Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Creative Challenge # 117 - Remember

Within the invisible expanse of her mind
She sat at the table
Auditing her memories
Picking, sorting, rechecking, stacking
Touching the dusty files
Fondly, sadly, happily, regretfully.

Stacking them under the labels
"That doesn't make sense"
"Remembered - this time, this place, this person"
"To be forgotten"
"Cherished"
"For My Information(FMI)"
"To be Trashed"

As she burns the Trash,
She remembers each event,
Each person involved, dead or alive
Her own involvement, witness or participant
Each wonder, each hurt
And files them under
"Even in Death, never part".

Waltz through here to visit other wordsmiths at CC#117

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Creative Challenge and Writer's Block Challenge

This week I am combining the creative challenge and the writer's block.  I thought they went well together, complement each other.. Hope you enjoy this read. The picture below was part of the Writer's Challenge. It was taken by Scott Neighbour and titled - Clayburn.

Her reflection in the mirror as she enters her home, doesnt look bad, yet Ria wonders, is this all?  She had a perfectly productive day yet she has a nagging feeling that she cant seem to satisfy. Definitely there has to be more to life, she thinks, else she would not feel this thirst that has been building over time.  No, not thirsty for water, that she has plenty. But a thirst for what she expects life to be.  Her thoughts continue their rant - If I could figure a way to receive his love,  if I could get my mentor to give me her approval, if that ad I have made is received with a good rating, if I could get that promotion, if the money I saved would be enough to buy that house..if.. Life would be so Fantastic and I would be so Content. 

As these if's floated their excuses for why she couldnt be happy right now, she remembers the words she heard from her grandfather - "You have to die the old you to become the New You".   Transformation of life, doesnt happen from the outside in, it starts with the inside out. It starts with an awareness of our wants and needs, we need to quench.  Life becomes what it is and has meaning only because of our search for the metaphoric water, as we are dying of thirst.  This Thirst is a shape-shifting Thirst, for it comes in many forms - an expectation, an acceptance, a realization, a destination, a journey.  We must feel ourselves dying with this thirst, only then would we reach for it like we would water.  Yes, its the dying that makes living worthwhile.. Irony? It does seem to be, yet it is a perfect example of life's duality.

To have, we must Let Go of what we are holding, cause we cant have more when our hands are full ; To Receive you must Give, cause you cant receive with arrogance, the water pot needs to be lowered to fill up water; To become All of You, you need the events that carve your parts.  Its that quiet thirst that drives us to seek quenching. Each time we quench we receive a Brick, like a badge of honour to build our foundation and walls.  We could receive whole bricks or chunks of broken ones, all of that adds to quality, beauty and spirit of the structure we become.  Yes, its my thirst that drives me, thinks Ria, as she sighs and climbs into her bed.  Tomorrow is a new day, with new pathways, all I have to do is build my thirst and lay the bricks.  Sleep claims her tired eyes, as she sinks into her dreams.

Entries for Creative Challenge #85

Entries for Writer's block

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Blogthingie borrowed from Jo's Site.

If you are reading this, whether we do or don't speak often, post a comment of the first memory you have of you and me that pops in your head. When you've finished, post this paragraph on your own page. You'll be surprised what people remember about you.

 

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Creative Challenge #74 -As thick as thieves

I leaf through the scrapbook, dusty with age. 
Every visit to my past, brings a new outlook into my life's page. 

Me and my  memories
Are thick as thieves.
Childhood files -
The fall from the tamarind tree
The  time we ran around naked and free
Rainy day screams at the leech on my feet
Wishing it could hear my fear in the peat
Catching crabs in the rice bunds
Collecting eggs in the chicken coup
Childhood, with its unlimited fun.

Me and my memories
Are thick as thieves.
College days files -
Us layering chalk dust on the teacher's desk
Just so we could measure her seat's breadth
That time in the bus when we stood statuesque
After purposely touching  the baldman's head
Getting off at the wrong bus-stop
Just so we could see the movie star
Youth, Gone in such a flash.

I sit quietly reminiscing, What I was and what I am
Gratefully Understanding, It is enough
I am what I am.

