A little lost

After a gap of a year I met an old friend from school. Its been a rather strange friendship, one that does not lend itself to daily chats or coffee meetings but a friendship where one meets, connects somehow knows something core about the other and then orbits off into their own world only to reconnect somehow sometime later again.

Today before I write anymore I feel compelled to share a little more about her.

She for me is the gypsy horse. Wild. Free. Loyal. Determined and restless to carve her path in her own way and pace. Has always been that an explorer who lives in methods that make sense. Ok I shall demystify.

For the past few years she has been devoting time to doing the only things in life that truly matter. Learning to grow food and build houses. Prime needs of man are food and shelter and its shocking how little we often know about these. By itself both are worlds unto themselves, add to this an additional layer to make it more compelling. Make it sustainable organic agriculture and rammed earth based housing. Remove the setting from the ease of a city to the interiors of small states, where seeing a lady from the cities till the earth and work in the fields is unheard of.

ok fine, so she has made unusual choices when it comes to her work. So what? lots of people can do that.

That isn't the point. In the conversation yesterday, there was a difference to herself. She had reached something definitive in her. A space of knowingness- a space of belongineness inside. This inner zen was a mixture of several things. Her meditative practice getting more grounded, her quest to heal giving more outlets, her work finding a source of fulfilment -- No as i write this there was something far simpler far easier that there was to it

it was the charm of a person who was living inside out. peacefully.

In our afternoon chat, we didn't get a chance to dive deeply into what really was going on in the other persons life. Yet her few basic questions got me off guard. - So what do you want to do? What makes you happy? Where does the passion lie?

I gulped. I gulp even now. I know at some level or rather I feel at some level certain changes in me that have come in the last year or two. Slowly they have snuck up and made a home for themselves in me.

I need to confess that at this point in time, at a deep core level I don't know what I want from my life. I have dreams - candy floss types - you know the - one day I shall travel the world. Or the flimsier I shall do a masters to understand the human body mind and energy connect. Or say, I shall be a marathon runner. Statements that I know don't carry an inner conviction or zeal.

At some level I feel like Rip Van Winkle or Kumbhkaran, waking up from a deep sleep and feeling disoriented.

Ha how I romanticise. Its even cruder.

I think its how the last few months of 'survival mode' based living has sucked some deep level of energy out of me. For the now things that were passions or dreams have been dumped in the for later bucket. Thinking as a mom has replaced thinking as an individual. As I write I realise that this is bullshit. Circumstances don't make a person, a person maketh the circumstance. Or the whole I am responsible for what I have created line of thought comes and mocks me.

I see that line and I shut up.

Reality is that right now - what I want is some form of stability. If this comes with additional trimmings that is fine. That isn't the point of this therapeutic type of writing either. Its for me to ask what do I want? Deep down truly what are my desires. Guess its fair to state that I am no longer sure and work from there.

A few years ago there was a different urge in me to do and be plugged into more worlds. I read a larger funnel of books. I met a larger more diverse set of people. Movies were not the block busters but things that were sought out. There was a learner a creator living inside. A fearless being.

I miss that person.

At the same time its true that that younger me craved family. personal stability. home. a child. For these blessings I thank the universe everyday. It has grounded me. Rocked me and given me the warmest blanket of love to carry around.

I feel like I need to return to the inner space, finding the inner voice. a guidance to guide. Otherwise yet again in the haste to do more there shall be noisy events, hobbies, dinners and more - I shall become a person that a younger me promised to not become. A person who ebbs away.

Reading Brian Weiss these days - person after person regresses. Lives, experiences lifetimes of pain and joy. Some were the Nazi guards, some the prisoners, rich, poor, lifetimes ago or more there was always a lesson in the life we lead. Often it was something basic. learning to forgive, learning to let go. Or learning that its there is love everywhere.

Yet as I write this. I am loved. A dog is lovingly cajoling me to come for a walk, my little one is bouncing up and down on the bed next to me kissing my face. Love and…… ?

;0 To lives that always leave us wondering. Think a time to center approaches once again.

note from a younger me to me.
- in the infinite of life everything is whole and complete

Conjuring up 2014

Its December, the time of the year that lends itself to an afternoon spent in an armchair, gazing out at the view, with the nip of winter making you huddle a little deeper into the chair pulling the softness of the shawl tighter. Curling your feet in below your hips and warming your hands around the cuppa of hot cocoa. 

