Non-human friends...

The latest dog is Somu. Lazy fellow, just curls up, comes running for food, starts dancing when we come home after a gap of a few hours, wags his tail two times if we say, 'Eno somu?'. (I guess, he got his name from the dog Sridevi adopts in the movie 'Sadma', who was also called Somu). Has become a nasty old fart off late, ganging up with other dogs and barking viciously at anything that moves.

Thunder! !!! The heroic fighter who killed 2 snakes before succumbing in the third fight. Lovely yet scary fellow.

 Then....a street mongrel at Manasa, who would promptly visit us at food hours. Would understand and respond when we spoke to him. He had tears the day we moved out.

 Then the pet which my Sister had, 'Hershey'. Saw him just once. He was so much a part of their family.

 Two decades ago... 'Dolly' and her little breed of pups. Her small pup 'pluppy', who made us bleed with immense grief. Still remember that lovely innocent eyes, oozing warmth and love.

 Then tommy....the owner's dog in our rented house. When we moved to our new house, this guy ran behind us for nearly 5 kms and stayed with us. Would do a to and fro from our place and the owner's place everyday.

 And the one in this pic....my oldest pet in my native village. Have a very hazy memory of running off with him to drive away a calf which was grazing near my granny's newly built house, only to be admonished and driven away by the calf's owner. The way I'm holding his back...he must've been a dear friend.

 If you think back and remember all the faces that enriched your life, made you smile, gave you joy, taught you things...just made your life richer by their mere presence, these faces stand out along with the human ones. Sometimes, more prominently than the humans.

A dream comminity...

Last night I was in a dream.

It's a small middle-class urban community living next to a sea-shore, and I'm a part of it. The kids are asleep as it is 2 past midnight but most grownups are awake, indulged in one activity or the other. There are several families around coming from diverse backgrounds but we all feel like one big joint family! The love, bonding and relationship between us is absolutely real and genuine--nothing to fake.

I see archana sitting with the ladies and drawing rangolis - maybe it's a festive day tomorrow - and placing radiant earthen lamps at strategic points on the design. It could be a mandala she's designing as a part of some sacred consecration. I enter a big hall and see my mom involved in some banter with several eldery ladies. There's much laughter and joy over there. A friend calls out, inviting me for a midnight stroll along the beach which is shining in the moon light...there are othere friends as well who're already waiting. I tell them to move on because a new family has arrived and I want to be introduced to them.

It's a small family -husband, wife, kid. We introduce ourselves, the rules regulations dos donts are explained but it's all fun nothing rigid or strict. A good part of the community is over there, everyone's a friend to everyone but there's something in the air that's almost palpable, something you can almost touch and feel.

 And that is... a beautiful sense of well-being, joy, love and affection. Deeply experienced feeling of oneness between all of us, something like as if we all are a part of one gaint organism. Zero negativity - a literal heaven on earth!

Who doesn't want to be a part of such  a community!!!

Family time...

Off late, I've been enjoying small sessions of drawing room discussions with my family members. And it's turning out into such a soft, soothing and pampering experience -- something totally novel and magnetic -- that we all automatically gravitate towards the drawing room at the slightest pretext. If I'm half-asleep in my room and I sense folks on the sofa...sorry, bye-bye sleep. Second sister would've finished her work upstairs and come down. Mom will be reading some book or newspaper. If Dad's around, he quietly arrives and occupies a chair. Archana struts in and out of the kitchen -- kinda breaking the rythm of the 'mahoul' but also keeping it dynamic. A kid or two here and there. And if elder sister has come down from chennai, it's icing on the cake.

Now what do we discuss? Everything and nothing. Maybe a hot political debate.  Some event in the layout. An illness of a relative. Some meaty gossip in between. An important decision to be taken. A small blame game. Review of a decision gone wrong. What next? kind of topics. Events from the past. Plans for the future.....honestly, anything under the Sun. Many times, just enjoying the presence of each other in silence as hot tea gets served around to the background music of lashing rains.

The magical, other-worldly feeling I experience in the cosy comfort of my family's presence in that small drawing room....I wouldn't trade it for anything. We continue to sit, extending the time by a few more minutes. Nobody wants to get up. Loud laughters, tears at times. Hearts open up slowly. Gentle healing of long past emotions. There's magic in the air.