For more Word and Picture Smiths on Creative Challenge #74

Friday, July 4, 2008

Creative Challenge 9 : A moment in Time

Leafing through the Album
Eyes scan the Photos,
Black and white and colour
The  smiles and frowns
The stiff and candid
Cherished memories
Though twas a moment in time.

The whispered nothing
The Cheeks blushing
The shyly held hands
At love's beginning
The coyness in the eye
Cherished youth
Though twas a moment in time.

The silent words mouthed
Behind an elder's back
Beneath the Mango tree
The stolen kisses
At our parents home
Cherished moments
Though twas a moment in time.

The joyful re-union with friends back home
The teasing and affection bestowed
The crash around the bend in the road
Taking you away from me
Twas also a moment in time
Yet, the pain and grief lasted Long
Until, I remembered
All those moments in time
We cherished together
Knowing, you left me
Stronger than I ever was
Now thankful I walk, Holding on
To those precious moments in time.

Waltz through here for Creative Challenge Entries


Saturday, March 29, 2008

Youth: the things I dont miss.

Here I am sitting and reminiscing times in the past. It seems to be an appropriate pastime at the present moment, as I recently reconnected and talked to a  couple of friends from school.  We had lots of things we missed but there were also things that we didn’t miss. Being in the latter half of thirty, we felt nostalgic about the earlier decade.  While there is a lot of things I love about being the age I am right now, there are days I miss my Youth, being 18 something, without much care for the world except in terms of how it affects me, seems so very attractive.  As Usual, I couldn’t be in that sort of mind frame for long, I had to dig out the things I absolutely hated about those by-gone years.

 

I loved the ambiance of our college. It was mostly in a constant state of activity, with the library being the anchor for grounding and quietness. There were always classes to get to and get through. There were movies for which we cut classes and lab work to make up.  There were teachers we loved and those we wished we didn’t have.  And then there were exams, the one thing that sucked the joy out of me.  I loved learning but I despised the regurgitation of what was learned, the inevitable process of examinations.  But it was better than the other option- getting married.

 

It was a given at the time, that the girls from conservative families, will marry while in college. Most were happy to exchange education for being someone’s wife. The last year of college, was also the time when pressure from the elders, to get married, begins.  It was the time for “Groom shopping”.  I watched as some girls, drop off from classes to get married.  We had some really wonderful narrations of the “Groom Shopping” experiences at college recess.  My parents were kind; they waited till I finished college to talk of my wedding. I married after I was considered “too old” for the groom shopping fiestas. I married someone I knew well, so I didn’t have to go through the anxiety and the awkwardness of meeting a stranger. I sometimes wonder how life would have been if I married a stranger I just met.  Of course, it’s not a “What if?” that I want to explore.  I know it must seem strange for me to say such a thing, especially considering the culture I was brought up in.  But stranger things have happened.

 

Speaking of strange things, college days were famous for “Eve teasing”.  It’s a typical Indian term for the wolf whistles, lewd comments and harassment that the boys mete out for the girls in the age group of 14-married. It didn't matter how the girl looked, being a girl was the only criterion.  There was no remedy for this other than ignoring. There are laws against eve teasing but it was just a slap on the wrist. After 24 hours of jail time the Idiots were back on the streets.  Controlling my temper was something I had to learn quick, if I intended surviving for long. And learning to live within my own mind was a blessing.   I would tune out. I never hear anything. I learned to take a different route home, just to be safe. 

 

College life was fun, but getting to college was not fun. We lived in the suburbs and, at that time, public transport was not efficient. There were very few buses on my college route.  Everyday I would spend anywhere from 2-3 hours waiting for a bus. Some days I would get so frustrated with the wait that I would walk home from college. It was a ninety minutes walk. Now although I am glad that I used to get exercise without actually thinking about it, I don’t miss the wait for the transport.

 

I was introduced to Computers at college. We had about 10 computers, the majority of which were 386’s and we had 2 fastest computers of the era - the 486DX. We worked on DOS and used the 5 1/4 inch floppy disks to store our data. We used to consider ourselves very lucky to be able to work with a 486.  After using today’s faster computers, the 486 would be something I wouldn’t miss. I will be glad to see it in a museum though, bringing me fond memories.