Well none of the above is happening. I am instead plonked on a friends couch on a warm sunny day nursing nothing except the desire that there was a shred of winter in the air and a determination that there is value in the power of intention. What you seek is what you shall get. 

What then do I conjure for myself for 2014, not as resolutions but a desire list of things to achieve. 

By this time next year, I am sitting in a warm armchair snug and warm looking out at the view of the green landscape and the willow tree as it holds on to its last leaves, smiling at how many things on this list came through. Burrowing my nose in the blue muffler tickling my nose, I watch my daughter play with her cousins and marvel at the sync that created these moments.

I grin at my excited nervousness at taking the first flight internationally for work, my gawkiness at making sure that I was well dressed, eating well with the spoon and fork, making no faux passes and hoping that I managed to a good job of it. Flying like a business executive and getting the hostess to hang my coat was a mini kick by itself. Images of the niceness of the team I met greet me, the evening drinks that wasnt the stiff affair that I thought it would be but a warm melting pot of showing off each one the other kids pictures. Oh how I missed my T then.

Work, the place where I am starting to get a sense of completion and accomplishment. The small things that I wanted are there, the coffee machines, ac, laptops, the room, the plants in the office, the set of colleagues who are there and friendly, conference rooms and a clear role of getting things done. The payouts are regular and consistent, and happy. Benefits and trainings, family day and cribbing about the canteen ka khana. For sometime, the routineness of it may be something to look forward to.

T has grown up into a talkative little monster. Running up and down the house, she loves going to the park and hanging out with the children. Happiest when troubling Paul or playing with the bunnies in the play school, or snuggling between us. She is my happy dappy sunshining little spot

Mummy me is also doing justice to person me. New New New, 2014 has been all about new. New house, new friends, new social life, new forums I am writing for, new formats of yoga, new lenses, and photo styles, new healing community that I plug into.

The few concrete things that I can tick off the list are
- Visited 4 new countries, 2 of them on work
- Got a job which I like and is sustaining my interest and vica versa
- We have a club membership, where I am learning squash, and swimming. I am doing much better with that
- the short dance class was an eye opener. I am still gawky but am learning to let go a little bit at a time
- Cross training and the Bhava Sampadana

M and me rediscovered the silliness of life. Indulgences mixed with responsibilities giving us lesser knots in the tummy

Expanding my horizons of what I know and what I dont know. allowing Manuel to lead us as a family, the new car, and taking the trip with mom to thank her for her un ending support. The spectacular time we spent in Malaysia, and the Germany trip with tara and oma ops

It was a year of Growth. The company grew, we grew as people in our definition of responsibilities, and made a year of pheeeww. This works.

Appreciating Bangalore

I am going to live in Bangalore for a long time. If not Bangalore India for a long time. I have not had the balls to say that simple statement and let it be. To accept it without feeling a sense of dread creep up.  Its time to say - make lemonade my lady with the Bangalore/ India lemon in your life.

For starters instead of constantly feeling that the grass is greener on the other side, I am going to list down the things that make sense for me as a person in Bangalore. What are the pluses here that I can need to acknowledge and appreciate.

This is my motivational list. List down the worlds that I am glad to be a part of, worlds that I have no clue about and worlds that I would like to get to know.

So dear adopted city of mine, I am rekindling my love affair with you, permission to flirt?

20 things to love about this city in complete random order. Also my comparison benchmark in Delhi, so excuse the lowness of the threshold.

1. The weather. - Enough said. For most of the year it allows me an outdoors if I choose so
2. The supermarkets that sprout everywhere, making the trolley based shopping so simple 
3. the casualness of the dressing, Sometimes the sloppiness is border line too much but the ability to be you simply overall
4. the fact that there are friends who are like family and that they live close by
5. cheap south indian food. bhajji wallas, idlis in the morning. 
6. rangolis made by neighbours on the front porch. leaves me with a feeling of old india every morning
7. proximity to run away to green spaces within a 2-3 hr drive
8. the huge circle of healers and sincere practitioners who live so close by
9. the outdoor cafes and resteraunts
10. so many music hubs, the new theatre scene, comedy scene, the ability to do more if one moves up
11. yoga clubs. so many everywhere
12. Active meetup groups
13. the start up vibe, means that you can work in a small place, wear pajamas, loll on bean bags and its perfectly acceptable
14. nice pet shelters
15. Lalbagh, a small hole of sanity
16. The sense of cultural mix that is effortless churches standing next to mosques, and temples next to churches
17. Availability of fresh beef. I am a vegetarian, still makes it easier to feed my husband
18. number of expats living and settling in at home, makes the mixed couplesness very very normal
19. air asia flies out of here!!!!!!! yeyeye!!! and so does Tiger airlines
20. its home. its from where i shall grow. to getting to bitch about you less and like you more
21. availability of maids!

