Seeking warmth...

...in cold surroundings. Sore throat. Body aches. It's raining outside. Dr. Zhivago is still in mind. I feel as if I'm in Moscow during the russian revolution and it's snowing outside the window. The world is damp and cold and brutal. Writing, scribbling out all thoughts brings warmth to my heart. As these words roll out, the stone cold inside begins to melt. Something begins to flow somewhere. Unbridled.

Rituals are sickening as far as I'm concerned, but sometimes they're comforting too. When the would-be mother is into her 8th month of pregnancy, she's given a ceremonial worship. Relatives and friends, mostly women, are invited and they apply turmeric on the girl's cheeks and vermillion on her forehead--a sign of a household woman. They offer her rice and gifts, wish her a safe and happy delivery and bless her. While most of us could be ignorant about the deeper meaning and importance of such rituals, this certainly has positive psychological effects. Archana must be feeling comforted, especially after all these months of pain and uneasiness. Pampered, reassured...

My opinion regarding gays changed a bit after Philadelphia. Homosexuality was always thought of as a kind of perversion, arising out of sex-deprivation. We would read and hear stories of people turning gay in situations like war, prison or monasteries-churches where normal intimacy was either impossible or forbidden. Once I ran into a priest who stroked my arms with a show of affection and his touch was anything but affectionate. Philadelphia made me think of the possibility that Gays-Lesbians could be normal people with a different taste or attitude. Gayness arising out of sex-deprivation may be perverse but there could also be people out there who are otherwise normal except that they have an affection for members of the same sex.

Vikram seth's interview in Outlook and this memoir in Tehelka are interesting views on this subject. Spiritually, I'm not sure whether this is due to some karma or if these people are just like anyone else. I'm yet to find out.

All said and done, I don't know how I'll react if a friend of mine confesses tomorrow that he's gay. Will I treat him like I treat my other straight friends? I'm yet to grow into this kind of liberal mind-set.

Wavy movements on her belly. It's as if a group of kids are rolling all over one another, inside there.

'My friend once complained to her doctor that she feels as if there's an octopus in her womb'.

'What did the doctor say?'

'That the kid has two elbows, two palms,two knees and two feet. Also a head. When he stretches and turns and rolls around, what else are you supposed to feel like?'

A kid inside the womb can communicate to God, I understand. What could this one be talking now? Does anyone remember that experience later--either of lying crouched in a dark, constricted place, submerged in a sticky fluid. Or of talking and listening to the Supreme Intelligence?

If we remember would we remain the same? Do the mystics who achieve enlightenment remember this experience?