Finally, I made upto it.

I have to thank all of you a lot and again thank you a lot. Why? Because with your love and support I have made to this stage.

I have got 500 friends and well wishers today. All of them who believed in me, supported me, and above all guided me.

When in 2016, I started, I wrote for venting, after that it became a support system to fight my inner devils, then sometime later it became ranting and now I am trying to live my dream of being a writer, blogger and learner of the skill through it. In all the stages, your love and wishes have supported me along the journey.

Hope you continue to be around and support me to grow.

Laundry as unsorted thoughts

I hate folding laundry. Actually, I must say, I just can’t bring up myself to do this tedious job. My biggest procrastination after writing is folding the washed laundry.

It happens many times that I go to fold it and then giving it a look my mind to me says,’ Nah! Some other time. Any other day. You have lot more things to do right now.’ And then I cross pass the laundry. Then days turn into weeks and weeks into a month.

My laundry is then cleared in instalments…I mean, my hubby folds and keeps his clothes, though being a busy bee and completely submerged into his work, he does takes out time . Then my kids do their part and in last my daughter helps me out with mine.

I don’t know why but I just can’t do it. Sorting out laundry feels like sorting out my thoughts and I just hate sorting out my thoughts. May be that’s why My laundry keeps on mounting day by day just like my thoughts pile up in my head and sometimes try to explode and when I try to write, all mixed up and confused emotions come out. Which takes long to organise.

Wanderer soul trapped

I have always loved the journeys and not the destination. Since childhood I’ve been travelling, though to and fro from my native place to my grandparents town in summer vacations.

The lust for travelling has been since instilled and even after forty years is not quenched.

The journeys I took in my childhood and early teens have a strong effect on my memories. My comparisons, if any, in a scene or specially in the poems, comes from those memories.

I love reliving those light moments when everything felt like rejuvenating. Each movement, each step filled me with thrill. A destination gave me hope of new journey. Reaching at a place filled me with anticipation for the journey either return or continued one to another stop. This used to be a cycle.

In childhood days, I never wanted to reach the destination because all the enjoyment, excitement and new experiences laid in the journey itself and not the place. I mean for a while it’s ok but then your heart starts longing for the journey to another place, to new experiences and all.

For me the transit period is best. Stationary means dead, to me at least it seems so.

I had no mobile phone or digital camera when we traveled to show now, the journeys I have taken, to the places which are engraved in my heart but the photos are still tucked in the albums and kept safely. The memories live behind eyelids. So fresh, so lively.

These days I am not able to travel a lot, at least as much I desire to thus the pain of missing the roads is building up in my heart.

Whenever I hear or see someone on the go, I long to be a free soul of the wanderer. I want to be a nomad, stopping at a place where no one has been or very few have known. I want to mingle with the people and their culture, to be one with the nature. I don’t want to stay for long, just understand the place and it’s life then leave for new place to quench thirst of my eyes and soul, to see the nature’s and beauty.

I know that I am not here for forever so, whatever time I have left, I want to witness the nature’s creation. To feel it in first hand. To be out there in the nature and experience the creating force passing through me, giving me a new lease of life and unfolding the truth of our existence, the whole purpose of our being.

In search of Comfort…

From past 2 – 3 days I am not my normal self. I thought of working on my memoir but could not do so.

Reason? CORONA ! My hubby is detected moderately Corona positive. And I am not by his side. As I told in my previous blogs that I have come to my brother’s place and I am stuck here in month long lockdown. Even there at my place also it’s lockdown.

Though his treatment is going on at home and he says he is going g fine so I should not bother much and should not rush to him with children, as flight is the place to catch infection and that will be more problematic. Moreover, I won’t be able to go near him so it’s safe that I stay where I am.

Just to lighten up when I tried TV it was all filled with Corona news and all sort of negative information. When I turned to movies, I couldn’t stop thinking about him which again brought the sad reality.

I tried my social apps but of no use. E erywhere I hear about it. Last but not least, I turned back to YouTube and there I tried all my followed channels but of no use. I even tried talk down meditation and self hypnosis but nothing actually helped. Then, I found a channel of a couple who have left their settled life in city and me their home in hills. That channel brought me so much relief that I subscribed them. While searching for more such channels I came across one another guy who is a local Vlogger and till two days back was going through the same problem as mine. Actually, his father was hospitalized due to CORONA. He, too unlike me was searching for something to comfort himself during that period. YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, movies but couldn’t console himself and his work as a vlogger suffered a lot.