Family is such a precious thing, yet we take it for granted (I have). Kids grow up fast and fly to distant shores, pursuing education and employment. Bigger units slowly fritter into far-flung nuclear families. People move on. It's a gift and blessing to come together and enjoy the shared history and future in these rare moments. And I'm absolutely loving this growing bonding with my family.

It's an extrovert's world out there...

...and introverts have a tough time coping up. People love a social butterfly, and view with suspicion someone who struts around unsure. Loners arent tolerated...and are marked for reforming 😁.

I've struggled with this all through my life, teenage onwards. Unable to move around and find my place. Being pushed around to 'open up', be more social and friendly, not to shy-up....and not knowing how the fuck to do all of this. Chided for not having many friends and being with myself. Struggling severely to become more outgoing, and losing the plot. Taking stupid horrendous decisions and losing years of my life. Boy it's been hellish.

Introverts, I came to learn later, process energy differently. They are recharged in solitude and aloneness. They enjoy the company of friends and close relatives but too much of social interaction drains them, pushing them to seek solitude again. I loved such solitude. Books opened up whole new worlds for me. Music soothed. Thinking and contemplation. Meditation. Solitary, long walks. And writing! Finding my voice through creative writing, and absolutely loving it. And severely hated and detested all attempts to reform me into a socially active bumblebee.

Extroverts are charged up in the company of people. But put them alone in a room, with books or music or nothing...and they go mad after a while. They need others, they need drama for energy exchange and survival. Try telling an extrovert, "why don't you be more alone and reflective? Why always restless for others' company? Why can't you be more introverted? 😀😁😂"

There's another breed of humans...a rare and lucky group-- the middleverts. They seem to enjoy the best of both worlds--intro and extroversion--moving with ease into either situations as needed. Opening up with selected groups of friends and acquaintances, and retreating into solitude when needed. Having skills to navigate socially, and also traversing the inner worlds. My kid fits in here, so do many kids I know, and many lovely adults.

This is the place a 'reforming'(?) extrovert or introvert may arrive at...but trust me, they arrive when left to themselves, and never by being pushed around. Like sexual orientation, like being a left hander, introversion is an inbuilt trait which you cant mess around with. Accept an introvert THE WAY SHE IS without trying nobly to lift her up..... make her feel comfortable in who she is...and watch her blossom beautifully in unknown ways. And gentle nudges, pointing towards things that help, and making them aware of the social consequences and rewards for different kinds of behaviour....these go a long way in helping someone avoid the dark places of introversion (social awkwardness, loneliness, depression), and extroversion (bullying, arrogance, interfering).

And absolute non-judgemental love! I received it from one lovely person, and in exchange lost a huge chunk of pain and hesitation in a short time. Strutted and stumbled in front of him and got in response a gentle knowing soothing smile. Have tried to follow his footsteps ever since. God bless His soul wherever He is.

So what do you do when you come across an introvert, and get an urge to improve them? If you have the presence, expansion, and capacity to hold space for another soul...do nothing. Your non-judgemental presence alone will soothe his hassled nerves.

Else...just keep quiet and leave them alone! They're just fine. ....it's you and your reformative urge that need counselling and help.

 Last october, we were looking back at the year gone by and sighing at the major events, wondering at the two whirlwinds that hit us, and thanking the lucky stars and guardian angels. Little did we know what was about to arrive. Two months at the year-end have been the most interesting and awesome months I've seen my entire life (Okay...there have been other awesome/ful months as well :* ). What everyone passed through and came out from is still bloody unbelievable! Did it really happen? Am I still alive and scribbling all of this? And what else is in store in this year?

One morning...

I love this weather. Gentle drizzle that splatters for hours on end. A mild chilly wind blowing in, carrying a hint of moisture. Look out and you see an expanse of mist slowly descend on the distant trees. Gray clouds. Fresh morning that promises to remain all day.

Ran Prieur summarized it beautifully...say a year ago

....and I posted it on social media. And also scribbled it somewhere, but it's too precious, too important, not to make a note of, here, in my blog. So here it goes...

An accomplished guitar player says

To master any truly difficult skill it's not enough to just want it; you have to be obsessed. If you have to force yourself to pick it up you're screwed; if you have to force yourself to put it down you know you're on the right track.

