Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Story of Living and Dying

 Hello dearest Reader,

I’m back again with another of my reminiscences. Two year back, on such a lovely late afternoon, I had my tryst with destiny. A part of me died but I survived because of some blessed soul who breathed his last, but kept a piece of him living inside me. I got a liver which saved my life and my doner gave away his to save mine.

Few things I understood that day after living through a 14 hour long surgery, surviving is difficult, death is inevitable and happiness is a choice. Every breath I have taken since I came out of the OT on the fated 11th August, had been spent on embracing the life lessons. I realised that if I have been given a new lease of life, I must have some purpose to fulfill in the world, and if not for anyone else, at least for that person who couldn’t live but granted me life, I should be living with a vengeance in its fullest glory.

I try to end my day with a clean heart, which did not wish any one ill. I complete my daily tasks in a manner by which, if I die the next moment, I will not have any regrets. And I live in happiness of the moment. Every moment in our life is death of previous second passed and a possibility for the coming second. The tick in the clock is reminder of life and death dancing in a loving embrace. Where one ends, the other begins.

We come into this world alone and helpless and we die in the same manner. It is quirk of nature that in between these milestones we creat billions of connections and weave an intricate web of Karma. We assign people or external factors to be the master of our destiny. Bestow ownership of our joy and grief in the mercy of others. I believe we are entitled to a choice. The miracle of being a human is to be able assert our choices. And I wish to choose HAPPINESS every time over, even in the face of grief , heartbreaks, setbacks, pain and loss.

I choose to see light, in the dancing butterflies, the fiery clouds on a traffic packed road, amidst beautiful saree and innumerable medicines, between hospitals and shopping malls, with friends who nurses the soul and doctors who’ve become friends.  I choose to not hold anyone responsible for my happiness. Fir my choices are mine and I take responsibility for my life. Life taught me that your closest of relations cannot die with you, however much they care. Hence one needs to learn to live with happiness with oneself , however difficult is the surrounding. I live on my own terms with the courage of a soul who has kissed life and came back. I do not compromise on my joie de vivre and I do not shy away from the struggles of life.

With utmost humility and gratitude filled heart, I thank the Universe to allow me to live the life I lead. I have prayers and best wishes for every soul that have crossed my path and those who have not. And I live to sing the hymn of Miracle of the Universe. To all of you who have battled life with fierceness of a warrior, who have been care givers and have the fraternity of support system for warriors like us - Thank you for making this world a better place.

Yours always,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Mommy - WIP

 Hello dearest reader,

Hope all is well with you in your side of the world. Mumbai rains have thawed a bit. The relentless lashing has ceased and we can see the sunny smile once in a while peeking through the rain clouds. And just as to bring that much needed cheer, I had a celebration this last week. My baby boy who’s no more a baby even if I stretch my imagination, turned 16. Today’s story is about a mommy still in the making of a 16 year old lad.

My son came into my life a month early, a little premature suffering from infantile jaundice and spent 12 days in NICU. I was allowed to see him 4 days after he was born all wired up with machines and resting in a glass cubicle to hold his fragile life. And the first thought which flashed in my mind was, “Is this what I reproduced, looking like some bird fledgling with tiny hands and legs”. The mother of the baby refused to take birth on that day.

The day my son was born numerous tests were done on the mother and I was detected with a chronic liver decease. I was told my days were numbered as there were no medicines available to mankind for my treatment at that point of time.Then the struggle began hard, fast and innovative. My baby took the reins in his hands to bring me up to be a Mom I required to be. 

First 6 years, his chubby smiles, his naughty playfulness, his baby anger and his no tantrum nature made my days enchanting and magical. I was a working mom, and spent most of my waking hours, building a career, which I’m immensely proud of. My boy worked behind the scenes teaching me how to nurture, how to give, how to love, how to express joys and how to fend my cub with a fierceness of a tigress. I was so well taught that I could overlook my dreams, my happiness, my sorrows, my griefs and my tiredness to provide my baby with a home, where he could belong. What a wonderful journey we had, his baby hands guiding me all through.

When he turned six, my condition deteriorated and I was hospitalised. I was under trial drugs at that point of time and unfortunately the experiment failed me. My doctors were very candid and gave me two  months to two years to live. Given that meds still were at the mercy of pharma scientists trying to come into existence in labs across the globe, I had to relearn a few things. A new phase started, of being a mom which was a need of the moment for my baby boy.

