Tuesday, 20 February 2018

The Faraway Tree

Neem: Azadirachta indica


Is a year too long between blog posts?

Maybe I am developing, inadvertently, a yearly ritual where I take a pilgrimage of sorts, into the past. A homage to nostalgia, maybe.I have always been a sucker for romance.

Or it could the perpetual grey outside my window, dressed in droplets left behind by a listless drizzle. In the olde country we call it rain. Or maybe it is the guilt of not doing enough  as I work from home.

Home.

Of late I have been dwelling on that word. Of late being all my life. Home has been so many places, so many people. Some existing now only in my memories. I am home too, to my little boy and his father. I am still not brave enough to offer them a similar burden. Is courage I lack or Trust? Either way, I am not ready, yet.

For now, I will settle to calling our brick house in this grey city, home.  It's cozy, gets enough sunlight, it is littered with toys, plants and giggles;  it's where my son is making his own memories...taking steady steps (OK leaps) into his future.

But every now and then, the heart beats to a different rhythm. The one that beats far away, in another grey city, with its loud noises, and louder horns, dulled in the cradle of green and squat concrete that my grandfather built under the shade of the neem he planted.

Wednesday, 22 February 2017

Auld Lang Syne redux

"I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were." -Joan Didion

Any blogging expert will tell you that a blog's viability lies in its USP.  My blogs have none, at least none that I recognise. They are self-indulgent online journals where I try and find my voice and in the process giving you, the reader, glimpses into my life; hopefully hold a mirror, here and there, once in a while.

When I started out with this one, it was a means to cope with a lot of newness then in my life - marriage, cohabitation, change of country, unemployment, and all the pushes and pulls that come with change. Laughing or attempting to laugh at the settling in took the sting out of the challenge of accepting change. Yesterday I found another use of virtual diaries  - time travel. Looking back at the posts, they  took me back to a time, and the then me...someone who, till today, I had not realised I had missed.

What brought me back to my debut blog was the chatter y'day around International Mother-language daynand I was reminded of this post that I wrote moons ago. From here I went to the chronicles of the first few days of my marriage - the laughs, the heartaches, the lessons, the blahness, but in all that I found something that I never appreciated in myself- the willingness to hope, a certain lightness of being, to find humour where there was none and to keep trying no matter what. Qualities I seem to have left by the wayside in the last few years for many reasons.

One of the major shifts was motherhood. It came with its gifts, and its lessons. It was now time to process new emotions offline. There were others things too that added to the curriculum. On the upside, I learnt to take my time looking for words to match what I was feeling. I became more private, less apologetic; joy now is more precious and less selfish. On the other hand life feels a wee bit heavier, a bit too serious.

Reading the old posts did not evoke nostalgia of the days gone by but of the person I used to be. If only I knew then how much I would miss her, I wouldn't have let her go (now I know how my exes felt! Kidding).

Maybe the answer to current ennui is not picking up yet another creative assignment but invoking a certain state of mind - the one that allowed me to find humour in the unlikeliest of places. Maybe its time to bring her back - that funny, sometimes silly and (almost) always hopeful person; she was after all, me. 

Saturday, 28 January 2012

Once upon a time in the summer...

... of 2011, V and I went up and down the English roads to catch the beauty of the countryside. The experience has been chronicled in a travel article that I wrote for the Sunday magazine of the New Indian Express. If you'd like to read the piece online, head here.
Ciao for now.