You told me that the only thing you've ever had to force yourself to stop was video games. Ask yourself: why exactly are video games so addictive? Of course it's because of the constant reward system. Every thirty seconds you get a reward of some kind. The next question is: how can I duplicate this experience in other areas?

When I was learning to play, I always broke any challenge down into it's smallest possible chunks. And these chunks were easy to accomplish and showed immediate results.

By doing it this way, I was creating a lot of very small, quick successes for myself. If you set yourself a goal and you succeed in just a few minutes, the flush of success releases endorphins in the brain. If you continue to duplicate that experience every few minutes you get addicted to practicing.

And I have consistently found that students who listen to me and practice as I described above will progress ten times faster than anyone else. These are the students who become obsessed to the art...and they become obsessed because they practice this way!

Break your practice into a series of tiny goals, so they always get a feeling of reward

 Things are transitory, and you'll be gone in a 'whoosh' while the world will continue as it is without a problem, so stop being such a self-important scumbag....it's all a play, so chill and do what feels right and good and fulfilling without worry. That's one viewpoint, and it gives hope when there's struggle and you're facing bewildering dead-ends.

 The other view is equally appealing. It's a play alrighty, but are you here just to play and disintegrate into dust one day? Or is there a mystery, a design that you're itching to crack open, and that's why you've descended into this dream, blanketting yourself with a thick unawareness of your own roots and sources, to make things a bit tough and interesting? What's the mystery? What purpose awaits you? Or what purpose do you want to dig up for yourself and pursue joyfully while enjoying the fruits that this existence offers?

 I swing between both of these viewpoints..that is, while not wasting away 99 percent of my time in inertia and day-dreams where I'm a hero and everything is hunky doryish :D

Sounds of gentle rains
splattering outside the window
Hot tea burning its way past the throat
A soothing aroma from the pages
of this book,
and the ideas it holds
which are knocking on worn doors
 and opening new brain cells

What's missing?






















Nothing!

 Most of the days you are fresh and active with minimal work and stress. Some days are stressful and tiring but still you're fine. Even an occasional long drive for the whole day leaves you with a few aches in your ankles and wrists, nothing more.

Then there are days you wake up with a heavy head and disturbed dreams. Half of the weight of the world is on your shoulders. You simply want to lie down and waste away, do nothing else. Your body is signalling to rest and relax although you haven't exerted much. Push a bit and a headache begins to throb. Like today.

If it's energies and churning and stuff, I can't feel it as yet. Of course there's a desire, an intense craving to look beyond this dimension, and surf the waves of my complete existence. Not to be bound by anything, but to be a master of self. To overcome inertia that holds one down, and fly the vast skies on the wings of freedom and joy.

 There was a time when I would write down my dreams, very regularly, in my amatuer writing days. With an aim of becoming a published writer and making my living out of words, I would soak up any writing advice, from anyone. One book said, write down your dreams and visit them later, you'll find story ideas in them, so I began scribbling. Extremely funny dreams would get written down which would otherwise be quickly forgotten. One dream had me hanging upside down from a ceiling while a fully grown hungry Lion approaches me. In another dream I was flying from one building to another, like a bird. Many dreams would fill me with acute embarrassment and dread, where I would be sitting in the open answering Nature's call, with familiar people walking around with a disgusted look. Inner fears, unresolved issues, anxieties and hopes maybe, finding expression through dreams.

 Last night's dream was interesting. We're about to be attacked by a gang of dacoits but there are two rifles in the cupboard, and I'm supposed to load them and be ready. But the gang arrives before time, and the leader, a ferocious looking hulk is at the door. As he orders people around I pick up the rifle and load them with two heavy cartridges, the ones used to kill elephants. A lot of fumbling around, trying to hide it from him, picking up the wrong rifle, his outbursts..all that drama, but I'm cool as fuck. His work done he begins to dance and I take aim, with his head moving in and out of the cross hairs. Finger on the trigger, everyone's expecting me to pull it and blow away his head to hell, and as I'm about to pull it....absolutely calm, no nerves, no tension...and I woke up, with a heavy pounding heart threatening to spill out of my mouth.

What to make of this dream?