For now this should be what I should focus on, while i will try heard to stop the dream machine of my brain to stop thinking of the possibilities of living in cities where there are there parks, swings that work, public transport that is safe, paved roads, clean air, walking areas, a culture that fuels work and personal growth, new undiscovered outskirts, food not eaten before, activities not undertaken before. 

I shall try to polish the old and get it to shine brighter and brighter

and bury the make believe in a sealed box.

Today is what counts. 

Nameless

What are your dots? What are your lines?
How are you living... what troubles your mind?
Who is your confidant?
Who is your friend?
what are the dreams you are letting go off
What dreams are you willing to mend?

when will you wake up
and realise the time has come
To shake off the disbelief, dust off the crumbs
the mirror lies, all that you see, isnt all that there is
There lies inside, an restlessness, a zeal a yen

Lying in the morning, are you waking up alive
is there fire in your belly
a determination to succeed
or a silent force that is forcing you to pay heed

I ask because I am lost for the now
Voiceless, Passionless, Zealness
Not sure what to chase
Not sure how
Know that today cant be all that there is,
But dont know what else, where and how

I read too much. Haven't read enough
I dreamt too much. Haven't lived enough
I thought too much. Haven't risked enough
I cried too much. Haven't laughed enough

Its not a lament, nor is it a whine
Its a reminder to myself
Get up. Wake up. Shake yourself and smile
There is so much to do
There is only so much time
Stages come, phases come
Changing in an neverending dance
Sometimes its slow, sometimes not
allow its rhythms to play
Dont change in the middle of the song

Belief and Strife. Be you. Be true
Let go of the safety lines
Something shall happen,
trust the divine.

Letting Go

Today was a normal day with normal things cluttering up time. Amongst the numerous things on the to do list, most of them trivial daily things was to share pictures of a dear aunt. (aunt sounds like such a formal distant kind of a term.. far away, like a strange pearl necklace wearing person with perfect hair) she wasnt an aunt but more a cute cuddly granny rolled into a friend. 

My cute cuddly granny rolled into an aunt had passed away last week. Last weeks, I had acknowledged it, but sitting in another city I somehow didnt get it get it. In my head, she was right where I had met her last. In her room, by the bed, with the light streaming in having her afternoon chai with the three marie biscuits....

As I rummaged through the snaps taken on that normal afternoon, doing random nothings it somehow struck me. There were no more snaps to take. There were no more random afternoon chais to have, there was no goodbye I got to say.

What did I say to her that day as we left? I dont remember. Did I hug her tight? I dont remember. 

A tear rolled down as I wrote these lines, she remains in my mind right there grinning her happy smile. 

Tell me about her, my husband just asked as he saw me shed my tears. 

I smiled. Where do I share? Where do I start?

She was summer. In her cotton sarees and smell of talc she sat in her house in Kolkatta beating the heat below the fan. Every summer holiday night, when we visited Calcutta, my mom would escape - being a mom- and run into her sister in laws house for a voracious gossip session. We kids were sometimes allowed to join in and sometimes were left with Uno and carrom for company. 

The nights we were allowed to sneak in was lovely. We all plonked down on the cool red floors and tuned into the adult banter that was oh so much fun. Inner family dealings were discussed, advice shared, childhood tales of everyone heading to Victoria for a late night kulfi crammed in one Ambassador laughed about for every year. Every year they talked about the days when Petrol was Rs 2 a litre and exchanged notes on how the old friends were doing. 

All this, while possibly there was a mini party on in the living room, where someone else was hanging out. I was too young to understand that my aunt wasnt ordinary, she was an exception to the rule. She was open in her thoughts in how she raised her family and how she handled crisis. 

Standing now, I can appreciate just what a rebel she truly was. 

