The Gosammer Link....

I sat quietly remembering my youth when I would lose myself in those periods of intense gloom. It was like walking unending alleys of mindless sadness that led nowhere - walking aimlessly without any direction or destination. 

People around, parents, family, friends would cease to exist or matter. 

Intrusions in those periods by the ones who loved me would cause an eruption of senseless anger. These were periods of acute frustration without cause or reason. 

Pulled out of my reverie, as I sat watching my daughter and her friends having their party,  there occurred a strange understanding, a gossamer linking of their youth and my memories....

19th Dec '95

                

                                      MUSINGS    

Blithe spirits full of vitality , vigour,

And the spontaneity of youth,

Dancing to the music of Whigfield, Rednex and Re-mixes.

Beyond religion, rituals and dogma,

With only their wholeness, complete in themselves;

Confident, vibrant and without any fear in living life.

And yet with their own doubts, questions.

What do I want to be? What should I become?

Abilities and aptitudes at times in conflict.

Their yearnings - deep, poignant penetrating.

An ache rising from within

To pierce the skies.

And longings and desires:

To tear up the green grass in the meadows.

Their dreams and aspirations

Fragile and hazy in the mists of youth;

Yet 

Alive and very real 

In their confidence 

That their dreams and aspirations are.

For each one 

We have objectives, aims and careers

Well defined

Rich in wealth, power and happiness.

As parents, guardians, elders,

If we can,

Let us share in their aspirations

While we live ours.

To share

And become a part of their environment;

To first be a friend.

For only in understanding

Can we be a teacher and a guide.

Not to impose;

Rather help them find

Themselves.

If they stumble,

Let us keep them from falling;

If they cry in frustration

Let us allow them to;

Yet only as long as their tears are healing.

Let us listen and share in their heartaches,

Their joys.

Let us give to them the only treasure

We have without limitation:

Ourselves.

Without impositions, demands,

Freely and with our love.

Let our dreams be:

To cherish them and nurture their aspirations

And in their moments of realization 

When their closeness

To omniscience and eternity

Gives them a glimpse of Truth

To

Without fear or conditions

Set them free.

For though we are the wellspring,

The stream

Has to become a river 

And flow into the ocean beyond.

In setting them free

We will not lose them.

In their shared aspirations 

And love

We will become a part of them

Forever.

The most selfish act of our lives

Yet leaving them with the freedom to be

And present to the miracle of being alive.

               *               *               *               *

A corollary:

If possible look beyond:

Wives, parents, sisters, friends and relatives;

For each stream 

Carrying twinkling moments 

Of shared aspirations and love

Which becomes a river 

And flows into the ocean beyond

Brings each closer to oneself

And fulfilment.

For the destiny of each one

Is pre-destined:

Oneself.

Only the time taken

And the path

Varies.

The Shift.....

As children we were quite often given the puzzle wherein there was this picture of a sardarji. And we were prompted to find the girl in the picture. I remember the exquisite thrill when the pretty young thing appeared suddenly in the picture for us for the first time.

It was the first 'Eureka!' moment truly coming alive in our lives.

It is something to experience rather than learn.

Once it happens you look forward to other such experiences. It becomes an eager wait for us till the next such moment arrives.

And then, sometimes, in the day to day existence for survival we lose our ability to feel...

Alive Again...


Earlier my journeys into myself
Confused, uncaring, accepting,
Directionless.


Fragments of an earlier time
Of living within and yet sharing without;
A period aeons past in memory
Natural,
Flowing into a sea of tranquility:
Alive, joyous, creative;
And then something happened;
Not suddenly, 
But gradually over the years......
Why?


The acceptance of the realization:
Perhaps,
It was just a part of growing up,
Inevitable, natural, not to be undone.


          *               *               *


Now
In these moments of heightened awareness
As I journey into myself,
Walking up the sloping hill
Reaching the peak
To see the mist snuggled cosily 
In the folds of the valley below,
I become the first beam of sunlight
Gently warming it awake.
And it wakes with a flurry
Rising up into the lightening sky.


Far below I can see the silver thread
Of an undulating stream.
A part of me not known before,
Or perhaps lost in memory
And reborn today.