But, atleast I got the point that I am not alone who is at unrest and not over reacting. Now, as I understand diverting my interest to something new I may give rest to troubled mind plus one more thing I have found out that mountains are calling me too. Not the commercial areas but the rural or outskirts. The calm and peaceful life made me cry. The serenity of the mountains is so addictive. I don’t know whether I will get to experience that life or not but for now it is calming and comforting my alarmed soul.

I pray for safety of all. Be careful.

Prompt

At the time of dusk it was raining hard. She stood all drenched, looking around helpless; in that unknown place. Eyes swollen with crying and her hands busy in wring the hem of her skirt, just in vain to dry it. When with the strike of thunder her eyes were blinded for few seconds and with the return of visibility she could figure out a human form, coming forward in her direction. All dressed up in black suit, face covered under a black hat, if anything that could be distinguished, was a white collar of his shirt over the collar of his well tailored coat. His way of walking didn’t give the motive, neither his standing posture, as he had come to holt a few feet away from her. He shed the water from his face and the tiny droplets made ripple in the puddle of water gathered on the ground. Still, it was raining hard and thunderbolts were striking. She felt an urge to turn and run away. But her feet refused to carry her further. They were aching from running for past one hour. Above all, she didn’t know the way. She realised water tasted salty on her lips. Rubbing her mouth with the back of her palm, she hesitated to look in stranger’s direction. But, when she somehow gathered courage to look up, he was pulling out something from his behind. In her confusion, she realised, she missed the fact that his one hand was behind his back since he appeared. She trembled with fear and was about to collapse when he bent forward and she saw there was something strange in his hand, not atleast a gun or revolver. So, he certainly not one of those who were hunting her to kill. She released a deep sigh of relief before hitting the ground. Within no time she shook herself up. By this time, he had laid down that thing down and was opening it. Now, she could make out that it was an old rusted green trunk. Her eyes widened in despair. To her horror, she saw a whole staircase going down, in that TRUNK!! What was it. Was she dreaming or mind was playing tricks on her. No, may be she could not handle that much of stress, so her sanity may have given way. Yes, that is the only sensible explanation for what she just saw. While she was struggling with her thoughts, he grunted. Startled girl looked in his direction. He had laid the trunk open and signaled her to enter. Finding her not able to make up her mind, he straightened up and pointed towards her back and again signaled to come in.

The Shooting Star.

A lovely book by Shivya Nath. These days I am reading her. What impresses me is her language, her choice of words. The way she narrates her travel story, her journey from being a homely Indian Girl to the Global Girl she is now, touches my heart deeply. I tried to put off that book and start working on mine, but there is a little whisper at the back of my mind which lures me back to read it and by the time I realise, I am already deeply immersed in that book of hers. Her style is so expressive that it makes one experience the feelings she is going through. When the adrenalin running through her veins; circulates in yours, you cannot make out.

Through her writing you can feel the cool breeze rubbing your cheeks. The night sky of the places she’s been to comes alive in your memories. Her fear, her confusion and her anxiety all become your personal experience. Her agony, her joy her friends and above all her experience with the people she met through her journey and people on her personal upfront all seem acquainted to you.

I never found any memoir so inspiring and intriguing that made me cry, cry for the life I am missing, the way I wanted to be. This particular book made me realise that I have wasted my half life doing nothing apart from washing laundry, cooking meals and dusting the cob-webs. No, I am not blaming this book about making me cry but praising it to make me accept the small voice of my heart. From past few months I am longing to lead a nomadic life, somewhere deep inside the far off places. The places which are not yet been explored call me. From the age of adolescent, I’ve been touring places. But I now realise that I don’t want to be a tourist. Actually my heart aches for wandering. I want to be a traveller in the real sense and not merely a tourist.

`The Shooting Stars’ engulfs me so much that at the point I am craving for getting back what my soul is searching for. Infect, I want my life to end up soon and I be born as a wander or have the opportunity to lead a free life.

I want to scale the high mountains, run in the valleys, breathe in the fresh air. I want to feel the nature embracing me. I want the sea waves to giggle under my feet, the warm sand and wind slapping against my face. The rain drops drenching me to the core of my soul and quench my thirst.

There is so much that I have not done and it pricks like a thorn in my heart but the time is not over yet. I still am breathing and walking so I have decided to make up for the lost time. May be I cannot climb summits or paraglide but still I can travel to new places and at least try to track some of the mounts. Meet people who are not yet civilised go, deep in the heart of my country. Learn from the nature sleep under the open sky counting My Shooting Stars!

