Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - The Black Cat and its omen

Hello Dearest Reader,

Hope you have been keeping well. Month of November had been a delight for my travel happy feet. The beginning of the month I could visit my soul’s home in Sikkim and I shared the story of Gasa the dog who gave up his life for his love. I hope you enjoyed the read. However this one is a different one though about animals and the way they have communicated to humans over the eons of time.

End of November took me to the beaches of Goa. The sun, the sea and the sand, was relaxing to say the least, but in a luxuriously leisurely way. The good food, the doing nothing and the ribbon like village roads entwining the greens, lulls you to believe that the world is perfect.

Coming back from one of our long walks post dinner, this jet black silken coated cat greeted me. It was sitting in one of the corners resting slightly on the edges that skirted the garden of our cottages in the resort. And was silently watching the world pass by. I being one of those click friendly people started taking its photograph to show it to my cat lover school buddies.

 All was fine so far, however things started turning strange. The cat started stalking me. Literally, and I’m not kidding about it when I say this. It would not cross my path, and walk by my side and nimbly run a few steps ahead of me turning its head awaited for me to pass by. The moment I will cross by walking a few steps, it will repeat the same action running past me, and looking at me with greenish yellow eyes wanting to convey something. I am an animal lover and have loved dogs and cats since I was a kid. In return I have received unconditional love from them throughout my life. But I’m being honest, a sense of chill and dread blitzed through my spine. As if something is not right… somewhere something is not going right for me. I am a sensitive soul and will like to trust my instincts and gut. I quickly climbed up the stairs to my room trying to increase my distance from the animal. Once up, I told myself if the cat looks up at me directly, I will know that something will not go right for me. And the moment that thought passed my mind, the cat looked up with a piercing gaze and slowly stared climbing the stairs. I rushed into my room locking the doors firmly. For the first time since I saw the cat, I heard a piercing “Meow” right outside my door as if some evil omen waited patiently for me outside the door.  

Saying a silent prayer. I went off to sleep. And as always, I find Universe has a way of communicating, I did face my demons shortly thereafter. Let’s keep the story of disappointment for another time and place. As you never know if a life event is actually positive for you or not much later….when you look back and reminiscence. However, I am always pleasantly surprised how I am oft prepared for things that come into my life, good, bad or ugly. I have learnt to listen to the cosmic rhythms. And to every incident in your life there’s always another side to it. You just need to trust that you’ll be in a place where you’re either required to give or take. Either you learn a lesson or teach some. And once the purpose of your soul is fulfilled you are plucked from that life sequence and put into another.

Some of you’ll know, I am born and brought up in Kolkata which is in the eastern part of country and spent quarter of my life there. Never dreamt of living the city or the job where I had made friends. However life dragged me to the extreme west of the country to the city of Mumbai. Put me in another job to meet new set of folks and make new acquaintances and friends. I grew as a person and a professional. I will not say the journey had been easy but I also feel I wouldn’t have been the person I am today without the displacement.

Some people left my life, who were indispensable at one point . I thought I will not be able to breathe a minute without them. However some newer souls dropped into my life almost from thin air and helped me survive the loss. Helped me love myself once more, helped me to just be happy.

Being a liver transplant patient, I’m often questioned on my mortality. Folks find it unbelievable that I’m comfortable with my life and its limited trajectory. But I know deep down I have spiritually evolved because of that one goddamned illness. It taught me kindness. I know how hard it’s for people to bear the burden of prolonged life threatening illness. It taught me humility. I know how dependent you may have to be for your basic movements and needs on others.  It taught me gratitude towards all those who had been kind and compassionate during my journey to recovery. It also taught me one valuable lesson. That Life is all about impermanence. 

So irrespective of whether the cat is black or white. Irrespective of whether you’re being warned of bad omen or getting happy signals from the universe, it’s not going to last. Simply because you are not going to last. 