 Sometimes there's an intense desire to correct the other person, to assert oneself--especially when that person is in "counselling" mode. I fall prey to it many times, and the result is always burnt fingers, hurt egoes and pride--a bitter taste all around.

 I got a live masterclass in how to handle this shit. Just nod and agree to whatever is said and suggested, especially when the other person is a belligerent motormouth. Don't waste your energy trying to convince the other, or assert yourself and make yourself clear--simply because the other won't agree and you're wasting everyone's time and energy. Just nod and agree, and quickly end the arguement or discussion. Then get back to your life and do WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANNA DO.

Peace of mind all around.
(of course, I'm still learning to implement this fully, old habits die hard)

 All that's hidden is surfacing, so nothing remains obscure. Your crankiness, insecurity, psychopathy, and fear of inflicting suffering on others. Your willingness to manipulate others and throw tantrums. Control-freakism. Your unwillingness to hit back and protect yourself when attacked, for fear of hurting those you love. Giving away your power to others. Living in denial. Not letting go. Not standing in your own light. Jealousy. Grief over un-healing wounds.

I see these in others, in myself. There's a familiar response--rage. Then there's a delayed sober response--to contain and transmute these. In myself. Then, by gently nudging others and putting things across, without stepping on fragile egos.

Fuck this transition. Okay...don't fuck it, but still...

 A story from the Mahabharata keeps popping up frequently. Bhima, Arjuna and Krishna chase Ashwaththaama after he massacres the Pandava sons...and a battle begins. Ashwaththaama releases a powerful asthra called 'Narayana asthra'. Nobody knows how to counter it...even Krishna doesn't have a counter-weapon. Thousands of arrows, chakras and swords are created in the skies and they begin to rain down.

Krishna says, "There's only one way to escape...just bow down and allow the asthra to pass over you." Everyone bows down. Except Bheema! He stands tall and says, "I have nothing against this asthra of Narayana, but it is released by this lowlife, Ashwaththaama, so bowing down to this weapon is like bowing down to him. I would rather die than do that."

Soon the arrows and swords start descending into Bhima but he doesn't budge. Krishna advises him fervently saying, "Let this go, survive this day to fight another day", but Bhima doesn't listen. Finally Krishna and Arjuna subdue Bhima with all their might, push him to the ground and allow the weapon to pass over safely. 

Of course, they catch hold of Ashwaththaama after this and skin him.

Something like the taoist concept of being flexible like a blade of grass which bends in the winds instead of the rigid oak tree which stands proud and is broken and shattered.

What are your basic needs? Food? Sex? Shelter? Validation? How about Shifting awareness to higher realms? And Adventure? Learning? Belly laughters? Intimacy and the need to be loved, to be held, to nurture and be nurtured?

Whether we're here to experience something, transmute something, or create and participate in something, unless our basic needs are met, we progress not an inch. Attending to these needs comes first before anything else!

Before you ...

Eating a mango if you close your eyes and really focus on the taste, you're literally taken back to a different era. The taste, a kind of "pungent" sweetness that departs from the flesh of the fruit and dissolves in your mouth, the transitoryness of the experience--for a few seconds, you're not here. A ripe mango dying in your mouth is a time-travel device.

Knowledge is dangerous. You can die of suffocation and sensory overwhelm if your awareness expands without you being ready to accommodate the expansion. Sometimes you crave to know it all, to experience it fully, to dig deep, to receive everything--but existence doesn't want you to die a miserable death, so it deprives you of it all, smiling at your curses while waiting for you to bloody evolve.

You behave like an idiot, and realize it 20 seconds later. A period of regret follows, along with a resolution to fix yourself and not repeat your idiotic behavior. Until the situation arrives again, and before you realize, you're the same old idiot.

I met a few of them, maybe after what, 2 years? A brief period of warmth. Then distance. They're in their own world, and I have no clue about them. I'm in my own world and they have no clue about me. We walk back to our lives. It's pretty much possible that I may never meet them again. In the middle of the interaction, I suddenly realize that this could be the very last time they see me or I see them, and it overwhelms me with a strange gratitude. Towards whom, I don't know.

