there are 4000 thousand of them. Staying and studying absolutely free of cost. 

Fortunately , we could see the prayers

 It was a sight. So many of them humming the prayer from a booklet. Said it will continue for long that day with juice being served at the middle by another group of students, ( even thirsty we had a glass).

Unfortunately,  we could not enter the main prayer hall.

We sat at the long corridor.

There were so many of us, but still it seemed so peaceful.

We said all own prayers. 

Was it heard!

I am sure it was.

A gate. See the beauty in it! 

The front view.

It can be the hostel or the office. Seen some shops with mementos.

Sure, there are many monasteries and you have been there. But this is my first visit and it left me mesmerized and with a peaceful feeling, the thing I was looking for.

Try and visit if you can.

Sure, you will love it.

Don't cry my girl.

The day I held your brother for the first time in my arms ,I knew what love is.

I knew what it is to live for someone ,to die for someone. The true meaning of my existence. Someone ,my very own, my flesh and blood.

The day I saw you for the first time in the nursing home, I knew I must live. I must live for you my girl. A girl needs her mother the most, I believed always.

Every time you cry my heart breaks into pieces my girl. God is kind, they say. Is this kindness? Is this Justice? We don't deserve the pain. We never did any wrong, to anyone.

Sleep has left me. I toss in my bed. I know you are awake beside, tossing in the bed. Did we ever dream of this day? All dreams, your dream , all shuttered.

Patience, they say.
Be brave ,they say.
Silly, they say.
Its nothing ,they say.
Everything will be right, they say.
You are being foolish, sentimental ,they say.
I am. All for you.
When you smile, I smile.
You cry, I cry.
You are happy, I am the happiest.

Be kind God.
Once again shower your blessings.
Be by our side in this hour of crisis, as you have done many a times in the past.
Give us strength to bear all.

Silent Prayers.

It was Shivratri.
Shiv, the destroyer, the preserver is worshipped on this day.

Rini was never a religious minded person. May be its because of the way she was brought up by her father. He believed in serving humans, of flesh and blood, rather than worshipping stone idols, so did Rini.

But there are many a fascinating stories of Shiva. And she knew them, loved them, even loved to imagine Shiva as a warrior prince as depicted by a well known writer.

They say young girls worship Shiva for a husband  like him? A husband like him? A man on ganja, begging? Or a man as powerful, a man who loved his wife? Who knows? But Rini never did.

Today ,as an aged lady ,she read a totally different reason behind the worship of Shiva. Mukti, of the soul, inner peace.
Didn't she deserve it?
Peace at least?
Like everyone, she too dreamt a little.
Some she had ,some she didn't.
Always thought the things she could not achieve weighed much more than the things she did.
But today its not the materials things she asks for but the peace.
Did she ever harm anybody?
Did she ever think ill  of any?
Did she not bear enough pain all through her life?
Enough negligence.
Enough insults.
But she cursed not.
The only thing she had lost all through this journey of life was her temper. She lost it often, may be at the drop of a hat, she screamed, she complained and then she forgot. But she still cared. She still loved. Perhaps people could never see that in her.
Then why this pain?
This tremendous heart ache?
In the loneliness of the dark night.
She thought ,standing in the darkness of her tiny balcony.

Why did people love to hurt her so often? She had no answer. Is that because she cared so much? She loved may be a little too much. She loved to trust them. She thought them her own. And what did she get  in return?

One day this pain of hers will take her life for sure. And no one will ever know.

After ages perhaps ,today she went to the temple. She was very young when her neighbour, friend and a Didi too ,used to take her to the mandir on this day. Everyone worshipped and she stood watching. And today when her next door neighbour ,the lady, came asking ,she refused initially, only with that urge to go to the temple, all in search of peace. She could not do the darshan, too crowded to find the Lord there, returned with the prasad. But among that maddening crowd she was able to forget some pain of hers,for some moments at least. And now is the time for her prayers.