I hope dear Reader you do not take your wins or losses so seriously. Don’t be caged by your own perceptions or others’. There’s always another way of looking at things. You will be where you’re meant to be, with those you’re meant to be with, learning lessons from the school of life. One of my revered teachers had once mentioned in one of his teachings a meditation practice, where you wish for  yourself only one thing - “ let me rest in great equanimity without any attachment or aversion “. I wish you the same.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Stories from the Mountains

 Hello dearest Reader,

By the time you’ll read this, I would have left my mountain perch and have gone back to my bustling sea side metropolis. I’m sure, all the stories that strangely crop up as you walk through the mountains, talking to locals there, will dissipate in the rush hour traffic and creepy crawling of emails hitting my work mailbox. So before I forget let me share it with you just like the first sip of piping hot Temi tea as you wake up to the Kanchendzonga.

As I was spending the first evening with my soul sister and her family sitting in their warm cosy drawing room, catching up on the stories from monasteries and her practice, the topic gently tumbled on to our pet dogs. She and her daughter who is my dearest heart niece (I fondly call her Baby D), had lost a slew of dogs one after the other. My heart niece was obviously heart broken. Loosing pets is no mean feat and her young heart must have been badly bruised as she faced such grief in such an age. 

One of the stories I heard is of a mixed breed named Gasa. He was a mix of Husky and Mountain breed which I conveniently forget. He supposedly lost his heart to a local female dog who was adopted by a neighbouring Bengali family. Initially all tried to keep these two apart but Gasa having more freedom than his human counterparts would cry his lung out forlornly every night when tied to his post. I don’t know what prompted aunty to have mercy on Gasa, whether she empathised with the love lorn creature or wanted to have soundless peaceful sleep, but finally the decision was taken to let Gasa go to his lady love. As they say, the streets of love are murky and never easy, Gasa’s love used to spend her nights in the bedroom of her adopted parents. So Gasa had to do with scratching the main door and breaking through their fence in pursuit of eternal love. 

A few days later the neighbouring family had planned a trip to their hometown for a month. They arranged for their pet to be taken care of by a family staying in the nearby village. It was agreed that on the day of their travel Gasa would not be allowed out as he could have follow his lady love to the village. As planned, Gasa was locked up for the day. The family departed and in the evening Gasa was let loose for his nightly walks. The next morning Gasa was found dead in front of the porch of the neighbour's with no telltale sign of any injury. It was a massive heart attack. And the one and some years Gasa died out of heartbreak. The local vet confirmed that such incidents do happen with dogs.

When I heard the story, I felt a bit shaken. I know how death feels dearer than life to a broken heart. A heartbreak manifests physically with excruciating pain. You can check around to see it in your world. Sure there are enough live stories lurking in the nooks and crannies of your lives. I wish Gasa had given himself another chance. 

Love does come in many forms and shapes and rarely can be bottled in one glass container. Spiritually Hinduism speaks about Samsara Dharma. Philosophical texts will tell you that Dharma is “ Jaha tomake dharan kore” meaning that which holds you. So Samsara Dharma is explained as a form of sacred responsibility for us who are born into the cycle of Samsara. What makes you a yogi is when you can fulfill your responsibilities with utmost sincerity, love and compassion without getting attached. It is a form of spirituality , a journey where you dedicate yourself to the service of your circle. 

Some love is complete in its existence. It defies logic built by current societal norms.Think Shree Radhika Yog. We get an essence of it in our music, folklore and Vaishnavite texts. Where love of Shree Radha is epitomised as a means of worshipping the eternal. Where you love with all your being, the one and only. Your love don't have to reach a culmination. You do not need to share a life path. You do not need to seek outside of you, who you love. You feel the presence of love in every mountain ledge when watching the glory of sunset. You are never alone as you splash on the gurgling stream.You are together in your prayers, wishing happiness and freedom from suffering. 

Strangely the biggest love story of our culture glorifies a love which was never fulfilled. As the story goes, Shree Radhika and Shree Krishna, went their ways, lived their lives, fought their battles and reared their families. Yet there was an eternal love between them which is revered. I wish Gasa knew about it. I wish Gasa didn’t give up. I wish someone taught him to move on. He had sacred responsibilities to fulfil towards his adopted family. But then some love stories do end like this.