We worked together in making him independent, emotionally strong, calm, with a rational head over his baby shoulders. I was harder than an army general training his troops. My boy learnt to cook, get ready, do his own stuff, keep himself busy with his hobbies and had social life filled with family and friends. I taught myself hard not to express love, attachment and any kind of motherly affection cause my boy needed to learn to live without a mom. And oh boy! What a success story it was. I became his competitor, I became the one he has to defeat in every possible argument, he did his best to outdo me in every turn of his growing up days.

When my son turned fourteen, finally my turn came to kiss life a good bye and embrace the shadows. But as destiny would have it, I survived. One liver transplant later, with gentle hands of cancer touching my body, I still breathed the day out of life. My days are still numbered, it’s just that I have enough to see my son grow up to build his own home. I have enough to give him time to fly the nest and then his mom can stop being the home and rest. And that’s good enough.

From his fourteenth to sixteenth birthday, I have learnt to be his mom, who’s a friend, a companion, a comrade, a co-conspirator. It’s an adventure how my boy nurtured me to be the Mom he needs. How I’m still a mom in the making as I evolve with my son growing up. It’s a wonderful journey to let yourself grow into a relationship. My son’s mom did not take birth, the day he was born. He had to work damn hard to give birth to his Mommy and he’s still working on it…Mommy in the making-Work-in-progress.

Hope you’ll can embark in your own journey of growing into relationship which matters to you. It may not be mother-son, it can be any other in this beautiful world. I urge you to give yourself a fair chance to grow into it, nurture it and thrive it in. Build it the way time and life demands as they flow by. It’s irrelevant whether these beautiful bonds have a name or not. If there are two human beings on either sides of the relationship, it’s worth the effort to embark in the journey of a lifetime.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letters to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Team

 Hello dearest Reader,

A week has gone by and as you know I have another story to share. At times I feel like I am the story teller in Arabian Nights. Every week brings forth stories of different hues. This week like quintessential Mumbaikar ( people of Mumbai) we celebrated monsoon with a team outing to the hills of Khandala. It’s ritual we have been doing over years. Every monsoon there’s this whispers in the office bay, talking of the same destination, but different location, some fun activities, food , music, splashing in pool and chatting away about everything but work.

Have you ever wondered specially those of us, who are full time workers - working away at our desks, to earn a living, to follow a passion, to be the change, to grow and to learn, usually spend more than half of our waking hours in office. As we skittle along our keyboards meeting deliverables, catering to clients and attending high octane meetings, we unconsciously form a family, “a work family”. And like the definition of any family, we fend for each other, fight our battles together and race towards one goal. And as years pass by, your colleagues become an integral part of your lives, intertwined with daily laughter, joys, sorrows and frustrations.

These outings are an outlet for our raucous, uninhibited self, where we spend time outside the walls of the formal enclosure . There is dancing, and rolling in the floor with laughter, splashing in the pool in abandon, gorging on food and drowning in mirth thrown in abundance. The singing, the story sharing and throwing colours at each other as we indulged in group activities creates memories. As we frolicked and cracked up, a group of 15 odd folks, between the age group of 25 to 45 we learnt from each other, as we grew into a stronger team.

The best part of such outings is that you get a peek into people’s life at a very human level. We get to know about their history, their passion, their kids, their dreams, their love stories and their struggles. As you spend hours under the rain drenched sky, exchanging ghost stories, you realise, you are no different than one big family, where each other matters at an intrinsic level.

I wish you have encountered such wonderful team, which makes you feel at home, makes you feel accepted and loved as we traverse the professional world. Have a great week ahead with your kind of tribe.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letters to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Catching up with time

 Hello Dear Reader,

Hope last week treated you well. I had a breathless one, which I skied through, in wreck less speed, avoiding catastrophic consequences by the nick.

You might think what kind of earth shattering phenomena had touched my life. But to understand my previous statement you need to know me a bit. So taking the opportunity of introducing my persona through this letter. I’m a loner who’ve adapted a gregarious, exuberant layer of extroverted personality to navigate life. My cautious, socially nervous, people pleaser heart, wears a lion’s attire and roars away in glory. My fear of failure and anxiety of abandonment pushes me to over work, over compensate and do every other thing, which is way over the line of my physical and emotional capacity. You might now get a glimpse of how overwhelming for me is the life I lead. It’s a complete contradiction to my own natural rhythm.

Last week my work pushed me to spend long hours in office, which was followed by even longer hours spent on my social commitments. The hours included multi tasking and wearing different hats of being a professional, a social contributor, a wife, a mother, a financial planner, a tax advisor, a chef, a career and education Counselor and God knows what else. I just felt like a candle which is burning out too fast, too soon. So I decided to pause and remember things which calms me, makes me look inward, and soothes my soul.