Its strange - how we can never see the person in front of our eyes as a younger version of themselves. I wonder will my daughter connect to my teenage years. I see pictures of my parents, standing in bell bottom pants and think of them as different people than the mom and dad I know. You see people only in the mould that you cast them in. Dadi, nani, papa, mumma are who they are. They are not people with fears or insecurities, at least they weren't in my head like that for a really long time. 

Writing this I take solace in all the Brian Weiss books that I have been reading. That souls travel together and we meet over and over again in different ways and for different reasons. Maybe soon she shall be here again, maybe we meet again this time as friends in a college campus. The possibilities are endless.

For now, for today. I need to say goodbye. I miss you, your presence and your joy. Your wisdom and the - saab cheek ho jayega - vibe. Your silence and your knowledge. Your laughter in the night. The cordless phone and the unique 'haaallooo'. the chai and the sarees, the dhai alloo subzi, ganga ram and the rain, my childhood is linked to you. Beta tension mat le, your counselling sessions and patient hearing. To being the my surrogate granny. thank you. 

Miss you. 

bucketing it

We sat down in the middle of a fancy club house. The agenda of the night was to make our bucket list. To ape the concept promoted by Hollywood and list down that which we thought we really wanted to achieve in life.

There were only two rules.

Rule 1 - That we would out down on the list things we really really really deep down wanted to do
&
Rule 2 -  Every year we must aim to attain at least one thing from this list. If we were not getting down to crossing one thing off the list then either the list was bullshit or the life was bullshit.

The intention set. We started out.

Fight 1- Excel or Word.
Person one could think best when an excel sheet was spread out before him. coloums, filters ability to set timelines, numbers made sense. Person 2 looked at the boxiness of an excel sheet and the brain froze in the maze of structure unable to think freely.

A compromise was reached. First step of free thinking would be done in excel and step two of detailing in excel.

Cool.

Word document opened. The pair proceeded to vomit out the deep desires that had been stored for so long and needed no thinking. Cliches poured out - Travel to 1,2, 3, 4... 10 different places. Learn the guitar, be a part of a band. Buy a house, see the making of a beer factory, do this, learn that, experience this.

The pauses soon became longer than the comments. The list felt rudderless. Anchorless. We sat back and asked ourselves - is this it? is this really what we want to do? sky diving and walking through the Amazon.

I feel a little small in my own eyes. The bubble gum philosophy of Paul Cohelo and the Alchemist came back to haunt. What did I truly want? What was the impact that I could make? Was life to be lived only for the sake of my gain and my experiences?

Yes Indeed. Person 2 retorted. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Do what you want to do. Be what you want to be. Legacy, Impact. Power, Making a difference - is all good and fine but eventually they too fade. Maybe they are remembered for the next 20 yrs, maybe 50 but then its gone, discarded and disappeared. Even is its remembered forever and ever what is the point of being heralded in the long run. You become mis qouted and mis understood. From the Tipus to the Jesus the real person remains lost and unknown.

There was a point to that. Besides he rationalised. If there is no great passion or a cause that beckons one from the insides of your soul, its best to acknowledge that and do what you can to live a true happy life. This isnt to be mistaken for becoming a boring person but instead living in a way that you keep learning, experiencing, living it up.

The other side were voices that I heard from others. What is the purpose of life if there is no difference made to others? You are not remembered for doing things that you were expected to do. Ask yourself the legacy question. Create a ripple of change. Help. Live a life of passion, all of this came up

At a recent job interview, the interviewer threw up the ; what are you willing to take the pain of life up for question. The most important question to ask question.... and I truly have no honest answer. At some level this annoys me, at some level this is what I have come to expect to be ok.

Deep down I dont know. I remain a seeker. There is no point to the post really. There are only questions that I can ask myself. What do I really seek, what do i really need. The candid admission is that I dont at this moment in life need much, what I seek is what remains a mystery.

to having the courage to ask myself some important questions soon

Love and Fear

Love and fear are two sides of the same coin.

This is a line that I had heard often and never really understood.

Now I am beginning to get a sense of it. A few years ago, life was lived fearlessly to a large extent. Living it on your own terms, doing things that you wanted to because you wanted to do it. Fear was scoffed at. If it existed it was minute in scope. it was the fear of reaching office late, fear that maybe the traffic cop would catch you or fear that your mom would find out exactly where you were. 

