Presenting : Twisted Logic in 55 words.
She sat on the bed, half naked, wincing as he applied the balm over the welts on her back.
She tried but didn’t understand. "Why?" she whispers, eyes brimming.
"Because I love you" He says. “You correct the one you love" He justifies.
"Its best not to be loved" her bowed head concludes in silence.
She lives up to her name
With a warm, sunny disposition
Warmth oozed from her with ease
In the reach of her hand
And the touch of her palm
In the tilt of her head
And the smile of her eyes
In the lilt of her voice
And the pout of her lips
Her face, a mirror to her soul
What she felt showed.
So if you saw her cold,
And feel unease,
Learn to see,
Through her eyes.
You will find,
A mile of unresolved thoughts,
A horde of un-forgiven deeds,
A hive of unforgotten trespasses,
With, layers of analysis, to get through.
For all her easy warm summers
There are those eerie winters.
So if you profess to love her
Remember to be the summer in her winters
And keep her warm with ease.
As much as I care about you.
As much as I love you.
As much as I enjoy doing things for you.
As much as I wish to erase the things that hurt you,
I cant.
I see the tear line your eyes.
And let my tears flow, in your stead.
While I will you strength, to carry on.
Hoping, you know I am here,
No matter where you are,
I will be thinking of you.
Its all I can do for you.
With all the dormant guilt
If I had a planet, built
It would be so heavy,
The solar system will need a levee
To stave off, its sinking pull.
My spirit wasn’t dead but quiescent
While he thought it deficient
A few years under his thumb
My spirit, felt like pond scum
That stuck under a wandering shoe.
There was latent rage
That was difficult to assuage
I stored it all, like white phosphorous
Waiting for ignition, was torturous
Relieved, as fire burned his world to ashes.
On my walk this morning,
A tree stared at me.
“I see you” it whispered
Asked me questions,
I didnt want to answer.
We starred at each other
For a while
Not wanting to be defeated
By its stare
I took its mugshot,
A proof of its rudeness
Saved for posterity
Captioned “I see you too!”
When I stand before you
Alone in our alone-ness
I suffer a sensory overload
Your eyes drown my thoughts
Your voice entices my being
Your lips make me yearn
Your hands make me yield
What I hold dear
My sanity, becomes insane
In that moment,
who I am, is forgotten
My mind's map becomes invisible
My voice is lost in silence
A part of me is torn
Between wanting to be Me
And melding with you, in one-ness .
Holding on to the tiny sliver of sanity
I turn my back and walk away.
When the distance blurs you
From my sight,
I sit down and pour what I feel,
On to parchments, of verse, prose or imaginings.
Its that kind of day
When life goes its own way
The Coffee had salt
I swear, it wasnt my fault
The knife fell on its tip
And my toe it did nip.
Hot oil flew out of the wok
Burning a hole in my sock
Dinner was charred
Shiny utensils, marred.
My brain took a walk
Lost its way back to the skull dock.
Its been that kind of day
I hunker and hope it doesnt stay.
In Her heydays
When power she could sway
She said “Boys will be boys”
When her son looked up the skirt.
When he stabbed the family cat.
When he slapped his sister for disobeying him.
In Her heydays
When power she could sway
She said “Girls ought to be like Girls”
Encouraging her daughter to act coy
Never to oppose the authority of the Male
Never to speak her mind, leave alone act on it.
In Her heydays
She let the son explore freedom with Freedom
She arrested her daughter with Honor
Son, the Heir, here to stay;
Daughter, the Honor, to give away.
In the Now.
She watches her life’s work unravel
As the Heir imprisons Honor,
In the name of freedom
She inherits the prison and loses Her honor.Dear Child,
I know you want to grow up
Grow up as fast as you can
Yet, I ask you
To use this as a lesson in patience
Growing takes time
There will be times when you grow on the outside
And times when you grow on the inside
Both are needed
No amount of hurrying will lessen that time.
I know you want to talk like older people
Use words that they use
Yet, I ask you
To not tax your tongue
Into saying what you dont understand
Words are precious and powerful
Take your time learning the words,
Learning their meanings,
So you can really mean what you say.
I know you want to look like an adult
Wear clothes like them
Yet, I ask you
To think through before you dress
Ask yourself -
Am I comfortable in these?
Is this appropriate for the occasion?
As sad and unfair as it is, clothes do make a (wo)man
Doors open or shut depending on what you wear.
