SISTER'S FLOWER GARDEN

I re-discovered the essence of always trying and not giving up no matter how impossible or how unbearable or how different things turn out in the process. I figured that if you still have even a small fraction of your vision with which you set out to do what you are in the process of doing, it will turn out just like you thought and sometimes even better once you keep moving ahead with it. Perhaps I had to learn this in the simplest of tasks I did recently.

Remember mom when I told you about the painting that sister wanted to me to draw for her - a garden full of flowers. Well, I attempted it, formed the base, painted some flowery shapes. It looked very promising in the beginning and I was already happy with myself for at least setting out to do it rather than giving up before even trying, which I had been doing for some days already. Once I began to put in the details of the garden, I found myself hating the very sight of it. It did not look real or even close to a fake garden! I detested the very sight of it. I did not wish to go on. But I did. I don't know why but I kept on adding and trying out things. I did take few moments to just look at it and wish I had not done some things, not added certain colour or tried certain shapes. Yet I continued, experimenting and trying out things to make the shapes look like flowers. Once the flowers seemed real enough, the base started looking unrealistic. The flowers seemed to be plainly pasted. Still I continued; added some colours and tried different brush strokes.

As I was beginning to see the end of how it would finally look, I was as happy as I could be. I saw that my vision was coming true. And in fact no flowers looked as good as these in a garden that once was my hateful obsession. It was then that I realised, that when we set out to achieve our dreams we are very hopeful in the beginning but with time we begin to see no point in it and start detesting our own dreams when we look at the unfinished picture. We have dreams but we fail to see that our dreams from the time they are born undergo a metamorphosis going through stages of development which may not appeal to us, even frighten us at some point in time. It should not stop us from continuing on our walk towards achieving them. The believe in our vision should always be there. And we must keep on going. Only then are we able to see the butterfly of our dreams coming to life and taking flight.

I love you mom for showing me this through sister's what seemed like a childish and an improbable wish for a flower garden!

Love

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FEELING GOOD TODAY!

I guess I was really low when I wrote my previous post. But I am feeling quite good today. Must be the fact that I was working yesterday and it helped me get some fresh perspective.

Disappointments and frustrations do tend to come along in life but the point is to keep on moving ahead, no matter what. It's like walking back home or to a destination in some way. There are days when the weather is pleasant, the traffic is less, people you see seem happy and cheerful. Then are days when you are soaking wet in the rain or soaking wet in sweat, muddy roads and irritated people, every step is a feat in itself. And on both occasions, I have always moved along at the same pace, whether or not my foot hurt or I was enraged or irritated myself. I have always kept more or less the same pace.

That is what I am doing now with my life as well. To let it move on pleasantly or not-so-pleasantly. The important thing is to reach. It's a huge sigh of relief once you do. The whole body gives up then, all the pain and suffering come to the fore, you can feel it all through your body. Your mind is no longer shielding the pain for you. You now rest and give your full attention to the wounds, if any and hope it heals soon before the next walk begins.

I hope I did not give you much trouble with my previous thoughts. If I did I am sorry about it. I love you a lot and will always carry you with me, knowing you will be keeping me close to your heart as well and keeping me safe.

Love

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THINGS ARE NOT CLEAR, MOM

Things are not clear, mom. I have been in this phase for sometime now. For most part I think it's the fear. Now that the problem has been identified another problem is nagging me: what to do next? How do we go about trying to solve the problem? I feel this sense of complete numbness, as if I am paralysed and cannot even move an inch. I have ideas and thoughts that hover around my mind and they seem pretty good, if only they were acted upon and executed. An invisible chain seems to be tied all around me restricting any movements at all. So, all that I am left with is BIG and GRAND ideas, mocking at me all the time.

I don't know, mom. I feel I can do it. But next moment I am doubting again. I don't see myself pushing for it real hard. I don't see myself investing every ounce of my self into it. And I fear I will just end up doing what I always tend to do with most of my writings - leave them incomplete after a vigorous start. I am wanting passion in my life. I am needing believe in my life. I have seen how for things you believed in you worked passionately with all your heart. You would never give up. I am so much like you in so many ways. But how I wish I could be more like you when it comes to this.

I have fear, fear of the uncertain, fear of the failure. I have no passion, no passion for life or for living. I lack in believe, my believe system has hit rock bottom, it's almost dead. I hardly find any reason that I can come up with to live convincing or reasonable enough. I am worse than you mom. You are dead but I am feeling already dead alive.

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THE WAY YOU LOVED, MOM

I never really got to talk to you about love and relationships. The only thing remotely concerning love or more appropriately a crush, was when you caught me writing a love letter to my classmate in sixth standard! I also knew you had an inkling about my going around with a certain Miss A during my last year in school. But we didn't really discuss about it. I guess we never really connected in those terms at least for the most part of our relationship, during my school and early part of college life. When we did talk about anything and everything, well almost, I was single (as I was for most of my life).

My perception of what love is and how it makes one feel had a drastic change after you passed away (it's still so hard to write about you as someone who's not there). I always thought love lasted long enough, like in books or films, lovers continuing to love their lost ones so much so that there is no place for anything or anyone new. But that wasn't to be. Things changed rather drastically and how. I even doubt if at all there is something or anything like love. But I know there is because I have seen it in your eyes and read it in your words.