Lord Shiva, she prayed, standing in the darkness, give me some peace if you can.
If I deserve. Mistakes, I made for sure.
But are they so great that I deserve such pain. Tears came running down her cheeks. She prayed, as a mother ,as a wife, have some mercy on me O Lord. Let me forget all the moments of  pain. Let me live again for them. Have some mercy on this poor creature of yours just for once. Help me preserve your gifts with all my heart. Help me to forget all the others. Shower your blessings on my near ones, make me live happily only for my family, my children.

A Heaven on Earth - The Story of a village.

Let me tell you the story of the most beautiful village that I chanced upon.

But I must admit I have not seen many a village. Though the place I grew up is described by the city dwellers as a village,but its actually an industrial town. Even after marriage I live in places many describe as village. But they are not the traditional villages. The picture that comes to our mind when we say village is quite different and I think I am fortunate enough to see one such among many.

It so happened while we were returning from The Limestone Cave in the Baratang Island of the Andaman Islands the young guide, the boatman realised its becoming a little tough for me to walk such a long stretch through the ups and downs of the forest. So he decided to take me through a short route, in silence, no one must know or else they might follow and break the silence and peace of the village. And I thought I was the lucky one,the chosen one .

That's our guide leading me through the village. The beautiful bamboo fences of the gardens and we making our way through them.

A closure look at the fence.

And now the house. We call them the hut. Beautiful with its thatched roof, mud walls or of bamboo strips. Perhaps not much space inside. Simple people living with minimum needs. Cloths drying in the courtyard. And betel nuts   drying in the sun. Two men were sitting outside ,doing some work,as I passed through.

A closure look into the hut and you will realise they are not even that strong. A strong wind and they can just be blown away.

Perhaps a small family stays here. A father ,mother,children,may be, and some old people. The population of this village is very less with only a few houses. Life is simple but not easy. Means of communication is only boat as it is surrounded on all sides by water and as the guide said,he had seen crocodiles basking in the sun in the paddy field. God bless me, did not meet one of them on my way, or else I would have made a great lunch for them.

This beautiful place will always remain in my heart for ever. A piece of heaven on earth. Perhaps the abode of God. Surrounded by Nature's gift. And when my body and soul is tired I would wish to rest here a bit.

Our Country Mourns.

Today is an extremely sad day in the history of our country. 42 CRPF personals were killed in the worst ever terrorist attack in the Pulwara district of Jammu and Kashmir.

Our country has passed through many sad phases and this is perhaps one in recent times. Few months back there was another attack on the military personals in the place named Uri of J&k, which our country retaliated with a surgical strike. We all thought this would be fruitful, there would be no more terrorist attacks, no people would die in the hands of terrorists.But we were so wrong.

What has become of our heaven, Jammu and Kashmir, J&K, the most beautiful place in our country! I visited with my father when I was so young. Had a wish to show this piece of heaven on Earth to my children. But it seems this will remain a dream.

And the thing which bothers me the most is the battle of words going on after this. Our country ,it seems, is divided between two groups of people. Some want immediate revenge, an attack on our neighboring country, once our part, and some want a diplomatic solution. I am among the second group of people.

 Does this make me less patriot?
 Does this make me a coward?

No, only that I care for the men of our armed forces. May be having  a son is the reason behind my softness. I don't want any one to die for us. They are our sons or husband or father of others. The don't deserve to be killed for the foolishness of our political leaders. Enough blood has already been spilt. Enough horror stories we have heard during our Kargil war. We can bear it no more. We can't afford to lose our sons anymore. Lecturing and declaring war with our mobile in hand is too easy a task. How can we even imagine what goes on in the mind of a soldier in the battle field?

I had my relatives in the air force, heard stories which no one would believe.
Once while travelling in a train with a soldier as a friendly passenger in my front seat, heard many a stories. No, it is not patriotism which drives these men to join army but its a job to maintain their families and they want to live, not die in the battlefield.