And the cave still there as before:
Dark, foetid, fearful.
Fear not of the graveyards
Or the terrifying beings of a child's imagination
But fear of doing, of being,
Of inadequacies, of doubts and uncertainties,
Imprisoned within those moments of
"What could be and what could have been."


I am yet unable to keep my knees from trembling
When I came face to face with these fears;
Yet
I also know
That soon I will speak the words:


"I say and so I will."


In that moment 
I will touch, feel, smell, see and hear them,
And one by one they will flow within me
And become mine
In completion.


No longer fears -
Rather inadequacies become adequate
And doubts dissolved 
As if never there.


For within one
Nothing dies.
Moments once lived, never change;
They become eternal as they are.


Only perceptions change;
Different facets of the same truth.

The Yellow Sands and the desolation......

BITS Pilani - 1966...

The desert sands stretched as far as one could see. The road meandered through the yellow dunes, rocks and scattered thorny bushes. Stunted keekars stood like lost sentinels guarding that emptiness.

Drip irrigation was something only read about in articles on Israel and still a long way away in the future.

The oasis of the campus consisted of buildings with typically colonial arches and faded yellow and white structures. The gardens though were lush and green. The trees with their red flowers spread their branches over neatly laid out roads.

Unknown to us, each moment there was an experience, forging links that were to last a lifetime. Time and distance had no essence in this closeness that was developing. The strands forming the bonds were flexible and could pick-up and let-go at will. These in the future were to form the basis of our relationships.

And thrown into that cauldron of life was also the intensity of youth. And it carried with it the un-chartered depths of anger, joy, laughter, despair - and a passionate search for answers to the purpose of life.

We would lie on the lush lawns of the Saraswati Temple, listening in melancholy to the throaty rendering of 'Mere hatheel Shyam..'

Or listen in the darkening silence to the resounding calls of the peacocks, lost in their loneliness, looking for a mate.

And the outcome from one such period flows below:

Life.... 1969?

Life

Like holes in the cheese

Cliche riddled.

Truths dusty and lost in the smog of years

To become half-believed

Half truths.

It's like sailing on an emerald sea

Of increasing stillness;

An indifference that nothing shakes.

And those islands:

Isolated pangs of remorse, joy, pity,

Of emotion and feeling

Decreasing

And becoming far between.

And finally

To lie still on the glassy sea

Like some ancient mariner,

Lost

Without his albatross

And to die

Of slow decay

In stagnation.

The Winter of '95

It was cold...

At nights the fog rolled in. In a few moments it would cover the trees in a cloak of white. All pervasive and silent, it would sweep over the roads reducing the street lights to a dim orange glow.

People walked the streets with their heads down, hurrying to the warmth of their homes.

The days were grey and damp. The mist fell in a fine spray gently covering the windshields making it difficult to drive.

And in that clammy cold there existed this warmth. Vital and full of life it was impervious to all and continued to glow. Akin to the room heaters with rods used in those days it enveloped people in its orange warmth. It flowed from one person to another carrying its glowing warmth in the form of words and gestures shared.....

Dec 28, '95

TO A WIFE AND A MOTHER

It started with an interview

Followed by stolen kisses,

And golden moments in the winter sunlight.

And then we were married

Two young ones on a honeymoon!

Today our married life has turned a half cycle.

We are older and much in life has gone by;

Yet much remains.

The yearning to weave the moonbeams

Into a garland for you

Has mellowed.

Over the times

A mingling of thoughts, of moments shared:

An intimacy beyond sex, beyond individuality,

Birthed a togetherness,

Yet leaving each an individual, whole and complete.

Today

What you give to us everyday

Is your love.

And you do it by doing.

You and your best creations in life

Fill me with deep joy and gratitude.

For today and now, even when away,

All three are with me and I am home.

For this and all that is to be

Let my love and our moments together

In tenderness

Be within you as life goes on.

For then

They will fill you with a sense of peacefulness

And tranquility.

And in the growing darkness of winter

When the fogs roll onto the streets

And the roads are damp and clammy

They will walk by your side and keep you warm.