We tend to use the often viled , rarely understood, wrongfully mystified term “Love” very loosely. I always felt “Connect” is a better word to express such luminescent emotions. I hope dear Reader,  you are living with the love of your life. If not, it’s good enough to love what you’re living. If you love someone this fiercely, then don’t give up on life. The definition of completion is different when you know how to connect. 

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Day of the Dakinis

 Dearest Reader,

It had been weeks of celebration in India.  I fondly call it the Autumn festivals for the Devine Feminine. I hail from the Eastern part of India and in my parts of the world Feminine is revered, loved and worshipped. We started off the slew of festivities with Durga Puja, worshipping the strength and power of feminine. Durga is all about getting rid of all that is evil. We follow it up with Lakshmi puja, which unlike the rest of India occurs on a full moon night in the Bengali calendar. It’s called the Kojagori Purnima, and the Goddess of wealth and well being is ushered into every home. There’s a saying “Chanchala Lakshmi” meaning the wealth has a fickle mind and doesn’t stick to any unless efforts are put to keep it within the threshold of our homes. Funnily during Lakshmi Puja, Bengalis don’t gong the bell The belief being the sound of bells will startle the Goddess and she might decide to leave the home concerned. We close the loop with praying to the wrathfull form of Feminine divinity by worshiping to Kali. The naked dark form with anger painting its being.  Beautiful Kali adorns a garland of human skulls with tongue protruded out. She is offered meat and alcohol amongst other things and is worshipped at midnight. She’s the destroyer of all the darkness we harbour inside of us. The ‘Tamasik’s of our existence is offered to her for annihilation.

Amidst these festivities I had planned a trip to the mountains with my son. This was a gift to us, where the mystic in him was to be brought to life amidst the fold of the mountains. As he took his first steps to embrace the calling of the wild, I saw the enraptured lost eyes of my boy. And when I say wild, I mean all that is not urban, not bound by reason, unstructured, unfathomable magic of the universe. Once you taste it, everything else falls apart. 

On such a journey to a small village called Bikshthang in the western folds of the Mountain state Sikkim, nestles a Farmhouse I call my own. I feel rooted to this land with eons of Karmic connection. I never knew the family or the place but chanced upon it on a stray Google search in 2014. Since then this place have become home and the family has adopted me as their own. I return every year to connect with my roots and offer my gratitude for being blessed with having at least one wee corner of the earth where I belong.

These Sikkimese family following Tibetan Buddhism (which I drown myself in as a seeker) taught me many of their customs and rituals. The sound of Gong from their prayer alter, the chants of the monks and curling smoke of the dried pines all seems familiar, too familiar. Today being the 25th Day in the Tibetan Lunar calendar, is dedicated to the Dakinis. The Dakinis symbolise the female energy of enlightenment and are inspiration to yogis. It is believed that on Dakini Day the feminine energy is in its peak. I prayed in the family alter for well being of all sentient beings. I prayed for the sacred power of the Dakini to bless all unions where the feminine and masculine energy unites to creates the truest form of balance. The primordial static uniting with the universal motion - for every Shakti let there be Shiva, for every Radha, let there be Krishna, for every Tara let there be AmoghaSidhdhi. 

I wonder if there was a ludicrous coincidence playing truants when I was being named after I was born. My name means a feminine divine form which roams the sky. In other words my name is a Sanskrit synonym to the Tibetan Dakini. My grandma from my mother’s side fondly called me Krishnapriya, which means the love of Krishna or Sri Radhika. And then I was let loose in this world to play the role of a seeker. To love in its tangible and intangible forms with a ferocity of Dakini and live impermanence in a material world as every Seeker does. Such love can be showered on the folds of the mountains and the whispers of the wind, on the dancing of the rivers and flutters of butterflies. Such love can be harboured for one and many, for all and for none, for known and for unknown, for past and for future.