 

Among all the things that annoys me, noise takes the upper berth. I couldn’t stand noise(even today) after a certain level or after some amount of time.  My Nemesis was my brother for he and I had conflicting tastes when it comes to listening to music. I liked listening within the normal hearing range but my sibling had to listen to it at the highest volume there was. It always felt like the roof would collapse every time he turned the music on. Most days, we had verbal arguments over the volume of the music.  Finally, I figured that there was just no point trying to get through to a deaf person.  So I used take my books and go to the terrace, where I studied or just read or sometimes sketched, staying till my brother decided to turn down the volume or left the house to attend to his chores.  

 

Our home was a hub of activity most days of the year.  Most every other month, we would have these elaborate dinners with all of our families or friends or colleagues of my parents.  There was always great food, my mom and aunts were really good cooks. It used to be a great time when my cousins came; we used to love the talking and playing.  But it used to get out of hand when we had anyone who was totally drunk.  I hated drinks and cigarettes being served in the house. The Men had nothing to talk about until a few pegs make its way into their system. After that, inhibitions were down; talk abundance, mostly repeating the same stuff or something totally irrelevant to the previous line of conversation.  I have had the most laughs, listening in on such conversations(yes, I was a wicked child, I eavesdropped :P) or watching the blunders in their motor skills.

 

One of my uncles was a chain smoker. I particularly hated his visits to the house. I loved him, for he was a gem of a person but every time he came home I used to end up with stuffed, runny nose and head aches from the tobacco smoke. Of course being the child of the house, it would be considered disrespect and arrogance if I said “why do you drink till the point of drunkenness or why don’t you smoke outside the house”.  So I learned to pick my battles.  I learned to stay out of the way of the elders, when my cousins weren’t there. 

 

I think as I grow older, there will be a more things that I will not miss, and those that I will miss from the earlier years.  I hope to never dwell too much on either issue.  I hope to work on being Grateful for what I have.  After all, Life is in the NOW. Hopefully I will remember that always.

 

Have a wonderful Weekend. :)

 

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Who Are You?

Memories are strange things. There are times when I cant tell if what I know is a memory of something that happened or if it is a dream from some other place.  There are memories of places, people and times that I am sure I have not met in this life of mine. 

 

 If I were to pinpoint the exact time my heart felt you, I should go back a few lifetimes, hard as that is to believe.   I feel your presence around me, even when my eyes don’t see you. I know your thoughts like I do my own thoughts.  I feel your touch like I feel the passing breeze that caresses my face on a cool summer day.  People say I am a Loner but I am never alone, never really alone. 

 

There are days when you appear.  I am not sure if it is my dreams or if it is your world.  But I see you as clear as the Moon on a dark night.  I see your impish yet wise face, dark hair and the glint of mischief in your eyes, that endearing smile on your lips that makes dimples on your cheeks.  We have pleasant walks over beautiful meadows overlooking mountains, picking flowers or along the river bank feeling the wet soil or the sand or a trail in the woods with the sounds of songbirds.  We frolic in the waters,  pick fruits from laden trees,  walk amongst the gentle animals or sometimes pet the Big Cats. Sometimes we share long conversations, or very comfortable silences with smiles that warm our insides, the kind that leaves joy and peace within my self as I come out of the fog.  I always know I will see you again, that the coming of the fog only means that our time with each other was up for my day.

 

I never remember the conversations except for the feeling of being happy.  But the words you said come to me at certain times in my life, like a reminder. It feels like as if its something my elder has taught me, like as if I already knew, like its part of me but really not from me. 

 

It makes me curious…who are you?  Are you a visitor from my past or part of the present or will be part of my future?  There are people who remind me of you, like you split yourself into those many others.    You feel like a friend almost bordering someone I love but I also feel an unseen line that we are careful not to cross. Nothing is said but is understood.  

