Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - HongKong

 Dear Reader,

First let me apologise for not writing last week. I had gone on a work trip to HongKong and my crazy schedule kept me on my toes. Though I dreamt every night that I will put words on the typing screen, they seemed to fail me.

Have you ever absorbed a city at a frenetic pace over a span of  seven days? The kaleidoscope of sound, light, smell and taste drive your senses to a plane which is difficult to explain. The love, kindness and warmth poured on me humbled my heart. My colleagues ensured that they gave us a home away from home which was difficult to part with, when the tryst ended. Overall it was a wonderful experience with a commingling of work and fun thrown in good measure.

Besides the work, food and guilty pleasure of shopping, I had the privilege of observing the cosmic connections. Some souls cross your path with ecliptic precision. Like on a pre-determined orbit, they come close, so close that you can breathe in their essence. And like every magical cycle of nature they move away, leaving behind bitter sweet memories. Taking with them the unsaid desire of “some more” of “something” which escapes trapping of words. The in fathomable emotional roller coasters defies logic, the exhilarating assault to senses defies imagination and the soul cracking pain of leaving, defies oft embraced norms. Yet they are there, nameless nothing that connects the soul.

Saying it, hope your life has been good. Do you ever ponder on the “nothings” and “somethings “ in your life, which words fail to describe. As we grow in experience, we see these more often. Bubbles of miracle! Let there be such bubbles in your life which will paint divinity in this mundane world. Till then, do take care and stay well.

Yours always ,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknow Reader Series 1 - Love lessons

 

Hello Dear Reader,

One week flew by, but the Universe did press the slow-mo button for me. I was quite forced to slow down and take in things with the grace of a person, who's under the weather. The seasonal flue caught me by surprise and ensured, I kept my work hours to bare necessity. Instead I had indulged in the warm hug of the fever, on and off, for a few days. The cough and the cold played spoil sport. I took solace in the ginger teas and turmeric lattes to soothe my soar throat. 

Have you ever watched the sky from the bed,  beside the window - especially when you are unwell and alone. It takes a different avatar altogether. It reflects the inside of the room with such dull clarity, that it incites human beings to look inside through the cob web of memories, into the deepest corner of one's life. The stories that come frothing out; are of myriad shades.  With time they too, always change their colour and texture. I have observed there are two kinds of being unwell. The first kind is life-shattering ones which shows you glimpses of death. Hence when you lie on your sick bed, watching the sky, you feel a nearness to your God, your Faith, or whatever you call it. Existential crisis brings you closer to the miracle called Creation. Then there is the second kind of being unwell. These regular ones, come by often, like those irritating late afternoon sales person. You cant be rude out of your human politeness, yet you don't want to entertain them much. Unfortunately your generosity of human spirit ensures that you bear with them till they at the least completes canvassing their product. This kind of being unwell makes sure you lie on your bed, to ponder aimlessly on the loves that touched your life. 

I have been adventurous enough and befriended many to see, live or hear of many kinds of love stories. The one that bubbled up was a story of a girl who had fallen in love. Being the first of her life, it raged like an untamed wild fire. The whirlwind of emotion was new to her. Her balanced, calculative brain couldn't fathom what the hell shook her world and wrapped her into a fiercely beautiful rapture. In that one sunken hole of emotions she put her trust, her passion, her logic, her love, her faith and her entire universe , believing that true love exists. Believing that such truth touch lives to manifest itself in its glory. But like million other such love stories that crop up in our literature and celluloid, this one too died an untimely death. She was cast aside, forgotten and bone crushingly replaced. Such ends are always portrayed as tragic, but the truth is real life stories are far removed from fiction. The tragedy do not manifest for all to see. There’s no moping, life moves on without batting an eye. You carry on with the calm of a haunted house which seems ordinary in the daily grind. The grief of such blood wrenching lovelessness infests the soul of the one discarded. The girl wilted slowly, painstakingly, minute by minute, till her existence became a question in her own mind. Then one bright day, she died completely, inside. What lived was no more her. Some one else replaced her from inside out. Such love stories are never heard or read. But if you are a keen observer of life, you will see such dark patches in dappled sunlight often hidden in plain sight.

I hope dear reader, love does touch your life in the most beautiful way. Not like the morbid stories that float like muck on the mind of unwell body. May your love be like the glorious sunlight which shines upon your heart with warmth and wonder of the beauty of life. 

Till we meet again, with my weekly chit -chats. Do take care of yourself, and may your life weave beautiful stories to share with posterity.

With love,

Yours Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknow Reader Series 1 - So long farewell

 Hello Dear Reader,

Hope the last week has been glorious in providing adventures in your daily routines. For me, it was a treacherous and sticky terrain at work place. I had to duck quite a  few grenades and skittle around hidden land mines. But that is a story for another day.