Living took over fear completely. Everything was an adventure. Walking down a high mountain pass in sheets of rain without a torch - ooh brave. Insisting on travelling alone, joining groups of people you may not know well before to explore the mountains and hills, letting conversations become longer friendships was increasing your life space. Fearing a new place, a new city, a new experience were not emotions that existed.

Letting the present moment dictate the next is something that I got, appreciated and revelled in. 

I dont know when that changed. I have a lurking suspicion that motherhood has got something to do with it. As a mother things are just different. In the past months I am gripped by an irrational fear that something can happen to me, my child or my spouse. The fear comes in the smallest fraction of time and like a mini typhoon keeps picking up momentum till its like a helicopter churning all thoughts in the same direction. 

Something has happened to him Something has happened to him.

The fear comes from being scared. From a deep rooted fear of life; of living without someone who you depend on, fear of how you shall carry on once your core goes. 

Its gets even more detailed, this typhoon induced fear. I fear being a single parent, I fear how my little one will be, I fear how I shall manage, I fear my life.. alone. 

Recently, a close family friend lost her husband just like that on a sunny afternoon. One minute he was assisting in installing a home theatre system and the next he was gone. Life changed. Fundamentally. Permanently. The other person was left there, wondering how to cope, what to do. 

She was left grappling with empty evenings. A desire for a conversation those rambling simple agenda-less ones. You crave a presence in the house. A breath linked to yours as you breathe..deeply asleep. A hand to hold as gears are shifted in a car, a random hug as you scramble eggs. A person who dreams your dreams, understands your fears and is something so much much more than a lover or a friend can ever be.

Your immediate family is your mirror. Someone you stand vulnerably in front of every single day with all your faults and with all your perfections and hope that they still shall shower you with love in return. 

The typhoon grows stronger. Relentless. I call his cell phone relentlessly. Feeling with every call the fear that must have gripped my mother and my father as they did the same exact thing - calling and calling me, when I as a teen ager and young adult would simply forget to answer my calls, leave the cell in the car, leave it on silent in the bag and then roll my eyes in horror when the screen would show 10 missed calls from them

I now understand the apprehensions a lot more. 

Hearing the voice on the other side brings a tidal wave of relief. He's ok. We are ok. I am ok. Thank you. Gratitude flows from each part of your being and you cherish the small moment of holding him tight when he comes home a little more. You know that you are being irrational, a mini stalker, a total fool. It does not matter. All that does matter is that is that everyone is safe and ok.

love comes with fear. Only now it makes sense. 

Only it makes no sense. As a single woman at some level I think I was far stronger. I relied on myself for everything. Financially, emotionally, physically I was my own comfort blanket. Others came and went but the comings and goings did not leave crater sized voids in your soul. Only as a single woman I felt one void deeply, the void of a lover, a mate, a partner. 

Depending on someone has been a tough lesson to learn. In my 20's learning to not depend was the core lesson. To be independent. Strong. Alone. Sole. To make it on your own terms, all of it a lofty goal.

Today these same values have taught me how to depend, how to be strong while not being alone, how to be who you are while pushing the other become all that they set out to be. To allow yourself to be taken care of and know that its allright, to let go of the deep need to earn for your keep and still feel valued. To change how I define myself and cherish the change. 

Having a family has changed me. 

It has wrapped me in love

and layered me in fear. 

I can only pray that this does not change. Ever.

'Resume'ing my life

Yesterday my to do list looked something like this.
- Redo resume
- list top few places I would like to work
- Make an affirmation list - belief is the key
- list placement agencies to apply through

Today my to do list looks something like this
- Redo the resume
- list top few places I would like to work...
.......
.............

The resume. The C.V. The succinct document that in two brief pages, and well drafted bullet points describes you, your journey, achievements, skills, interest, hobbies, languages, age, marital status, desire and cajoles the other person into meeting you.

Guess, 2 pages seems like a luxury compared to the 2 lines of a matrimonial ad, but nonetheless there is this Himalaya sized resistance that I need to tackle each time it comes to resume updating time.

The process itself is simple. Take samples resumes, list down what you have attained and plonk it down in an order that makes sense.