Flowers--red, violet, yellow, light pink, turquoise blue. Neatly tied into a beautiful bundle. They were alive and singing in someone's hands. Then the bride received the bouquet. And handed it to someone standing behind her, while she got ready to receive the next bouquet, the next gift. This bunch of beautiful, tender flowers--they got dumped amidst the other bouquets in the corner. Their song had ended. I picked them up, and caressed them, unwilling to let them go away so fast. They smiled as if to say, "It's okay, we're not sad...in fact, we're joyous for the brief period of life we came to enjoy." They had already started to fade.

I wanted them to be alive and smiling. Forever.

Just remembered this anecdote...

  There's a lady, a bit aged. And her husband was still older, bed-ridden, in his final days perhaps. We went to see him--me and Him. The lady ushered us in, her eyes brimming with gratitude and love. And as we entered the room, the old gentleman saw G from his bed, and became overwhelmed with emotion. His feeble hands rose up in a pranam, his voice quivering, tears rolling down as he kept repeating, "You have come all the way here, and I'm unable to get up and greet you." G assured and calmed him with soothing words, sat beside him for a while and enquired after his health. The old man was at a loss for words. For him, this visit by G was undoubtedly nothing short of a visit by God Himself. The whole atmosphere was surcharged with immense love and gratitude. It was very humbling to sit in that room and be a witness to this.

The old man passed away peacefully a few months later. What remains striking is the solace G offered him in his final days...with nothing but His presence. No words. No philosophy. No gifts. No action. Just pure presence.

He embodied that presence so effortlessly, triggering transformations, awakenings and love towards life in those he met. Looks unbelievable that we were with Him just a few years ago. And he also sowed this thirst in us--a thirst to embody a similar divine presence. To embody divinity, to hold light, to carry a powerful presence which would melt away all resistance to life within us. To embody a presence which would radiate out and touch other lives.

A lamp lighting other lamps, spreading warmth and love and joy.

Tame this beast...

 He is an upright officer administering a few villages surrounded by dense forests. The girl he loves is married to someone else. And a tribal girl is secretly in love with him but he brushes off her affections as juvenile infatuation. He has bigger battles to fight everyday. The jungle is home not just to cruel beasts but also to greedy mafia who'll stop at nothing in eliminating anyone in their way. He is in their cross-hairs but he just doesn't care, and goes on about his work with a single minded determination. So the mafia first get the tribal girl;they eliminate her...

 There's a song that roughly translates to this:
  This world...is a marketplace of happiness and sorrow
 Each one in the crowd walks a lonely path
 Everyone nurtures his own dream
 Every soul is pulled by his own destination

 Then, there's a sensation. The fan is running at full speed, and the air rushes past your face, caressing your locks.

 ***

The above three are enmeshed and entwined in a divine embrace. Trigger one, and the other two materialize! It takes the air from a fan at full speed to hit my face, and immediatly, the song arrives, its meaning explodes into my consciousness...and along with it, the story of the officer facing impossible odds, his struggles, desperation, loneliness, sorrows and triumps....all of it comes totally alive.

The officer and his struggles were a part of a TV serial I watched as a 12 year old kid. One summer night, as I lay watching an episode, the nearby fan was running at full speed, the air from it gushing against my face, and soon enough, the credits started rolling and the theme song began to play. The emotional impact of that character was still raw within me, his desperation and helplessness strongly imprinted...and soon I fell asleep. Unknown to me at any level, perhaps a strange connection might have forged between totally unrelated ideas. And this connection would come alive multiple times across the years. Without any rhyme or reason!

 Many songs trigger things. A fragrance brings alive a memory. A touch, a clasp of a hand, and I recoil. A restaurant brings alive a memory of fear and rage, of helpless frustration and sorrow. A road invokes a story. A wide sky opening up in all its vastness triggers something else.

 Where do we exist without memories? How does one get rid of them? Or...how to smile at them and move on?

KC

 His name was KC Balakrishna--KC for short. My best friend in school days, probably at an age where my son is right now. I think we shared every damn thing. School gang fights--he would be my side. Lunchtime, we would share food. Comics, Yes. We probably got beaten up by the same school bully, got punished together at the same time by a strict teacher, etc. In the school pic over the years we stood side by side. But there was just one instance where my friendly instinct got over-ridden, and I let him down.