In search of Comfort…

From past 2 – 3 days I am not my normal self. I thought of working on my memoir but could not do so.

Reason? CORONA ! My hubby is detected moderately Corona positive. And I am not by his side. As I told in my previous blogs that I have come to my brother’s place and I am stuck here in month long lockdown. Even there at my place also it’s lockdown.

Though his treatment is going on at home and he says he is going g fine so I should not bother much and should not rush to him with children, as flight is the place to catch infection and that will be more problematic. Moreover, I won’t be able to go near him so it’s safe that I stay where I am.

Just to lighten up when I tried TV it was all filled with Corona news and all sort of negative information. When I turned to movies, I couldn’t stop thinking about him which again brought the sad reality.

I tried my social apps but of no use. E erywhere I hear about it. Last but not least, I turned back to YouTube and there I tried all my followed channels but of no use. I even tried talk down meditation and self hypnosis but nothing actually helped. Then, I found a channel of a couple who have left their settled life in city and me their home in hills. That channel brought me so much relief that I subscribed them. While searching for more such channels I came across one another guy who is a local Vlogger and till two days back was going through the same problem as mine. Actually, his father was hospitalized due to CORONA. He, too unlike me was searching for something to comfort himself during that period. YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, movies but couldn’t console himself and his work as a vlogger suffered a lot.

But, atleast I got the point that I am not alone who is at unrest and not over reacting. Now, as I understand diverting my interest to something new I may give rest to troubled mind plus one more thing I have found out that mountains are calling me too. Not the commercial areas but the rural or outskirts. The calm and peaceful life made me cry. The serenity of the mountains is so addictive. I don’t know whether I will get to experience that life or not but for now it is calming and comforting my alarmed soul.

I pray for safety of all. Be careful.

Papa…through my eyes

Papa was posted out of home town after ten years for the first time. We accompanied him. He was very particular about everything so that we don’t have to face any problem regarding anything. From house to school and house help. Because it was the first time for us to be separated from our big joint family, and maa had to maintain the household all by herself.

Back at home, there were many people to help in house hold work and take care of me and my younger brother. Here it was all to be done by maa and papa without any help. But, as I mentipned papa was particular about making arrangements of home and house help we got a beautiful home and the house helps were provided by his office. So, now only problem left was our school. That too was solved soon but he was still worried about me that how will I manage in school all by myself. As, back at home I was accompanied by my cousins and sibling and here I had to attend school alone, all by myself and that too at such a tender age of 12.

Papa was so much worried about me that one day he came over to my school to just pay me a visit and confirm that I was doing well. He saw me sitting all alone in the quiet corner of the playground area(as it was recess time) and went straight to principal’s office. I was then called. This made me nervous as I couldn’t understand what mistake I made. On the way to her office, my legs were shaking and there were cramps in stomach. In her office, when I saw papa, sitting very serious, I felt afraid and confused and couldn’t understand what have I done so bad that they had to call papa. I wanted to run away but papa noticed saw me and my teary eyes and face as pale as dry grass. I stopped dead at the door. He arose from the chair and walked towards me. My heart was beating in my mouth, as fast as express train. He came near me and lifted his hand, placed on my head and asked why did I sat alone in a corner? We were given extra time after recess was over to talk. He looked at me and asked if everything was okay? But now I know and deeply believe that he came there to make sure for himself that I was safe and doing well.

One another such day, I was suffering from stomach flue but couldn’t take leave from school as exams were coming near. At school, classes started after Zero period in which we had some physical activities. From the ground I saw Papa pacing up and down the corridor in front of our class and Principal was standing along with him. She signaled me to comeover. When I reached them, Papa was already at the top of the small flight of stairs. He asked about my stomach ache and gave me some syrup. He even made sure that I will go straight to the class and take rest. Then he said to principal that if required she should call him. After he left, she said that I was one lucky girl to have him around and that he cared so much about his li’l princess. He came all the way just to make sure that I am OK. He was one worried parent who loved his daughter so much.

Though thirty-four years have passed, I cannot forget what my principal said about him, ever. Those words are engraved in my heart so deep that they will never ever fade.

I always remember Papa with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes. His loss is something I can never cope with. As I mentioned in my previous post, I am writing a memoir about him but fighting a turmoil of emotions to complete. This post is one small example of it, which I planned weeks back but had no courage to start and when started, completed today but posting it without any re-reads or corrections. Hope I am forgiven for that.