I have loved mom, despite my doubts and cynicism, I have loved. Tragedy is it has never worked out the way I thought it would or even lasted as long as I had hoped it would. When I look back and try to make sense out of it, thinking maybe it didn't work out because I wasn't completely into it being a skeptic that I can be most of the times, but that's not the reason. I have completely immersed myself into it whenever I was in love. Maybe my way of loving is the reason. But I only know one way of loving and I am pretty much sure that is what loving is all about - truly caring for the person you love by trying to bring more smiles on their faces than lines of worries and sadness. There is no high like the high of seeing the one you love happy. Maybe I need to be more selfish and less sacrificing. Problem is I have never viewed whatever I did to be a sacrifice at all, if it was it sure was worth it.

I wish you could tell me how you loved all those years, how you survived the lows and stayed afloat and how you coped with the imperfections and created perfect memories. I wish you were here to listen to me and share the wisdom with me. I wish you were here to teach me how to love, like the way you loved. I wish you were here.

Love

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HOME IS NOT HOME WITHOUT YOU

I just spoke to sister and it got me thinking about home. Never put much thought into it while you were around but have been missing it for sometime now. The idea of home for me was you and all of us in it together. That was home. Now we are all living in different parts of the globe, in different houses, even different time zones and experiencing different seasons.

The worst thing is when I went back home after a long time, I still failed to feel at home. I have been struggling with this thought, a search for home, for feeling at home again. The reason I had not gone back home for so many years was for the simple fact that I did not want things to change in my mind for I knew it was changing back there. New people, new walls, new ceilings and new floors. I now find it hard to remember sometimes how it all really was when I go back home. Things change and they change rather much faster than you had time to adjust to it.

The idea of having a home now is comforting and consoling. But I am not sure if it would be so in reality. I have seen too many ideas turning into harsh realities that I have become much more of a cynic than I was before. Now I am skeptical about even the most certain things!

I guess, a home no matter how big or small or comfy or dull, it would never be complete for wherever you were it was home for us. Without you nothing seems to give us the feeling of being at home, anywhere, not even at home.

I missed my home terribly tonight. I missed you terribly tonight.

Love

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PAINTINGS AND EXPECTATIONS

Few weeks back I tried to paint you out of my memory. I knew that I could never make myself to try and draw your face. I am scared I will not be able to do so. So, that has been off limits. I had an idea of what I wanted to convey and how I wanted it to look like. One day, I took out the canvas, the fine paint brushes sister got me and the colours. I called the painting 'Heaven'. It's a painting of your feet, with three chrysanthemum flowers placed around it representing the three of us. I read somewhere about how Heaven or Paradise really is the land beneath the mother's feet and that's what I wanted to show. The idea was put onto canvas but I have to admit my skills as a painter pretty much made sure that it wasn't executed the way I had envisioned it. When sister saw it she was like 'those are such ugly feet, mom had such beautiful feet' and I completely agree with her. So you see, attempting just to draw your feet was such a disaster I can't imagine even trying to draw your face. You know, I had tried to sketch you once but the picture looked more and more like a stranger than you so I stopped and didn't even complete it.

But I haven't been able to paint after that. I know I should at least try and do some other stuff like the 'flower garden' sister wants me to draw. But I am so bad with the brush to draw such fine stuff like flowers in a garden. It needs attention to details, the right brush stroke to create the petals, the leaves and the stalk. Maybe I am just finding excuses!

It is so hard to deal with the expectations of others, let alone your own. And I have too many expectations of my own and from my own self (hardly have any from others!) that I fear to even think of trying. If I manage to think about it, I hesitate to work towards it. If I start working towards it I think of several other things to do so that I stop doing it. If I still persist, when the moment comes to seize the opportunity I just decline, flat. Just like that. Earlier I used to find it tough to say 'No', but now the problem is saying 'Yes'.

I guess more than anything or anyone else, we ourselves are our own worst fears and nightmares and if given a chance the best friend and guide. I wish you could tell me what to do. But I do know what you would have said. I guess I am just pretending not to hear, like the time when you once warned me the glass would fall if I didn't place it properly and after a moment it fell down and broke into pieces. Then I realised you were right and I should have listened. I still haven't changed, have I mom?

Miss you. Goodnight.

Love

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THURSDAY, 27th MAY

I am listening to my favourite songs, sitting in my room and writing down notes and poems and I thought of you, so decided to let you know. I have always been some kind of a loner. I guess you already know. I loved having my own room contended in my own small world. Ever since we moved to our own house and I got a separate room, no matter how small it was, I was really happy about it, especially after having shared a room with sister all the while and with a whole lot of cousins and aunts back in the village.

I can clearly see the room: wooden bed with traditionally embroidered mosquito net, wooden clothe-hanger, a cupboard-cum-table, a Phillips auto-reversal tape recorder, a black table lamp, a book-shelf and my stationery. And of course the window which opened up to the main gate outside. I have spent so many hours sitting by the window, looking out while listening to songs on the radio, trying to tie down thoughts and ideas on paper, and waiting for you to come home from your shopping bringing some jalebis or samosas depending on the popular demand of the evening. The moment you come, we'd all go rushing out taking the bags of vegetables and all with us inside. After giving you a glass of water, we would go through the articles, keeping them in their proper places. In the meantime, either sister or I would prepare the evening tea to be had with our samosas or coconut biscuits.

Evenings really were the best time of the day. A time when everyone was at home. We were back from school or college. Father was back from his office. And you were back from a visit to the neighbour down the road or aunties near the market with the shopping articles. Sister would narrate her day in detail right from the time she reached school to the classes and classmates, what all she did and what all others said to her. While brother and I narrated the summary of our day, and sometimes just the headlines. I miss those chaotic evenings more harmonious than the silence of the evenings which sometimes come visiting these days. I haven't had jalebis or samosas in a long time. I think I will have some this evening, even if all alone. You would be there, wouldn't you?

Love

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