I was wanting to share a glimpse into how my life looks like, to me. From a very early age I resonated a rolling stone which would move from place to place; but unlike the proverb, I did gather bucket full of moss on my journey. As strangers became acquaintances, who turned to friends, they evolved to something like a family soon enough till we parted ways and they rested in my memories in the sweetest way possible. I am convinced that I must have born under the gypsy stars, as my life rolled on, like a caravan in its journey.

In this city called Mumbai, which has given me shelter and nurtures my body at this point of time, we met a lot of folks from different traverse of the city. Some from the professional world, some from medical fraternity and some were my neighbors in a shady society I inhabit. One of the oldest residents living here, had opened their heart and hearth few months back, as we hosted the first Durga Puja in the Society. Like I said , my life is made up of stories and millions of them, I will store the special story of our first Durga Puja for some other time. But this one couple, opened their hearts and filled our lives with so much love that it reduced the longing to go back to my hometown.

The easy banter, the cracked jokes, the genuine concern and delicious food over 'adda' (quintessential form of conversation over the dinner table, albeit much more raucous than our English counterparts. Very unique to Bengali culture) made them more of family than neighbors to us. 

But as this story goes, my life resembles a rolling stone in truest spirit. If I am not the one who is rolling away on my journey; for sure the rolling kickstarts around me. This dearest family has decided to move base to another city, leaving behind fond memories and a lot of emptiness in our green nook of a society. To bid them farewell, my otherwise tedious week broke into a farewell dinner filled with love, laughter, music and yummy food.

Every tribe has their own trade mark stamp, and I think for Bengalis, its the food and 'adda' which identifies us. We may be in whichever part of the world but these two things will bind us in a genetic thread which is hard to escape. We celebrate with food, we pray with food and we grieve with food too.

Wishing these lovely couple a life load of happiness and with fervent prayer bid them good bye. Wishing over the summer stars, that the rolling stones do meet at some point of time in some other place and so I closed the week with a heavy heart full of memories.

You can very well see, that my letters give sparks of life to unlimited stories, I am waiting to write the next one to you in the coming week. Till then keep well. Enjoy the long weekend of Easter Monday if your part of the world celebrates it. 

With love,

Yours Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series - 1 - Beautifully lonely

 

                   Dearest Unknown Reader,

I hope you have been keeping well.

A lot has passed in the last 6 years.  A many numbers of milestones achieved and many more, which gave me a slip. The most critical of those that I missed was my sure shot tryst with death. Not sure if I had told you earlier, but the fact is that I had cirrhosis of liver which was in its 4th stage of dilapidation and the poor battery of doctors had a very tough time trying to do something about it. However human will can achieve the impossible and medical science has done wonders to manifest miracles. As my stars would have it, I did survive a Liver transplant and rocked back to life.

This post is neither about my illness nor about my slow recovery, but its more like a introduction to what you may see in this blog going forward. A connect with the kindred souls who love receiving letters which carries snippets and wonders of a personal world very different from our own. So if you kindly permit and oblige me by reading, I will be more than happy to share my thoughts on the week that passed by me. Either in a whirlwind or like being caught in the center of a storm, which usually is uncannily calming.

I used to love receiving letters, but like many other older art forms, letters died an untimely death. They were replaced by emails, which soon gave way to instant messages. Not that I am cribbing, but the old world charm , the soft old rose tinted nostalgic embrace which a letter usually used to bring with it, is very dearly missed. In the crowd of fast and furious messaging, more often than not in acronyms and emojis, emotions have taken a  back seat and have given rise to operational efficiencies of living a life faster.

So in the hope of clinging on to a lost love, I beseech, do indulge me by reading these ramblings of a beautifully lonely soul. I say 'beautifully' after a lot of thought. My loneliness is neither melancholic nor self destructive. Its the calm acceptance one feels when they come in terms with the fact that they are sufficient in their own existence. The Universe is too huge and too chaotically methodical to harness its energy for catering to individual ego. We traverse this path alone, learning lessons alone, and transform into some other forms of energy alone. What creates our world is our sense of grasping to elusory threads of pleasure and sorrow.

So here I walk the path and click memories to share with you. Urging you to travel with me in this cosmic conundrum, sashaying in your path in some other corner of this huge creation. We can watch each other, laugh, cry and learn through these letters.

Do write back whenever you feel like sharing  snippets. It will be embraced like a warm fuzzy hug  from an old friend. For this week, this is all from my world to yours. Hope you have wonders coming your way next week.

With love,

Yours Pocket full of life