 

Would a day arrive where the world where you are and the world where I seemingly am, could blend into One?   As I wait for an answer, I do wish for you to remain a part of me even if I don’t really know who you are.  It doesn’t matter, for I have my names for you so that I may claim you for myself—my soul’s guard, my place of happiness, my place of understanding who I am.

 

P.S. This is my entry for Creative Challenge #22 : Elusive Dreams. Tour Begins here

Monday, February 25, 2008

Entry for February 25, 2008

Random Thought of the day- The Gift, not accepted, remains with the Giver.

In one of my weekend conversation with the little ones, I said that just because there are unkind kids at school doesnt mean that they have to be unkind to others.  I do subscribe to the view that we dont need to let others mould us into something we dont want to be. Of course, its not an original thought, it did come somewhere from my childhood readings of Buddha.  Specifically it came from a story I heard a long while ago.  It goes something like this- 

During his numerous wanderings, Buddha was once invited by a rich man to have dinner at his home.  So at the appointed time Buddha arrives at the man's house and realizes that the Man had an agenda.   The Man  began to verbally abuse the Buddha for his teachings, the kind of man he was and the kind of followers he had.  Buddha sat quietly until the man was done talking after which he got off his seat and left. The Disciples were very agitated with what they saw. They asked him why the Buddha did not say anything while the man was clearly being rude. The Buddha replied- I did not accept his gift and hence it is with him. 

The idea is that Hatred does not end hatred so do not retaliate in Kind.  Of course this applies only for what we view as negative behaviour. We would want to repay Kindness with kindness and Love with Love. 

But as I told my kids to not be unkind even though the other is unkind, I was contradicting my own words in my mind.   I have seen that not retaliating is considered as a weakness by most. I have seen that the Nice kids are the ones who become targets for bullying.  I see the ones who are unruly are the ones who get to get away with what they do. And I wondered if I was doing right by my kids, telling them to be kind inspite of the unkindness.  I wondered if I wasnt handicapping them in some way.  If I wasnt making room for someone to think they can take advantage of them just because they are well-mannered-good kids(at least for the most part).  Does that quote hold in today's world?

I hate the conflict my ideal world and the real world creates.  It annoys me to see that what I see as right and want to teach  kids to be like would become a hurdle for them to cross. 

I struggle everyday with what I should do and say and how I should become so that my kids would have the ethics but also the smarts to  live in a not so NICE world.   How do we do whats right and make sure our kids arent scarred in some way?  How do we  make them People with a conscience in a everyday world without a conscience?

Walking  in motherhood limbo
Rashmi.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

To my Grandchildren

My bones now creaking like old doors on hinges desperately needing oil, I sit and look out into the distance. The Distance of times gone by appears very sharp. Yes! Most think we humans like to romanticize a by-gone era, simply because of nostalgia for an imagined goodness. There is no one to blame except for time, for that kind of thinking. But I have to try to beat time, to leave you, my grandchildren, an understanding of what I have come to understand. You see, in my present state, that is all I can leave for you-Words from experience and understanding. Goodness comes from understanding what Badness is and learning to Master your Mind to stay away from it. There is no evil, except the unwillingness to make an effort to devote ourselves to that which brings harmony within our minds. If you watched a class with students not paying attention, you will find that the moment the Teacher quietly turns around and watches the Class, each and every student will begin to respond by quieting down. That, is the Silence the Teacher wills INSIDE her mind, moving OUTSIDE to the Students mind. Harmony, like Silence moves from Within to the Without. Cultivate your minds to seek out that which serves harmony.

In the days of my youth, we understood respect because respect was the Norm. An Elder, even if they were born just one day earlier than you were, was given respect because they have irreplaceable experiences that the one extra day gives them. A young one was given respect because they learned by example. Giving them respect meant continuing the cycle of respect, so they know how to respect others. We spoke and addressed the young, the same way we would address someone older than us, that way the thought of ever using disrespectful words have no place in their inheritance. So practice respecting yourself by paying attention to doing and saying things in a manner that increases esteem in your own eyes. Respect for others comes when you know how to respect yourself.