I know you dont want to listen
To parents, when you have friends
Yet I ask you to stop and listen
Listen to the love and concern in their voices and words
Listen to their knowing of the world around you
They have experience, you havent yet earned.
They have lived longer than you, learned a thing or two
You dont have to do like they did
But stop and have a conversation with them.
When all is said and done
It matters not how fast you grew
but how steady a person you are
It matters not how many adult words you use
but how your words made the other feel
It matters not how fashionable you were
but how elegant your spirit is
It matters not how many friends you have
but how many touched your soul
It matters not if you didnt do what your parents did
but how well you did what you do
Its about how tall you can stand
When there is no applause.
Loving you always,
Your Mother.
It is just a cup of tea. It would remain just a cup of tea, if we didn’t ask any questions or ponder the expressions of those sipping from the cup. In a world where only the practical matter, it would be, Just a cup of Tea. But it wasn’t so in Ria’s world. In Ria’s world, a cup of tea had its own personality. It became a different character, depending on the type of tea, the people involved in making and drinking the tea. It created an ambience of its own. It had its own vocabulary, diction and dictionary, albeit without words. It had meanings which, outside world hadn’t yet grasped and probably never will.
As a child, tea meant the arrival of a guest. Usually an honored guest she hasn’t seen in a while; a guest, valued above her own family. Her family drank coffee, which at the time was the most common beverage of the South. Preparation of tea in the house meant the guest was of a higher socio-economic stratum than herself. Tea meant the royals have arrived. Everyone was in their best garb and behavior. There will be no raised voices, or un-necessary laughter. Just dignified conversation, with formal words, some so formal that Ria never knew their meaning. There will be the faint hint of perfume, lingering after the guest leaves and a wish that lingers in Ria’s heart that they would visit again so she could watch and imprint the mannerism of the royals. Of course, that was the excuse. The real reason was, to look upon the Handsome Prince in that family of Royals.
Over time, Ria understood that Tea had a versatile personality. As she entered her teens, tea meant an announcement of great importance, like India winning the cricket match or a marriage or birth announcement in the family. Her first cup of tea, meant she was now an adult. The presence of tea bound her to her classmates at the college cafeteria. It meant being able to talk to Professors and Lecturers in a cloak of maturity. Tea was the silent witness to meetings, peace makings and deal breakings. Sometimes the silence of the tea acted as the symbol for the silence of un-uttered words between people. Words like “Ah! It feels warm” that seemed too obvious to say on a cold rainy day; or “I hope you know I care” that is difficult to say to people whose ego comes in the way of humane interactions.
Serving tea was a means to sharing with people. At least until the tea is drunk, they will stay and spend time with you. Hopefully, share and exchange ideas and parts of themselves. Hot milky sweet tea early in the morning, iced lemon and ginger tea on hot afternoons, mint tea after dinner, shared with loved ones, neighbours, friends and family, in quiet togetherness. It was important to feel that human touch for however small a while, however shy you were and tea, was a perfect excuse, an asking and giving of ourselves without making it obvious.
Her wish for the visiting Royals was answered many times over. She continued to look upon the Prince hoping he would look upon her the way she did. The Prince maintained Princely dignity. He was polite, friendly and civil but kept an ambiguous distance. It was never lost upon her, that he was from a long line of tea drinkers and she was a common coffee drinker. The distance between tea drinkers and coffee drinkers, was the same as the distance between collective tradition and individual ambition. In communities like the one Ria lived in, what was expected and what she expected were never same. And she knew it well.
It was 4 pm the last time the Prince drank tea with her. It was the only time she ever met the Prince alone. Tea eased the awkwardness of that situation. It was then that Ria knew that the Prince was assigned his Princess. He spoke to her as he always did, in a friendly voice that did not betray that he knew of the pain that she felt except when he said with a faltering, trailing “If only you were a tea drinker….”. That was enough for Ria. She needed no elaboration from him. “Would you like some tea?” She asked. He looked up at her with eyes that hoped she understood, wished there was another way, wanted time to stop here and softly said “yes”. She made the tea and served it in silence. In their minds, their wordless thoughts overlapped each other. Their soul hands reach out to hold each other in a hug, the kind that didn’t let go. Their unseen tears mingled with each other, each heard the other sob and they comforted each other with sips of tea in silence. Outside their minds, calm reigned, all was in order, none wiser, conventions were in their place, protocols were followed and decorum maintained.