But its so much more.
and I excel at making it worse for myself

Gritting my teeth and resolving to get it done I start with looking at sample resumes. By the time resume three has been read I fall headlong into a deep sense of inadequacy. Neatly in little crisp sentences, people list their lives down. 4 years as VP at New Bank. Ensured client retention went up by 67%, got the overall revenue to rise by 55%. Moved to advisory consulting and ensured increased billings of 90%. MBA from an international school and yea - play the guitar, traveled 45 countries and can dance the can can while dangling from a rope.

Consistency. Fancy labels, and articulate impactful lofty sounding achievements.
Its not them. Its me.

A scattered career - layered with the deep desire to find the 'passion' that drives your work has given me a plethora of life experiences.

My skills include being able to cultivate a never say die attitude, of being able to handle lay offs, success, firings, transfers, mergers and betrayals at the work place. Does living a life not dictated by the boxes of a resume count for an achievement? Does being a geek and learning new things qualify as a skill set?

Even as I write these things down I sound to my own self a sulky little teenager wanting the world to pat me on the back for taking an different path and rewarding me for it. Ha! Sadly the places where I want the pats to come from and rewarding the folks who walked the line of sticking it out worked the long hours, didn't look for soul satisfaction and are now have nicely lined impactful bullet lined resumes.

The grasshopper faces the onslaught of winter.

At the end of the rant is a sheepish realisation. At the end of it all for now I want to be the rat in the rat race. After years of working with start ups, being part of the team, a place where you define the culture not where the culture defines you. I want the other side of the spectrum.

Family outings, trainings, coffee machines, air conditioning, provident funds, international travel. Oh man, yet again I am off to Korea, this time I am carrying MTR packets to survive. As exhausting as it probably will be for a while I want to be that. An octagon wants to squeeze into a square hole.

Alas the first step remains the dreaded resume.
2 pages that shall explain the this and that - which has been my life.

Tomorrow my to do list shall look like this
- Re do my resume
- reevaluate the few places you want to be at..
-----.......

Unraveling Traveling

  

Ever since I can remember there has been a desire to travel. 

Only now that statement is no longer that simple. Travel has revealed itself to be a multi faceted devil. Have holidayed, have delved into places, have even explored but off late I dont think I have travelled. 

As I sit on the verge of the annual holiday looming close, I sit down to classify the kinds of travels that I have been on and what each does for me. 

TYPE A

Holiday Travel - Vacationing

I am so stressed dude I need a vacation. I smile whenever I hear this line. For me travelling is not stress reliving its hard work by itself. what with navigation, route planning, new food tasting, walking for ages, its a different kind of tired. How was it a stress buster. I didnt get it, till I was made to discover the idea of a beached whale vacation. 

In my very very limited scope of thinking, its not fair to have this clubbed under travelling - but masses rule. 

Typical Holiday vacations are about:

•   Being

This word is the license to sleep in, eat a brunch, read a book, eat again, sit, drink, smoke, repeat the same post lunch, and then carry on till late in the night. Change into something elegant for the evening, head for a nice meal, drink more, party a bit and crash late night

•   Resort Choices

Choosing the place to stay is usually a crucial part of the planning. One could go to a whole new nation, drive to the resort and not step out till its time to catch the flight. Focus - resort activities, mingling with the people that you have travelled with, at best speaking to the resort staff, sitting by yourself and admiring the sunset is the best adventure and drinking a bottle of the best wine

•   Take-aways

Other than a hole in the pocket, there are some pictures made, usual facebook updates of plated meals, some sea food that has been unfortunate to make it to your plate and a well posed picture album that may include pictures of you aping the statues of the resort. 

TYPE B

The Traveller Tourist

Maps, Lonely Planet, List of must dos, recommendations from trip advisor, handy history tips, maybe an occasional word of the local language learnt too.

The agenda is to DO DO and DO. Far from being a stress buster, this travel map is all about balancing the stress between the various options available. 

Typical indicators that you are holidaying with one of these would be

•   Doing

There isnt a minute to waste. One lands at the airport and arms themselves with all the brochures available. Reading about all the choices and creating an itineary that balances all the walks, tours, points, museums, palaces, is almost impossible given that there are only 3 days for this one place, 3 for the next and then 3 for the third nation before one heads home. 