I love cooking, especially for the people who are special to me. For me that’s the easiest way of expressing love, respect and care. If I have cooked you a meal, be rest assured you’re in my book of priorities. You’ll always have me covering your back.

 I also enjoy flowers, they make me happy. Just looking at them brings a smile. I’ve rarely been given flowers, but I do indulge in them often. Softest of petals with loveliest of fragrances.

Nothing calms me more than art. I admire them, specially water colours of places of beauty. They invite you to the world they create. I wish I could paint, but thankfully I am surrounded by talented folks, who allows me to peek into their creative world.

My affinity to nature goes back a long way. I was born and brought up in the small towns smattered across Bengal. Without the plants, the greens, the birds and open sky, I feel like a fish out of a pond, claustrophobic and dead. I spend hours looking at my green nook tucked in corner of my balcony hanging over the busiest and most crowded city of India. 

And of them all I love books, of  all kinds, shapes and sizes. I go berserk inside book a shop. My favourite dream has a shady tree, under the open sky, a book and me lying underneath, engrossed in each other. 

To end my list, I align with my rhythm, when I walk the path of a seeker. A seeker who searches for the meaning of existence and purpose of life. And what a beautiful journey it is, when you walk alone but complete unto your own self.

I hope all of you have your pockets full of wonderful magic, which calms you down and aligns you to your own beautiful rhythm. I wish you courage and faith to wear whatever personality life commands you to adorn with grace and dignity. I will pray that you always have the power to recognise the difference between your truest self and the myriad personas you play as you navigate life.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letters to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Devine Web

 Hello Dearest Reader,

This week was hectic, I flew across cities travelling thousand miles in a single day, spent few hours with those who call our own and went through a whirlwind of paperwork in government offices to sell off a dream. Dreams are a peculiar phenomenon, they nest in your heart and take shape as time flows. However if you have ever experienced dreaming the same dream with another person, you will know that those dreams though one take two different forms because of two different individual involved. And when the dream becomes too complicated to reside in space-time conundrums, it’s much better to give it up.

Well talking about dreams, takes me to a fabulous weekend lunch, spent with two of my closest friends. They are coming together to build a home out of a dream they both share. It was a heart warming story of love that walked past previous relationships that didn’t work, traversed the social and familial reservations and reached its destiny. I have always wondered, why people tend to characterise love between two humans. I find it lofty and arrogant to colour the purest form of all emotions in the hue of your individual outlook. The world usually have no qualms to typecast it as good, bad or ugly depending on personal perceptions. Even though they are not living the life of the two individuals concerned, do not understand the dynamics of their relationship with life and the world at large. 

I had the privilege of growing up in a very liberal family and my father is an exceptional man who has tremendous capacity for looking ahead in time. He always used to tell me, that love is like water. It will take the shape of the container that you pour it in. However it retains its own character and never becomes the container. Now when I look back , I find it profound that he thought of explaining love to a 16 year old girl with such lucidity. I have had my share of falling and failing in love. Parts of me have died inside, but I survived. I have loved deeply, so I know, how beautiful it is. And I have lost too, which gave me glimpses of death. I have a deep reverence for this particular emotion. This one can make life worth living and death equally beautiful as it allows to evade the pain of a broken heart.

Now when I reminisce and see a thousand lives lived, I understand that love is complete unto itself. There are loves which do not have a destination, do not have a future or a past. It just thrives in the present. You love and that’s about it. Your love is not dependent on any reciprocal emotion, nor does it search for an outcome. It neither dreams of a future nor cherishes the memories of past. It breathes in the moment. When transiency is what is permanent in this life, your existence is nothing but a mirage. When you know that you don't seek anything. You just be.

Hoping all of you get your kind of love. Praying that life gives you situations where you abandon apprehensions and love with the freedom of your natural instincts. May your heart be filled with the elixir that makes living every minute worthwhile.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Monsoon Magic

Hello dearest reader,

How have you been in the last seven days? Has the summer brought in happiness or was it too scorching to bear? From my corner of the world I have enjoyed the first burst of rains, incessantly washing over my city. Making it slushy and wet. A beautiful reminiscent of how nature nurtures its own.

I have heard people associate different emotions with the rains. It’s like Nature’s own mood board, anyone can come and pin anything on it. Mumbai, as a city welcomes the rains with open arms. The trekking, the river rafting, the getting drenched, the classic movie songs all pictured in the rains are what creates the essence of monsoon.