So dear Reader on this auspicious Dakini Day, I send you prayers for you and yours. May the love that holds you, hold true to you till you breathe your last.

Always yours,

Pocket full of Life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 1 : Lazy life

 Hello dearest Reader,

Hope you had good week and enjoying your weekend break from the daily humdrum. Weekends feel special, at least for some of us as we tend to stop negotiating our lives with the running clock. Otherwise the days of our lives are so tuned to match those two stick like caricatures rushing around that face of clock, that we conveniently forget to savour living this life.

Though weekends do bring with it a pile of personal work which has been cast aside in a rush hour mayhem, the good thing is, they can be done at a more human pace than the usual jet set speed. I’m writing this, sprawled on the living room sofa, in my slouchiest, drudgery of a night dress. The colour of which has faded with time -  from moss green to splayed decaying greyish green. However, it is by far, the most comfortable, no nonsense piece I have in my wardrobe. Our four- legged grandson Mithai, is in equally lazy mode, sleeping just beneath the sofa. Comfortably resting his dreamy head on my pair of  loud pink slippers. And I can hear my son singing his wolf tune ( I can’t catch the words) but sounds like shrill howling of the wolves on a full moon night, perpetuated by weirder noises on his study desk. I suppose his pencils are playing the role of drumsticks today. By now, you can understand why the undertone of today’s musing are for obvious reasons, lazy.

As I have inched toward mid-life, I was amazed as to how delusional is the portrayal of concept of midlife crisis in our literature, writing and tv shows. In actuality, all the crises that haunted us , the women, throughout our lives actually vanishes when you reach this pinnacle of mid-life. You have resolved almost all of your problems, by only one brilliant magical statement - You Care A Damn!. 

By now, you know what looks good on you, what makeup suits you, how to do your hair, how to be your gorgeous self and most of all if someone doesn’t like it, You Care A Damn! You know where your career is taking you. Please note, home makers are also professionals in their own fields. You know how to manage your show, please your clients, work with people in your team, do upwards, downward and sideward management, to manage time, to deliver, to know when to let go and when to fight back. And most of all you know when to Care A Damn! Your husband, children, relatives, elders in your family, by now knows you. For sure, they have adapted to your idiosyncrasies, knows your crankiness, indulges your madness and have seen you at your best and worst. Most of all they have given up on any aspirations of changing you to what they think is the right version and knows in their heart that pushing you will not yield any results as You Care A Damn! At least after a point! Also by now you have collated like minded tribe of “I Care A Damn” set of folks who live and thrive with you in your seemingly mad journey of a life.

So this weekend my dear Reader I’m thriving by not doing a thing. Writing my life, which by far seems quite interesting to me. The biggest adventures are embarked on inside your head. My motionless morning is being spent looking at the azure blue sky, sparkling in the October sun. I’m lazily scrolling through all my lost love, my travels both past and future, planning my bonsai structures and my endless wisps of childhood memories in my head. I’m enjoying the sun, the heat, the silence of nothingness, the just being in existence mode of a beautiful life.

If you get a chance, do spend a day doing nothing, caring a damn about the world around you, just being happy with yourself. Enjoy being the Star in your life. Know that the cacophony which we call our world exists because you exist. When you’re not there, this world will cease for you. See you on the other side of the week.

Always your,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - Way to the heart is through the stomach

 Dearest Reader, 

Hope you’re keeping well. A few weeks hiatus was because my brother came down to my town to pay his hallowed visit. He is a phenomena. He’s quirky and witty almost as good as me but can’t do better. Loves himself and lives life king size. His affinity for a good drink and delicacies rubs off to any unsuspecting human being. He has a propensity to take you on a whirl of a ride and you can’t help but laugh your lungs out as he embraces complicacies of life with an elan of well honed magician. He will make you believe his outrageous stories, can justify seven murder and robbery with a fluidity of a lawyer and can sell that elusive ice to the even more elusive Eskimo with proficiency of a practiced salesman.