And the reason for that was a piece of chocolate. Cadbury's 5 star chocolate. I just loved it. And a good bar cost a few rupees. I had saved up the amount over a few weeks leading up to August 15th. The plan was to finish the Independence day celebrations in the school, then get the 5 star bar and walk home munching the delicious chocolate.

So the day arrives, the drill and flag hoisting and singing is done, and we're off home. KC comes running to me. In the sweltering heat of August, an icecream vendor is doing brisk business in the school premises. KC doesn't have money but knows that I do. He perhaps needs 50 paise or something, for a small icecandy bar. 'Get me one,' he says.

That's the most horrible lie that I utter. 'I don't have money,' I say, even as my heart sinks. He is disappointed but more than his crestfallen face, I remember the conflict raging inside me. I'm torn between my love for the favorite chocolate, and the urge to give away the money so that he could enjoy his ice-cream. 'Hogli bidu,' he says and departs. I have my chocolate bar, and I walk home eating it, but the chocolate doesn't taste that good. It tastes bitter. KC's dissapointed face haunts me with every bite I take.

The incident was soon forgotten and we were back as usual. Then, as we shifted to a new house, I changed schools. Went back once to see my old friends...and then, it was a yawning gap of 8 years before I met KC...just once. And we got pulled away in our own tidal currents of life.

Independence day celebrations today...and KC comes up from memory. His disappointment and my guilty bites off the chocolate bar. I love the bar to this day. Wondering...where is he now? Does he remember this incident the way I do? It's strange, the way people reside in us, as a part of our memory, our being. Or the way a part of us remains in all those we come across.

Reminders

I  had this colleague....we both joined my first IT company on the same day. He was, in one word, 'irreverent'. A kind of don't care person. There were shitty bosses who bullied us, and we would squirm uncomfortably. Not this fellow....he was just cool around them, as if their bossyness didn't affect him one bit. It was interesting to see how he gave no shit to their pressure tactics. Or say, there's this girl who thinks she's a super-charmer and tries to act funny, and everyone's going gaga...and this fellow...he would talk to her as if she were a nobody, and put her in her place. I would think, Wow!

He carried the same attitude everywhere, dealing with people on the road as if they were lesser mortals. His fearlessness was kinda inspirational to me because I would be awkward showing rudeness to a stranger. I would wonder how he could do this. I wanted to learn it. And if there was a small function in the office cafeteria, this guy would coolly walk on the stage, grab the mike and sing a lovely song...and then engage the audience asking which other song they wanted to listen to. He was totally in his skin, super cool and comfortable, in front of an audience

He had, however, one mortal fear...and when I realised what it was, I was dumbstruck. He was petrified of Dogs! Terribly scared and shivering to the bones. Sometimes I would drop him off on my bike, and say, there's a small Pomeranian puppy at a distance...and this guy would start trembling and squirming from a mile away. He would be on tenterhooks until we passed by that dog! " I was bitten by a dog when I was a kid," he would explain. And then would go on at length at how people die of rabies and how life is uncertain etc etc. I would laugh at this irrational fear of his--maybe because I never feared dogs--and I would think, this guy is super confident of so many things that make me anxious, yet here he is, mortally scared of something which I'm totally comfortable with!!!

I unfailingly remember him whenever I contemplate 'fear'. This fear...any fear, I think it holds a key. What we're scared of, what makes us tremble, what gives us sleepless nights, what stops us in our tracks and dictates our decisions....it also carries something, some message, something unresolved deep in our marrow and cells. The usual thing we do is to push it away and pretend it isn't there until it shows up in our face, and then we have no option but to start shivering and see how we can escape it. We carry it throughout our lives, sometimes, not bothering to resolve it and get to the other side, and see what paradise(or hell) it leads to.

Everyone's fear is different, maybe because everyone's story in their cells is different. But I have no doubt, with my own triumphs over a few small fears, that this Fear---is a beautiful doorway to a more enriching and rewarding existence, right in this moment.

And the only way to claim such an enriching experience, is to step right in the direction of the fear...not away from it.

Nick

 Alex. He wrote about Alex. Most of the time. The antics of Alex. His Cat. Sometimes I'd get bored reading about the cats adventures. And then slowly I discovered(my assumption, dunno). This old man, living alone in a city in US, blogging almost everyday, commenting on each and every blog post of mine....this old man was terribly lonely, perhaps. With nothing but his cat for dear companionship. I would wonder about his life, about his friends and family and others, about how he lived there in the land of plenty, yet hungry for human companionship, away from his near and dear ones...