Yet some places associate gloom, dullness and monotony with it. The soggy clothes and musty smells drowned in sound of water dripping from a sky which is constantly shades of grey, sinks your heart.

I, myself tread the season very cautiously. For me, it is the door way to memories which reminds me of broken hearts, unkept promises, unfulfilled dreams and romance that breathed its last. Have you ever let the rains brush your face along with gusty winds? It plays at your heartstring in ways which only evokes tears. As if your internalised pains burst forth seeking conformity in the larger canvas of nature. The urge for validation, to be recognised as a truth, pulls at your core and draws out demons who you have put to rest. 

You see, ravages of broken heart and unrequited romance, never sees the light of the day. They creep out slowly under the shroud of night sky. The monsoon rains embraces these emotions with open arms like a lover who has returned from a far off land, after a very long time. It kisses your lips with all the tenderness of a love that couldn’t be and embrace you with a passion of lost love. I am wary of the rains. Never sure if I should be grateful for the door it opens for me to look at the embedded emotions or should I curse it for drowning me in the pain which took eons to navigate and efforts of a lifetime to survive.

So to all of you, indulge in the grey, beautiful mood board of nature. Personalise it! Live it! The only season where your past, present and future walk hand in hand. The magic of monsoon is like the Sorcerer’s Stone, what it touches, it changes. It brings alive the deepest part of a very ‘dead’ you.

Always yours, 

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Transitional Love

 

Hello Dear Reader,

The last week ushered in “The Hallowed Monsoon” in India and Mumbai in particular. Mumbai rains act as an equaliser in the city. It pours over all and sundry without discrimination and brings forth curses, umbrellas, water clogged roads and even more clogged traffic with mirth that defies sanity. Unlike other Indian cities where there’s respite between rains, Mumbai rains don’t get breathless before at least a week to 10 days. It will hold you by the collar and jangle your nerves till you’re humbled enough to thank God for the shelter you have and emotionally refuse to leave it behind for any kind of work. Away from  Covid menace, the ‘Work From Home’ concept now thrives in this season where it becomes a crutch for commuters as they can afford not to travel and still get their work done.

And as I stayed put working from home over a few days stretching to a weekend I got to spend some quality time with our new pet Mithai. Mithai is the second one in our family after our first retriever Kulfi left us in shock and with a broken heart. Very like my Indian roots, two back to back pets made me draw comparison. The first one obviously smarter, more civil, with a bigger heart and better intelligence being my heart beat, was always closer to my heart. So close, that at times with Mithai, I felt that I am having to put off with an obnoxious dog looking donkey as pet instead of the king of the canine world, Kulfi. In truth, I had closed my mind , heart and brains to not let Mithai in. I was so convinced that Mithai is a mistake thrust upon me, that I avoided him to the extent it’s possible to avoid a fur ball always lolling at your feet. 

Everything Mithai did, brought in a frown and smirk. His unruly toilet habits, his joker like way of gobbling up his food, his chewing every corner of my precious coffee table, tearing off the edges of my rug, irritated me and pushed my button. I swear on God even his happy smile looks manic and confirms his lunacy. Unlike his angelic elder brother, Kulfi who could melt iron hearts with one “hug me” look, this one just brought me to the edge of losing my credibility as a pet parent. As Mithai tore apart my love filled heart for all four legged creatures with his antics, I started to enjoy his unpredictable raucous nature. His fearsome competition with his daily carrot treat, where he will play with it like a football, trying dribble it and throw it up in the air before catching and biting into it with luscious joy, made me laugh. I could understand why he starts nipping at us trying to gain attention, calling us when he’s hungry and dragging us when he wanted to play. I slowly started reading Mithai. His vocabulary is not similar to Kulfi’s but his needs are the same. His expression are definitely not as sober as his elder brother’s but intentions where the same.

I realised that your life gets touched with different kinds of love. All of them, changing you in a way which is unfathomable. As I’m still coping with the loss of Kulfi, Mithai has started inching in slowly and steadily. I hope dear readers, you give yourself a fair chance to love the second time, third time or as many time as it may call for. For we love not for others but our own sake. Inherently human nature takes to love and acceptance, until civilisation taught us to be selfish. As the world grows murkier in front of the eyes which are ageing, do love in abundance, in whatever forms, shapes, and sizes it comes to you. And do not look for similarities or precedence. This one emotion however age old will never fail to surprise you and go by teaching a few lessons.

Here’s wishing love, transitional in nature, fickle and unpredictable for the coming days. Stay well and try to stay inside if you’re in those parts of the world where’s rains are lashing in.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life.