For the last two decades since that day, without fail, how ever busy the day was, at 4 pm every evening, the Prince drank tea alone in his study. It was protocol to let him be alone. With each sip of tea, he remembered Ria’s smile, her eyes and imagined conversations with her. While Ria served tea to her now husband at around the same time…wondering if the Prince still drank tea, and if he did, did it remind the Prince of her the way it reminds her of him? After all these years, one can't tell she isn’t royalty, for she drank tea, walked with an aura of dignity, spoke softly with formal words and never laughed unnecessarily, yet there was a feeling of something missing - The Prince by her side.
The Prince and Ria sip on the tea, enjoying their moment together, each day, unbeknownst to others around them. They were never apart.
It will take me a while
To go back in time
To when I didnt know you
When we walked alone.
You were a forgotten memory
way back in time.
It will take me a while
To go back in time
To when I didnt know your love
When we were happy by ourselves
You didnt exist in my world
way back in time
It will take me a while
To go back in time
To when I didnt know of the Ache
When spaces in my heart was filled
You were not a need
way back in time.
It will take me a while
A long, long while
To go back in time
way back in time.
Ria walks through the Bazaar. Amidst all the busy-ness of doing that needs to be done in a day, there is a vision of clarity. The times when we just Know without any proof, when we just Understand without any thesis, when we recognize the parts and its whole and BE. As she walked outside, the Ria within walks to meet her Self.
As she listens, somewhere within her, a warrior rumbles. The one that stands by the right, does the right thing, is fair and benevolent.
Somewhere within her, a saint awakes, knowing all is well. All will be as it is always intended. All will be as she wants it to be, shaping her reality without being aware of her creating.
Somewhere within a mother nurtures the children, born and those yet to be born. Lovingly she scolds, coaxes, sings and soothes them as they get through childhood. She cries when no one sees, hiding all her doubts and appearing brave while wondering – am I doing right by my kids, are they going to be alright as they grow?
Somewhere within a wife and lover does the only thing she knows how - to love this Person who shares her life. In her waking hours she thinks of him with a silly smile on her face. In her sleep she snuggles up to him.
Somewhere within a Teacher serves Truth, sweeping out ignorance within, helping learn about Self, building an understanding of wholeness.
Somewhere within a Student sees light, begins to understand and journeys towards Knowing the Truth.
Somewhere within an eternal child is curiously joyful. The child watches the butterflies sit and the hummingbird sip and the raven build its twiggy nest. The child listens to the owl hoot, the eagle screech as it glides, feels the grainy sand, touches the tadpoles in the pond and marvels at the wonderful world of slush and worms. In that child, time, lost its significance.
On the pavement along the busy streets filled with vendors, wares, colour and shoppers, a baby sleeps, in spite of the din around it. As Ria walks past staring at the peaceful baby, she sees that place within her, where peace exists.
She smiles in understanding, while the Saint looks on Peace, the Warrior stands alongside Right, the Merchant trades his wares and the Artiste plays different roles - mother, wife, teacher, student and child. Within all those space is She, the quiet Witness, watching, not judging; knowing, not influenced or influencing. She, is Light within this form, a Constant, Eternally in existence.
“She passed away”, said the voice over the phone. I knew who, without any mention of names or titles. I agreed and disagreed but let my agreement show with “I see” and buried my disagreement “She’s in me and in you, she passed yet she hasn’t” within the deepest caves of my being.
I wait for the heavy silence to make a noise…Nothing, absolutely nothing broke the silence, except for the lines click, breaking the connection.
Somewhere I hear the echo "This moment will have passed too, in a moment or two, Just as she did pass away, within my life’s span, this day"
So many others have passed too…without an acknowledgement of their passing. In the days of childhood was She; She, in my youth; She, in my memories; She, in my experiences; She, within the days of impulsivity; She, the nights of yearning; She, my dream star; She, my fickle desire, She, my obsessive ambition, all, now past. I count the ones who left without a whisper, yet the biggest noise was apparent in the way I passed away, in each moment, from what I was, to what I am only to become what I was. The seemingly unimportant, mundane times, that came in without fanfare and left without a farewell, or funeral, or wreaths or people in procession or tears of loss, marking the moments of my life. Yet, it was Her passing that brought these thoughts.
