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.