When you have such a personality visiting your home, you can be rest assured that your table will be laid heavy with good food and great conversation. To add to his unlimited list of skills, he’s a fantastic cook, and can rustle up a Lamb Biriyani good for the nawabs.During his visit ge graced us with his yummilicious Biriyani which was cooked slowly through half a day. My weak digestion and Mumbai fitness wisdom was swished aside as we indulged in his culinary creations. And ofcourse as siblings always do, even in their fortys, I had to try and out do him in the kitchen. 

So out came my well honed kitchen skills, smoothed to perfection during the Covid years. From famed Hilsa in mustard sauce, to the Prawn malaikari all arsenal was unleashed to sashay my but obvious better skills in the kitchen. One good part of getting old together as siblings is that you kind of stop underplaying the other and tend to appreciate each other more. Thank God for that, we both lapped up our home cooked food like starved soul.

Siblings generally are partners in crime and we are definitely a true blue pair of as thick as thieves could be. Our banters and free advices and standing by each other and being happy for each other, of being scared shit when life hits any one of us hard are laced with a love which has stood the test of time and have aged like a fine wine. And hence when we come together it’s a complete riot. Late night ‘adda’ ( chats) over kebabs platter, long drives to reach a good destinations, taking every possible chance to crack up on silliest things made the week memorable to say the least.

Now for sure Reader dear, you can forgive my absence in the world of writing letters. I was busy living life, to create stories so that I can share with you. If you by chance have a sibling like I do, or may  be cousins ( I’m as close to them as my own) do catch up with them. Relieve your childhood, indulge in silly laughs and late night chats. They are the only people besides your parents  who have seen through your silly days, your disastrous fashion days, your sleepless heartbreak days and your first crush days. They know your battles and struggles, your follies and weaknesses and still love you fiercely enough to shield you with their heart. 

As you dance along your life, don’t forget your partners in crime. They are in actuality your 4 am friends. Nurture and enjoy the bond. You will always have your bunch who will laugh sitting around the fire during your autumn days. And don’t forget to cook deliciousness in your lives. The way to the heart surely is through the stomach, whether you cook it, or order through a delivery app or visit the restaurants and food joints in your town.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 : Mayhems are beautiful

 Hello dearest Reader,

Hope you’re doing well and thriving in your individual lives. I’m on my ride of daily roller coaster of a life and always look forward to welcoming weekend.  Here routines are broken and doing nothing seems like a great accomplishment. I was musing as I thought over this weekend’s blog as to what prompted me to include Series 1 in this blog title. Am I dreaming of a Series 2 or a 3, like hindi movie sequel? Am I over ambitious and have such faith in my imagination that I believe I can churn out weekly blogs year after year? It was hilariously theatrical to look at my bloated ego from a distance and I couldn’t stop laughing at the incredulity of the idea.

I’m a working mom. Have a teenager and his four legged son to take care at home. Oh I forgot about the husband, he too needs to be mollycoddled enough. God has made me ambitious, and God knows why? Did He not ever think of work life balance? No body shared illuminating thoughts about how multitasking is no more the fad. And he creates a woman who wants to run a home like Martha’s Vineyard videos but also have to climb … errr, claw in a thriving career. Career thriving or not, I’m not so sure. But I’m absolutely sure that I have to thrive in this career as it allows me to pay my bills. So there you go… a living oxymoron, a home body who loves his career, an introvert who loves to travel and meet newer worlds, basically a woman who’s a contradiction in herself.If such is the woman, how on earth her weekend will be sane and picturesque. So my weekend was filled with melodramatic mayhem. 

A husband who flew to hometown for a few days had to be dropped to the airport. Not sure if anyone will resonate , at times it’s a sigh of relief when boys who you have to take care off goes out of the city. Gives you a break. Specially for me, as I thrive when I’m alone. I need my silence, my space, my nothingness to feel alive. Crazy me!! 