With each passing, I unconsciously record my history…I think it should be her-story. The things that shaped me are in those passing. What I am, became etched, like invisible tattoos, from those passing through, passed by and will pass by. I look back at how far I have come, how many I have lost, how many I left behind, digging into the records, only to realize, the far, was near, the lost, are found and the left, are with me. I understand, I cannot live from my history, I can only move forward, consciously making new pathways. I can only imagine a future and fervently wish its manifesting. I can only be in this Moment, and Know it will Pass. What I see, touch, taste, smell and feel become important, only because I know it will Pass and I can only hold on so long. And so, I feel grateful, for memories…and work at keeping them true.
Ria tries to keep her umbrella steady in the wind as she walks home from work in the rain. Monsoons arrived a bit early this year in her nook of the world. In the past week it has rained continuously due to a depression in the close by sea. Very apt name she thinks as she acknowledges the “not wanting to do anything” feeling she has been having the last couple of days. But nothing lasts forever, counters a voice in her head. How long is forever? She wonders. How much time does Forever hold? Does it mean from the time we become aware of time to the time we aren’t aware of time anymore? Are forever’s of different quantities for different people? Could Forever be Infinity? The Isha Upanishad has a verse describing Infinity - if we added or subtracted a part from infinity it would still remain infinity. If we added a day to the forever, we would still say Forever, never forever and a day. Forever must be the everyday word for the mathematical Infinity, Ria decides.
She smiles as she remembers the conversation she had with her friend Shrey who said “Just help me out this one time, and I will love you forever” and Ria replied “You said the same thing the last time you wanted me to cover for you”. And Shrey, the smart ass said “Ok, I will love you forever and a Day. So Please HELP!”. Of course, they laughed about it and she worked longer to help out anyway.
As she gets to bed that night, she wonders if she could sleep forever in One Night. And if she did, would the Night be longer than other nights?
In your long absence,
I kept my silence.
We meet again,
In emotional drought
Each in pain,
Playing our station's part
You asked me "Did you think of me?".
I said I didnt,
And Watch you walk away, hurt.
I hurt too, but was glad,
For if you stayed and asked,
Why I didnt think of you.
I would have told you
"If I did, I cant stop with mere thinking,
I will want to
talk to you,
see you,
hold you
and be with you."
If you listened to that
And stayed by me
It will be difficult for you.
If you left,
It will be difficult for me
So, I let myself be Silent.
Its that time of the year when I look back on the year that has passed. I could say “Its been a good year” Or “All is as it should be” and let it be at that…Hmm, maybe that isn’t a bad idea, after all what can I gain from re-hashing the last year. On the Other Hand, this could prove an exercise in seeing how much I actually remember, which will show how much I have been PRESENT.
The last year was tough for me in some aspects and easy on others. I missed my mother, the times we talked in the week. Looking back, I feel guilty for a few things…I wasn’t as Magnanimous as I wanted to be. I was petty in some aspects. I held on when I could have let it go. I spoke when I should have held my tongue. I got mad when I could have walked away. Instead of making choices where I am empowered, I chose indifference and apathy. All of the above leads to negativity and I had made it my goal to practice being more positive in the daily workings of my life. Of course, I can choose to feel guilty all the time or I can feel guilt once and then let it go. After all we don’t need to punish ourselves more than once for ONE crime. Note to self : Keep Practicing being Positive, instead of Thinking of being Positive.
I read a lot last year, but wrote very little. Hopefully, I will get around to doing the reviews of some of the books I read. I had lots to say about the different things happening around the world, but didn’t feel like saying it. At times I think its cause I am Lazy, at other times I think “What’s the point of saying it anyway? It makes too much noise when I voice it and Nothing will change, except for me expending unnecessary energy.” Note to Self : If you want to say something, just say and be done with it. Make it a discipline to write once a week or everyday for 15 minutes
I haven’t been productive on the financial front… It is something I need to remedy. I haven’t done any doodles or paintings or crocheted or made any jewelry. I didn’t exercise as much as I had set a goal to do. I did cook more than usual as I tried out making pickles and baked dishes(my nemesis, I don’t enjoy baking). I did Pranayama more. I went for more walks but it wasn’t regular. I practiced flute more but I am not any better at getting the count or the rhythm. Note to self : Just DO IT.