An Elder was the keeper of knowledge- of families traditions, of nature’s working, of all things learned from the foundation of knowledge from those before them. Our Elders knew what it was to be an Elder, the one that guides those depending on their Wisdom. They understood that wisdom was lost when arrogance entered their minds, and hence always acted in Benevolence…They knew to live without infringing another’s right to live. Taking only what they need, not what they want, is what keeps the delicate balance within Nature. We all know what we need but most of us care about what we Want. Listening and Doing, more than Preaching lead to building bonds. Cultivating good speech was a virtue. Being Honest and Ethical in our work and taking responsibility for our actions was a virtue that made a man or woman out of us. To practice compassion, mercy and forgiveness while not giving into greed, anger, jealousy, envy, or our ego was the practice of everyday life. Everything in life has a unseen boundary and a harmonious family lived within this boundary. When you do something for the very first time, it is difficult but once you do it, it becomes easier the second and the third time. This holds for crossing boundaries too. Once you cross, the boundary is broken and usually it is hard to get back inside and build it again. Which is where responsibility comes in. Being responsible means learning what is appropriate and acting on it. Being responsible means that when mistakes are made, you dont blame someone else for it. The Idea of responsibility is not merely apologizing for a mistake but for remedying the mistake.

You, my grandchildren, are foundlings in the learning. I want to leave you with what I know so that you may build on it. The future rests on you, hence you need to be that brick that is still in the kiln. A lot of burning has to be done to become strong-Burning of ignorance. I know the world around you is not what it used to be when we were young. But there are a few constants apart from the obvious ones like day and night and the seasons. I have learned that each of us has a place that is exclusively ours. There are a lot of distractions today than we ever had in our time but you still have constants, that those who came before you had- the quality to discern what is good. Ask yourselves if what you are thinking or saying or doing builds on what is already being built or does it bring down what was built by the endless efforts of your ancestors before you? In that answer lies the Truth, the Constant.

While doing something remember that simple every-day acts have consequences. And Consequences are like words, once out of the mouth, they can’t be taken back. Think about what consequences you would like before you act for in that answer lies the Truth, constant.

Find that place of quiet within you. Look at how you grew from infancy. Do you see? You learned to walk before you learned to talk. That’s the universe telling you the rule of life, always walk the walk before you talk the talk. When you walk in Truth, there is no need for talking.

Remember nothing is yours to keep for eternity, so pass on that you learned in the quiet, to those younger than you. That is our purpose, to add to the brick that builds. Live like a warrior, remembering that you could die any moment. Be not afraid of death, for that is what every living being does, it is not special. For a warrior, to remember death, IS Living. Use that reminder to do what needs to be done right now, so that you never die leaving unfinished work. To Die without regret, with dignity is to die Honourably. So, do not shame your ancestors with the fear of death.

I understand that you will feel like I am talking of Utopia. But I urge you to think of it and look upon changes that have happened within your own lives. Ask yourself, if you willed it or it fell upon you? Keep an account of all your thoughts before the changes and after the changes, you will see that everything came from your thoughts, even the thought that merely passed and you thought was inconsequential. Yes, thoughts manifest. So direct your thoughts to that which you want to manifest. Keep your thoughts clear, so that when it manifests there is no confusion.

Do not weep on my departing, for I leave a part of me within each of you, you only need to listen to it in silence.

May you always remember the blessing that you are.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Why we read what we dont understand

I enjoy listening to languages I dont understand, its the only way to entertain my poor Bored ear. I try not to make my senses complacent. So sometimes during my everyday chores of cutting veges, cooking and cleaning, I end up with a cut on my finger or a burn on my arm or a blue mark on my thigh(nope I am not admitting I am a Klutz). If I continue doing the things as it is done everyday, my brain feels like its on automation. I dont like automation, I like to mark the difference between a Machine and ME...