•   Hotel & Itinerary

A hotel can be anything simple and clean, the focus is to be more out of the room than in. Centerally located, close to a bus/train station is a boon. Quick breakfast and the run is on. Start with the walking tour of the palace, quick lunch of a sandwhich at the city square - check it out, off for the view point look, sunset from the castle tower, post sunset drinks at the gallows of the kings cellar, dine at the famous local diner get a feel of the texture and whew.... exhausted get to the room, hit the pillow and start afresh on day 2

•   Take Aways-

checks on the check list. ticks on the bucket list. ticket stubs from the louvre, aching feet and full memory cards. exhaustion from the trip to look at the trip and a lingering feeling that I shall come back one day soon. this time with more time..

◦                      

TYPE C

The Travelling Traveler

I romanticise this category - I confess upfront 

This for me is the traveller who explores, rolls up his sleeves and starts the process of scratching below the surface. The visitor who comes with or without an agenda, with or without a camera, no brochures, ticking off the Taj Mahal as a added bonus, someone who knows more about why a monument was built and is in no hurry to actually visit it

Typical indicators that you are holidaying with one of these would be

•   Being and Doing

Delving into the place is a mixture of being at a central place and doing a lot of things to make it come to life. To add a dash of greater honesty to it, there is sincere effort made to do things like the others from the place. Surveying the new place from the glass panels of a hotel room and window of the chauffer driven car does not qualify

•   home and house

Staying is about finding a pad, a couch surfers couch an air bnb, a messy room in the crowded room, the chaos is welcome, the interactions an added advantage

•   Take Aways-

Growth, understanding, an expansion of the self. an ability to give up preconceived notions, awareness of your own limitations, knowledge of things that you cant live without, relationships evaluations- making new ones and knowing which ones got cast off. Memories that keep you warm by the fireplace. 

The ability to take the time out to realize that even though you are miles away from home, there is sameness in diversity everywhere you look

AND THEN.....

There is a special kind of a traveler. 

The TRAVEL WITH KIDS

All the above seem like slices of heaven in comparison ;0

Re writing

I stare at the blank screen. Doubt plagues me, its been a long time since I wrote. A long time since I actually took the time to do the things on the to do list. A long time since I sat down and made a pause. A long time indeed.

Sitting here, an old foe creeps up. Does this blog really matter? Does anyone really read it? Should I not be writing something deeper. An article perhaps? A comment on Modi. A write up on the floods? A note on the falling Rupee? Something with relevance - depth- economics- politics- big words that I know I ought to feel passionate for but leaves me feeling .. out of depth.

For the now, I feel like a passenger on a train. News, events flow past me like the next paddy field. Registered, noted but leaving no trace no impact.

The things that do leave a trace, are the small innocent mundane moments of daily living. Moments that must come everyday in everyones life. And yet these everyday moments are the ones that slip by from ones memory the fastest.

My 4 month old daughters uncoordinated screams form the backdrop music. She is hoping that her voice lures the rattle closer, or at least gets her mom to stop typing and get her the toys. I smile at her antics.

And right there in that very moment there is a fear that I wont remember this moment. Her face, her wordless screams shall fade away in the file of subconscious memories accessible only on the chair of a hypnotist. Human memory is a vexed instrument.

Months back, was having lunch with a friends mother. A close relative of hers was slowly loosing her memory and taking care of her was a challenge. As the relatives brain lost touch with the continuum of time as we know it - it spiralled and dipped into the past of its own sweet will. Random moments surfaced. Crucial moments were ignored. For example in graphic detail she narrated a story from a time when she was a girl in the unpartitioned Pakistan. Her family had just moved houses. Boxes lined the house. News came that they were to entertain that evening. The table had not yet come. A make shift arrangement was done by lining up the yet to be installed bathroom commodes, putting a pretty table cloth on top and covering it all. She recalled distinctly how she was petrified the man would drop something and bend, uncovering the secret.

Her eyes danced as she recounted this. She looked blankly though at her daughter whom she was sharing this story with. That her brain had forgotten.

Ah memory loss in the old. its ok. its a part of life.
Its not an issue of the old though, its amazing how much we forget.

Sitting today, I wont be able to recall the names of my classmates in class 9. - That was maybe 20 years ago. Or the section that I was in. What was the colour of the school bag that I sported that year? Marks for the maths paper in the final exam? Name of the teacher who taught me history?

Forget school, daily events from a week back are difficult to remember. What it all boils down to are snatches - randomly selected by our brain that remain.

In which case, it makes perfect sense to capture them. A silly diary on an online space. An indulgence for an older me. A support to my weary memory. A space to savour the day gone by. A little bit of an pause.