Loved his jest for life. His witty comments full of love and compassion. Subtly guiding sometimes. Blessing me on important occasions. Writing about his past and opening a window into a beautiful, eventful life. Of course, writing about Alex and his other cats, subsequently.

Then I lost touch with his blog and got busy in my own world for a couple of years until Karthik pinged me one day, and asked me to checkout his blog. Nick was in deep poverty, suffering from neglect and bad health. A few of us gathered some money and sent it across to him. He was immensely grateful and ecstatic. A few hundred dollors of assistance...how long could it help him? What else could we have done, from here?

Then it was all downhill. Ill health. Cancer. Obesity. An operation and loss of ability to walk. Isolation in the hospital ward. Perhaps the biggest blow...being cut off from Alex and other kittens. Yet....except for the last couple of months, his joy towards life and optimism was intact. He regularly posted on facebook about what was happening to him and what he looked forward to.

I sincerely wished for his 'passing on' a few times, praying for a peaceful end to his suffering. And it has come about, a few days ago. Nick has moved over.

Heck...this passing over, this continuing the journey....sounds good to hear. Except that, those who continue their journey, they don't send back a post card from their new land. You're completely cut off from them and can access them only in memory. Wish it wasn't so. Wish you could connect to them at will. Wish....

 Can't be detached about it. Terribly missing Nick.

On a shore without footprints...

‘Where are you?’ asks Madhavi. ‘She wants to see you.’

I can’t attend the function—full busy. But post lunch I can meet. ‘illa…she will not be here by that time. And she’s been asking everyone about you. Baroke aaguttha? Try mado…’

Aaagalla. A twisted feeling within. I feel like dropping everything and rush there but… And the next two hours, I’m floating in and out of the past. To a particular time period. For some reason, that part of the history is popping up again and again. As if it holds something to be healed, to be revisited and sublimated.

Teacher’s pet. I had no intention of becoming one but from day one, I went deep into studies. And the next three years, there was only one goal. To excel in studies. To be the very best. To score the highest marks, higher than anyone and everyone. A bit of football. Karate. And studies, studies, studies. Nothing else.

She was a gentle lady. Our class teacher for the three years of high-school. In the beginning of the term, when the first test results were out, I had scored extremely well. And after that, I started sucking up everything that was taught, as if I was a camel away from an oasis. Loads and bundles of appreciation from the teachers. Particularly from this lady who handled the English classes.

She was affectionate…loved by everyone. And when someone is a class teacher, you have an additional dose of belongingness towards them. Like you’re in a big joint family, and this woman who’s in charge of you all, she’s your Mom. An invisible, almost intangible feeling of warmth that flowed between her and the entire class, for the whole duration of three years.

High school ended. And we flew away. I went back just a couple of times to my school after that, to invite all the teachers to my sister’s marriage…and another occasion. Saw her once and she had a big grin. Enquired after me. ‘The world is competitive, you have to work hard to succeed,’ she would say. 

And then…it’s been almost a quarter century until today.

I go in the afternoon and meet up all the classmates. No…she isn’t there. A high school teacher…she must’ve seen thousands of students pass through her gaze, her teaching, her nurturing. Like a rock which bears witness to the flowing river across eons. I get sentimental thinking of them. A fine bonding lasting just a few years. Then more children…again they pass out. You embrace them for a while…and let go. How many faces do you remember?

‘But she remembers you…she repeatedly asked everyone about you.’ I see her in the photo, aged and frail. There’s warmth within…to be held in someone’s memory across decades. Wish I could meet her. Maybe I should’ve. Just dropped everything and rushed.

There’s this passing fear…that she wants to see where I’ve reached, for all the promises I raised in those years. And I have nothing earth shattering to show. Will I be a disappointment? Will I falter before her, in my hesitation and awkwardness? Or…is it just to look at me as I am, without expectations, with nothing but a gentle affection towards a once shy, stammering, studious guy? I would love to believe it’s the latter.

I may not meet her again. Or I may. But today brought the beautiful gift of remembrance towards a long forgotten soul, and also a satisfaction of knowing that I’m still being remembered. A gentle bow!