Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass ...
Its about learning to dance in the rain!!!
There are many things in life that will catch your eye
but only a few will catch your heart... Pursue those

This is my small effort to make you smile for a while...

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

I choose sound!

Moist trees ornamented with a zillion lush green leaves, I see them flutter. A flock of beautiful birds flew right across my window, I see those wings beat constantly taking them miles away. Little drops of rain pouring down constantly, I see the swell in fertility of everything around. Oh the world I see through my windows is sure to make one feel rapturous, but then I started feeling an inexplicable void. It took me long to realize that one thing which left all of these euphoric visuals insensate.

I stood there frozen while the restless mind continued with its endeavor to fill the void. As I slowly shook, my hands started caressing the window panes that which stood between me and all that magical world out there. Unconsciously I cracked those window panes open, a zephyr of cognizance gushed in. Oh, how I missed it! Indeed, I saw those leaves flutter, the birds flock and the pouring mystical rain, but then I did not hear them, I had missed the pitter patter of the world around me.

Ah, that noisy truck, laughter of the loud passersby, giggles of the kids playing around, yammering call of the pushcart vendor, squeaky bicycles, call it the sound, the noise, whatever for once it dawned upon me that it is the very essence of life. It is after being around in silence for long, I realize it is the significance of life happening around. Although the consistent grapple with noisy life makes one want to experience the blissful silence, its actually the buzz you will want to return to.

While I stand here longing to hear the noisy cousins giggle and gossip, loved ones chit chat, strange partially heard stories of passersby, I incontrovertibly choose the sound over the silence. After all, the absence of the most repetitious lub-dub is when the life ends.

Pic credit

Friday, January 20, 2017

The sounds of muffled cries

Exploring the unknown, a quest for unseen, insatiable urge to know more has always made us all leave our comfort zone and soar away from home. Not just us, every living being has evolved moving away from their comfort zone. Most break the bridges behind only to make sure there is only one path left and that's moving forward, but we humans no matter where we go we carry our home with us.

Life is a constant change of ideas, place, feelings, priorities, but with every new place we see, with every drop of fresh wine, with every new season, we are connected to home no matter where we live. As I sit and type down the chaos of a muddled mind, I always wonder who is at the deep end of reminiscence, is it me or is it the people I left back home.

With every success of ours, there is always at least 2 people who are genuinely happy for us and that's our parents. Being a mom myself, I wonder if there is a training to mask the pain and always put forth a positive valor like my parents do. I see them happy for us to have moved out of our comfort zone, I see them boldly accept that we are not going to be around them and possibly when they want us badly we are not going to be in the reachable distance. But none of this is neither put into words, nor expressed in feelings. Although there is no measure of wistful vibes, a gloomy day makes me wonder if I miss them more than they do!

When we miss something immensely, the world seems to take pleasure in reminding us more. A well groomed garden, a dish which turned out better, a smell of a medicine, aroma of a coffee and a melodious song always fills me with nostalgia reminding me of my dear parents who have put life in all these things. All of us who are away from home will surely understand the masked essence of the emotions I am pouring out here. We all carry a baggage of memories on our shoulder almost all the time. But yet our journeys continue.

Oh the etiolated memories come and go from a distant land, I struggle to hear them speak, I shake those memories to see if they are alive, but they say nothing, when I pause desolated by them I see them shimmer, all these memories seems to have a gift within them. A gift of holding the positive thought giving us strength to soar high, clenching all that matters very close to heart.

And again the phone rings, I see the same smiling faces, my heart is filled with joy and we talk, talk and talk. Just when I seem to have mastered the art of hiding all my emotions and put forth my happy face, they heard the sounds of muffled cries.

PS: This post is in response to a Topic Challenge - "Missing Parents" 

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

A doleful tale of a hairy vagina

Myself being eldest of the girl gang at home was obviously  introduced to the world of fashion and styling much earlier than the others and so the fashion guru for the little ones at home. 

All the little ones who followed me were ruthlessly introduced to look down upon women who wear sleeveless without waxing their under arms, unkempt eyebrows were not to be forgiven at all and women who desired not to wax their private parts were totally mocked and ridiculed. Girls were told how men like women who maintained, groomed  and portrayed themselves well. Yes, I put these ideas in their mind. Which the fashion world today nurtured it further.

Let's pause here a bit, so the whole idea of maintaining appearances by going through the torturous pain of hot wax being poured on our body and ripping it off the skin to flash the shiny arms enhancing the physical beauty which men like was suggested by me to my sisters and I was introduced by some other woman and so on and so forth. And so all the struggle undergone to look beautiful to men was never actually told by any men, at least not to me. I just blindly chose to believe and spread what my fashion guru introduced me to! 

So it's us who are defining the rules here. It's me and many women like me who laugh at the ones who dared to wear the outfits disregarding their physique, its us who laugh at somebody else's dressing sense, its us who were actively body shaming all throughout and how stupidly I kept blaming men for wanting all these every time a wax strip was ripped off my skin. Thinking of which, not once my husband has mocked about somebody's dressing sense, neither have 70% of my male friends, which is still a good percentage of the opposite sex I know! And at times I dread at the thought that it could be women ourselves, who introduced these as a facet of beauty to Men.

The guilt of not telling my younger sisters that how a kind attitude, a thoughtful insight, a bold valor to be competitive and to be independent, is much more beautiful and sexier than a shiny waxed body, will always be carried with me.The idea I put in my sisters' mind would surely have further propagated to many more and I now fear how many times I am cursed by a doleful vagina as the hot wax rips it off.

With this I make my new year resolution, I say no to any form of body shaming. I will never look down upon women or men for their choice of beauty interests . I promise to introduce beauty in a kinder way to the younger ones no matter a boy or girl. And surely my son will be introduced to see beauty beyond external appearances and also to appreciate all that women do to make this world beautiful.