oh where was I? Yeah! listening to stuff that I dont understand... Probably my first introduction to what I dont understand was the early morning Shloka readings I used to hear from my neighbours house. You could set the clock by the time that Uncle used to start the Shloka, it used to be regularly, without fail. At first it annoyed me that his shloka was waking me up... but over time I began to enjoy it. So I used to stand at the sink, eyes closed, with the brush in my teeth listening to the high and lows of his chanting. I never knew what it was that was that felt so nice but listen I did. After a while I used to know the variations if he made a mistake(I am presuming he did so). At that time, my mother was reading the Bhagawath Geeta in Sanskrit with its translations in Kannada(a language she could read write and speak fluently). Me, the one who prided herself in being Logical couldnt understand it. Why read the Sanskrit version and then read the translation when you could just read the translation and be done? Oh well! I should have known it will come to bite me in the future...I did it too in my 20's, reading the Bhagawath Geeta in sanskrit with translations in English. Makes me wonder... is there some pattern in the Genes for carrying over Mother's mode of behaviour? I never bothered to rationalize it.. it just was.. I like doing it. Yesterday, my cousin sends me this story which I thought gave me an explanation of why my mother did what she did... Here goes the story. Enjoy:

Why do we read Geeta, even if we can't understand a Sanskrit word???

The Story:

An old Farmer lived on a farm in the mountains with his young grandson.
Each morning Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading his Bhagavat Geeta. His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could.

One day the grandson asked, "Grandpa! I try to read the Bhagavat Geeta just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Bhagavat Geeta do?"

The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and replied, "Take this coal basket down to the river and bring me back a basket of water."

The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house. The grandfather laughed and said, "You'll have to move a little faster next time," and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again.

This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home. Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in a basket, and he went to get a bucket instead. The old man said, "I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You're just not trying hard enough," and he went out the door to watch the boy try again.

At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got back to the house.

The boy again dipped the basket into river and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty.

Out of breath, he said, "See Grandpa, it's useless!"
"So you think it is useless?" The old man said, "Look at the basket."

The boy looked at the basket and for the first time realized that the basket was different. It had been transformed from a dirty old coal basket and was now clean, inside and out.

"Son, that's what happens when you read the Bhagavat Geeta. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, you will be changed, inside and out. That is the work of God in our lives."

End of story.

I guess it goes to explain reading every holy book too. Maybe thats why they are considered Holy. This also takes me back to second grade when we learned the Multiplication tables without really understanding what it meant. We had to memorize it, so we did.. When I reached 3rd grade, as I was writing out the table on paper, I suddenly understood how the table was written.. I felt elated.. although thinking about it now, I wonder if I was a dullard at math(giggling).

Peace always

Mithuna

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Random story writing challenge

I have accepted Carol's Random Writing Challenge. Anyone who loves to write can join! You don't have to 'know someone' or be in a clique to join the challenge. Any individual who sees the challenge and wants to write can do so.

Here is my entry -

Hearts Boxes.

 

 

We stayed together when most said we wouldn't. We walked together through our financial difficulties, the death of our new born, our family's opposition and our period of separation due to our jobs. Our love was true and pure, this I believed. We believed we could stand any test of time. Where did we go wrong?

 

We cared a lot; we still do, though now the distance seems like an abyss. We still look upon our kids with love. We couldn't possibly love our kids, when we know they have a part of them that is not MINE, if we didn't love each other?

 

Sixteen years can make quite a difference in a person's thinking and personality. We had to be reminded that things will change, for in life, the only constant, is Change. Time, is a mean taskmaster. It can take the sweetest ideals of youth and make them bitterer than a bitter melon. We love each other but were no more IN Love. Passion, like every energy form, transforms and takes on other forms. His work became his passion, while waiting for him became mine. Each day with me made him more self-sufficient, while it eroded my worth. Each day he aimed higher while I couldnt get through my day. My unheard calls for togetherness, became a seed for resentment.

 

I remember the times we walked hand in hand, the warmth that spilled into cold nights, the long talks at the dinner table and the shoulders we leaned on. A sigh escapes me. He is right, it's better to leave before we begin to hate each other. Anger brings words that can't be taken back once it is out. This way, we will be able to find Passion for ourselves, while still being there for our kids and family. Maybe I will find myself, who I unwittingly lost.

 

I walk out the door with my packed bags, taking with me what I can touch, see and belongs exclusively to me. I lug an unseen sack tied at my chest. I could'nt find a box, big enough to fit my memories.