Following the airport drop, I had to go to my most favourite destination - Doctors chamber. And as luck would have it, this particular Doctor sat in Room number unlucky 13. And of course as such intricate working of destiny will have it, the OPD reception told the Doctor’s assistant about waiting patient (me) and she conveniently forgot. Which resulted in me running after the Doctor,  chasing him down to his car, getting my check up done finally, just in front of the hospital lobby, panting and gasping for air. Guess what was the check up all about??? Migraine!!! Solution for migraine was identified amongst a situation which can give any normal person a headache of sorts.

After my hospital tryst, I visited a Saree exhibition. For the uninitiated readers, Durga Puja is round the corners. And like any true blooded Bengali, the Divine Goddess resides in my heart months before the actual celebrations. She skilfully instigates us to splurge on everything which is traditional, beautiful, costly and beyond means. In the name of these hallowed five days of festivities, we, like hypnotised kiddies give in to buying all that catches our fancy and turn a pauper even before Puja actually kick starts. Saying it, it makes the women bond. I caught up with one of my neighbours and video called another giggling and discussing our loot over shared video calls  and messaging groups. It’s such a beautiful feeling to see how we all connect and be happy for each other’s happiness.

Finally as my husband traversed thousand kilometres to land in Kolkata I traversed fifty odd of them in the city of Mumbai and landed back home. Satiated like happy sunflowers.

As I enjoyed my sushi with my son, watching a delectable mythical folklore movie named Slumberland, I saw my happy four legged furball Mithai tearing apart newspapers and Amazon boxes in welcoming glee. But then at times mayhems are also magical, very like the movie we saw. If you can, do watch it on Netflix. Young and adult it’s for dreamers. Like us.

Hope you keep dreaming and enjoying your very own mayhem magic. See you again on the other side of the week. Till then…

Always your,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader Series 1 - From the sea

 Hello dearest Reader,

Nice to meet you all again at the other end of week. Before we all kickoff another adventurous week ahead, let me share this month’s newest activity which I could include in my repertoire. It was one of the most wonderful feeling. I did enjoy after the tedious routine of our day to day.

My wonderful husband’s birthday fell right in the middle of the week and like most of us, middle aged couples with years of marriage behind us, neither of us wanted to indulge in a mid week celebration, storing to stir up some storm over the weekend.

The birthday gift to the birthday boy was stay in Alibaug, a quaint seaside village over the weekend. Also we wanted to experience the often talked, newest addition to the city of Mumbai, fondly called RoRo. These are huge boats which ferries cars and passengers from Princess Dock of Mumbai to Mandwa Jetty near Alibag. 

It was too much fun to have the car crawl into the belly of this small ship. As we disembarked from the car and climbed the deck, the rolling sea, the cloudy, drizzly August sky welcomed us. As the vessel left port, the lapping sea divided and lapped at its skirts as we lolled towards Mandwa. It’s hard to explain how the colourful boats and water vessels of all shapes and sizes can awaken the child in you. It was blissful to surrender to the dance of the waves, the roll of the ship, the grey clouds floating by, indulging in thoughts which only belong to you.

As we reached Mandwa, we again boarded the car and sped towards the resort which was to host us for the weekend. Raddison over the years had turned out to be our favourite. The property itself was sprawling and beautiful. Its proximity to Varsoli beach was an added boon. I was in august company with my August born boys accompanying me. We strolled around in the beach soaking our feet and our hearts into the love dripping nature, as the fingers of the Gods blessed the coast with its golden lights.

The sunset cast a web of magic, as the emerald greens of the place kissed the evening softly. The narrow roads looked quiet and calm as they laced through the small villages dotting the coast. As we indulged in good food, raucous laughter, books and silence, we bonded as family in its cosiest forms.

Our tired hearts, lived a happy weekend and headed back to our nest where our beloved Mithai waited for us, not too happy at being left behind in this adventure. If you get a chance, do try out something new over any spare weekend you have.  Smell the greens, inhale a lung full of  sea salty air, let you hair blow in the monsoon wind as you stroll without having a destination in mind, nor any time to keep, just being around your own.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life