We call them Martyrs. We talk about their sacrifices. Are we hiding our incompetence behind the word Martyr? They are victims of a terror attack. And we must find out how and where we failed our soldiers. But logically. When our rages subsides.

Till then let us wait. Let us mourn our soldiers. Let us pay our tributes. Let us console the bereaved families.

And then let us strengthen ourselves.
Let us find our lapses.
Let us promise that we will not let any of our boys die this way.

" What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr' s cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet. No wrongs ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero,and an uncontrolled or uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness , not the voice of people."
Robert Kennedy.

Life, full of thorns.

Beautiful ,isn't it ! But full of thorns.
Just like life. Beautiful but full of hurdles.
We love to see the it, love to keep it in our home, love to touch it, feel it at times and it may leave you bleeding, painful can be  that experience of yours.

No ,this is not my home.
I found this in the verandah of a beautiful hotel, a hotel in the form of small cottages, had a lovely restaurant where we had a lovely lunch and a lovely garden and then in the middle of that long verandah this cactus.
Do you want to see the garden?

A big papaya plantation. How surprised we were! It looked so beautiful. And the trees were so short. Just stretch your hand and you can get a papaya. But you won't for sure. There was a board hanging. If you get caught for each papaya you will be fined ₹500. Funny, isn't it. Too much a risk for a papaya. And of course they were not personal consumption, must be for business.

And there were other flower plants too, but my eyes were stuck on first this papaya garden and then this cactus plant. Life , they represented. Vibrant, colourful, on one side, painful, full of sorrow and unending sufferings on the other. Happiness on one side, which can just vanish into the thin air.b

Twitter here ,you can say, represents life to certain extent. The joy it can give, meeting different people, experiences and the sorrow of being judged continuously. Backstabbing. Friendship with a purpose and so on and on.

 But actually you should not complain. In real life or here. It may be just your shortcoming , to identify the real person behind the mask.

So don't complain about life. In spite of its thorns , life is beautiful. It comes to us just once so let us enjoy the beauty of the flower saving ourselves from its thorns.

A Day In The Life Of Rini.

"What have you achieved in your life? Anything? You are nothing but a failure."

As if the words were still echoing in the air. Rini sat at the corner of her room,a cup of tea in her hand, already cold, the words still ringing in her mind. Innumerable times she has heard them, they have but little impact on her anymore. But still she thinks sometimes ,are the words right! She has done nothing in this life! Achieved nothing!

She is not the one who listens mutely though. But answers at times.
"My greatest achievement is staying with you this long," she lashes out, " have maintained the family which could have been broken long back."  She continues," I don't earn money but I have earned the family with my patience and hard work, may be not always physically but mentally."

Am I right in thinking so? Rini thought. Have I burnt myself out completely through this journey of mine, adjusting myself constantly, fighting crazily at times. Did the dreams I  had once all fade away , turned into ashes in this fire?

Or are they just excuses? As some say, you haven't tried enough, you gave up too early, you are lazy ,used to an easy life. Easy life? Looks like. But we all have our struggles. Looks simply from that side of the river, Rini says in defending herself. But some even struggle more, they say, you get everything, you complain more. Rini laughs silently. Hardly can she say everything.

Its eleven in the morning. Rini gets up hurriedly. Need to prepare lunch, special for the girl. If only some day the girl becomes one she always wanted to be ,independent ,happy, upright, she will get her payment from life, her achievement. Till then she will not stop hoping.

But now she must run into the kitchen.

The Part 2 of my December tour.- A picture story.

A little late. But let me say about the second day of my visit to the Andaman Islands and the most fascinating part of my journey.

The Baratang Island.