A memory bank of anecdotes. A databank of memories. For me for my new year of being mommy. 

Going Home to Come Home

Uprooting and Rerooting leaves one well............. rootless.

One stands in the middle of the new city that aims to become home, looking at the mass of people moving around, at people sipping coffee, at the easy conversation that seems to be there on most tables and knows that you are not “in” yet.

Yesterday, met two old friends who had come back to Bangalore after months of being away. Both are local Bangaloreans, kids who grew up into discerning adults in the evolving city.

For one it was the first time she came back -  ‘home’ post leaving. Only to realize that .. strangely now she referred to her new city as ‘home’.  Damm this was confusing. Why confusing? Because for the entire time that she was in the other nation – Bangalore was home. It was not where she lived but it was definitely what home was meant to be.

Hmm made me smile. Happens all the time doesn’t it.  For me home is Delhi. It will always be, the city that I will know better than any other, because I come from there,  know its pulse and have given myself the  self granted right to call myself a Delhite.

I live in Bangalore. Its home.  But in the limited sense of the ‘house’. It’s the home that for me means that my routine is here, I live here, but as I move around the city, despite the fact that by now with each place I have my own story and own history, at some level I feel a liitle it of a faker.

I know know.. at a deep level, that I don’t have the pulse of the city in me. That I don’t speak the language, that I in a gathering, everyone will know that I came here from somewhere else. Yet this is home.

A strange phenomena however is the need to come back to the original city, to fall in love with the adopted one with a far greater intensity.  Seen it happen a number of times.

-       Delhi person goes to London. Likes it but secretly knows its not India. Comes to Inida and misses London more than before

-       Someone goes to America,  and appreciates the chaos of home, the life it offers, comes to Pune, sets up home and misses America.

-       Am sure the list can go on and on

I love how the mind has an ability to magnify the parts we love and fade out the noises of things we wanna fade out.  Come home for a break, and these come whom bam slam into your face and then ouchies!! You remember why you wanted out in the first place. And hey wala. The new city looks like a place you want to head back to right this minute!!!!!!

Smarty pants me with all this insight and wisdom, no matter where I am going to go shall fall into the musings little Indian mouse, missing the street food, the noises of the fans and traffic, the blending in, and not cleaning my dogs poop once he poops. 

Re starting

September 11, 2012

Seems like an ominous day to start something new.

Seems like a great day to start something new.

When 9/11 took place the world watched shaken, the stories and the hate, the love and the final moments have reverberated for over a decade and the only thing that clear and strong that each persons sags resounded with were the simple words of I Love You.  Live your life, it’s a beautiful thing to have, make it count, make it large.

Its 10.00am, am sitting in a silent room, in a rather silent office where people are yet to make an appearance. It’s a new place.  Another new start.

Its rather ironical, but sitting in a office space makes me feel immediately more productive, happier and willing to do more.  Including write. Gives me a sense of purpose, though as I type, I don’t know how to get water, where the loo is, what is the internet password and how the coffee comes to the desk.

Yet having been in and out of several offices over the past years, there is a certain sense of ease that comes with being around one. The jabber with the colleagues, the running in on time and the banter that comes with lunch, all go towards making it a more fun day.  A conversation – that makes you scratch the surface of who the other person is.

You are aware that you know them but, there is a whole level of them that you do not know, a certain line that is never crossed,  a wall that comes up. If I was to die surrounded by my colleagues over the past years, I am sure it would feel to me that I  had been deprived in some manner of a death that I deserved. What a morbid thought na.

Its ironical that one knows spends a maximum amount of ones day in this group, yet for the most part, in most organizations the interactions are aimed at being limited, professional and non personal. A birthday holiday is equal to leave taken for personal reasons. Cute in a sense how much we try to plain jane ourselves.

Reading the article, (http://www.businessinsider.com/how-rich-people-think-differently-from-the-poor-2012-8?op=1) was an opener to assess how much we stress on the little thinks and the approach itself towards thinking/thoughts  the foundation determines the extent of what we become.

Rich people think differently. Loved people think differently. Successful people think differently. Developed country citizens think differently. Poor people think differently. How much of us thinks in a manner that the I chooses, it an interesting question to ask oneself.

For a return to writing this one is a hell of a jumbled up article, but it’s a good reflection of life in the here and now. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.