We had a fantastic Summer… I guess, it will be something to remember for a long while. We did quiet a lot of hiking. I was amazed at my children for staying with it and not giving up mid way on some of the hikes. We visited Lakes and water falls, we saw birds flying below us, deer in the wild, Turkey vultures in the wild. We experienced the silence of the woods, the sereneness of the lakes, the sunset at the beach. We visited Vancouver and Victoria. And come winter, we went on our first snow shoeing trip at Mount Hood. It was awesome as it was tiring. This was the only place we had to turn back before we finished the trek, cause my daughter wasn’t very happy with the cold creeping up her fingers and toes. We did archery a lot. I am a bad shot…I cant hit the bulls eye if it were staring at me. I wonder what happened to the shot that was me, could it be that my eyesight is failing? My children are better than me. Of course, my Husband is PERFECT :P.
I am going to hit the big 40 this year…I am trying to understand what the big deal is, when I really don’t feel the age and I don’t mean that I don’t have wrinkles or grey hair or times when I forget what I wanted to say, as I was saying it. I seem to be on a see saw…There are days I wake up thinking “Oh No! I am going to be late to school. I will miss my bus” and then there are days when I wake up thinking “Oh do I really need to get up, couldn’t someone else take over and leave me alone” But there are things that haven’t changed – I am very easily amused. I tend to see what others missed. I still choose to have peace. I still Live and Let Live. I still like to spend time alone. I LOVE my early morning Coffee. I love good stories, movies, books, poetry, sculptures. I still love the trees and flowers and still hate the feeling when I see the spider. I love sleeping in on cold days and waking up at the crack of dawn during warm days. I love the sunshine, the wind in my face. I still hate getting my hair cut. I still have an accent when I speak English and I still look typically Indian. My preferences in food, hasn’t changed- still cant stand milk and still love Indian food. Oh and Last but not least, I still have the SAME Husband , children, family and friends that I had last year *giggling*.
My family has been my source of joy. Yes, the dynamics in the relationship is changing. My children are becoming more independent, more opinionated, more knowing than I was at their age. My husband still makes me laugh, still listens to my late night rants and still makes me feel the extremes of emotions. My father makes me wonder if I wasnt switched at birth. My brother makes me swing between being grateful hes there and wishing he wasnt there. So the way I figured, I have HOPELESS relationships with Men *giggling*. Its the women in my life that keep me even keeled, head in the right place. Guess we cant have everything.
On the Internet, I have enjoyed some awesome reads, spoke to really Lovely People, Practiced speaking bits of Korean. To All my friends here on Multiply, Thank you! for being who you are. When you Write, leave comments, have conversations with me, you make my world a more beautiful place. I value your thoughts and comments. They show me parts of me I didn’t know about, they re-enforce the ones I knew, they help change the ones that aren’t helping me. I hope your visits here are as enjoyable as my visits with you.
This year… I am going to rewire my brain to change some definitions for words I generally use.
Abundance – it used to be “having as much as I need materially, emotionally, spiritually”. This year it will be “The ability to do what you want to do, when you need to do it” I want to remove the others in the equation… waiting on others is a path to disappointment.
Discipline – It used to mean “having a routine to incorporate all that needs to be done and strictly following it. If I cant follow it then there is some form of punishment”. This year it will be “Mastering myself to regulate my own conduct when needed to follow rules, my own and those that are conducive to a Joyful Life” I realize that the need for enforcement comes only when I am unable to be the Master of Myself.
Listening – It used to be “If I am free and interested in what you are saying I will listen”. This year it will be, “Listening, when you come up to me and wish to be listened to. Paying full attention, to the person talking, without looking at the time or letting my mind wander. Listening without thinking about the next thing I need to do, without any judgment or preoccupation.” I realize that most times, my brain is busy trying to figure the NEXT thing to do or get done, that when my children come to tell me something, I am half listening. I need to change that.
Now as this year moves ahead. I hope, in spite of what looks like chaos around us, ALL of us move through with the Knowing that at Any Moment all we need to do is BE All there. We have a choice in every moment to chose Harmony or Chaos, for peace is within us. To make it through with all of our Being, in whatever shape or form we are, to do our best. When we get to the end of this year, I hope, we can look back with more smiles than regrets and say “It was a Good Year”.
Thank you all for reading through and for leaving your thoughts. Have a Wonderful Year!
Peace
Rashmi
It is eighteen months, since your leaving
Eighteen months, in unseen mourning
I eat, drink, work, sleep and wake
Keeping the pretence of a serene lake.
I refuse to cry
I know not why
Lacking courage, to ever pry.
Walking in silence outside the door
Afraid to delve into the core
Shunning thoughts that crave my voice
Watching emotions that refuse my choice.
I wait for release
Bound by time's lease
Knowing you will always be, my memories.