We started from our hotel at 5.30 in the morning and it was a long long drive through villages , 45km through the forest. And here let me say permit is needed , a row of cars start their journey,  no stepping down, no stopping in the middle,  no taking any photos. Here ,  in the jungle lives the Jarawa tribal community,  with their bows and arrows and spears. Previously they remained completely naked but now some of them are learning to dress a little and the children are even picking up hindi. You can google to see their pics as we are not allowed to take any or give them anything,  mainly food, but let me say,  we gave our tiffin to the children silently when the police were not watching , yes,  we all were escorted by the forest guards.

Then we had to take a launch and then a speed boat which speeded through the mangrove forest to take us to a forest area. And from there a long walk of 2 kms through the ups and downs of the forest to reach the LimeStone cave. First time for me. The wonders of the world.

The mangrove forest.

Through the jungle.

We are entering the Lime stone cave.

And this is the cave. Absolute darkness. Our guide shows us light. Its slippery ,its salty by taste ,though you are not allowed to touch, but its too great a temptation. Guide said previously it was about 100 metres long but now only 40% is visible, the rest has been eaten up ,its the guides language, no more visible, the path is closed.

Look at the shapes. They take different shapes and our guide keeps telling us .

And this! Wonderful ,isn't it. Fascinating!

And the little rays of light that enters. 

My return journey was no less beautiful.

But some other day.

A mother's letter.

My dear  girl,
                         You birthday has just passed. Your 16th birthday. How time flies. It seems just like yesterday. On a cold afternoon of January I was admitted to the hospital and you arrived three weeks before the scheduled time. The tiny you. So small and thin that I could hold you in my palm. You hardly had any voice and I remember one day ,among my seven days hospital stay,I became so anxious just because you wouldn't cry ,I could not feed you, and then when the doctor hit you hard on your toes to wake you up I was a bit upset with him. That's how mothers are. And on those days ,as I stared at your tiny frame I knew I will have to live, live long just for you. Not even for your brother ,but for you, anyhow, somehow ,because I always feel a girl needs a mother more than a boy needs her. And now I realise a daughter completes a mother, a family ,as a sister her brother.
                You have changed a lot in the recent years. If something has not changed its your fragile health, your thin structure. You loved to play ,was not that naughty or talkative but loved friends. And you had many of them, from your age to younger ones,you always mixed easily. Can I call it a teenager problem or blame the place we are staying now ,you are becoming an introvert, you love spending time to yourself with your mobile and your family around you.
                      Earlier you always wanted a party on your birthday,and we had one until we were transferred to this place. You loved to go to school in your best fancy cloth, loved a little show off, distributed toffees among friends ,but this time you preferred your school uniform ,no toffees , not even to our neighbours but satisfied with wishes from your friends and a very private family dinner.
                        I wish you to grow up into a fine ,strong and independent lady. I wish you to be successful in life. I wish you to be everything that I wanted and could not attain. I wish you to be brave enough to fight back every odds of life ,to face every challenges of life bravely. I wish you to be a kind person ,a true human being, having all the values of life. These are my little prayers.
                

My winter holiday - Part 1

As I said earlier everything that ends well seems perfect. All through the year I have been through many ups and downs, many because of my own faults but the last 10 days of the year 2018 turned out to be fabulous.
And that is mainly because of our trip to the Andaman Islands.

We were trying this tour for a long time but something or the other were coming our way. But at last we made it.

It was a six day tour and we reached the Port Blair airport at 9 in the morning. The 1st thing that jolted us was the absence of net connection. Another thing, we did not see any newspaper throughout our stay. Truly an island. The sun was strong and there was no chill even in these last days of December.

But all our initial surprises were washed away as we stood in the small beach in the evening with lots and lots of people around. What a picturesque view it was. My words are not enough to description. See for yourself.

The cloudy sky, the reflection on the water, a perfect setting.

Lots of people around. Young people with their fashionable cloths playing around.

The lines of coconut trees all around.

And even our favorite evening snacks is present. Can you see the man selling  jhalmuri.

The bamboo bridge. Basher sako,we call it.

And we return to our hotel fully satisfied, looking forward to some heart moments in the coming six days.