Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - Savannah Diaries

 Hello dearest Reader,

Hope you’re world is not going through portal of changes like mine and you are enjoying the last of the summer’s if you’re from the west.  And if you are a part of the east, then may be the monsoon is bringing you a bout of relief from the sultry, suffocating heat. My part of the world has started its festive season with Krishna Janmashtami and we are still in the throes of Ganesh Chaturthi. We will go on till fall touches us as we celebrate the passing of the season and the position of the stars with different representations of divinity.

But my letter comes to you not from the shores of Mumbai but from the banks of Savannah. Faraway land where I have come to see off my 18 year old who is embarking on the adventure called life. As he starts his undergrad days in this quaint historic town, I get to savour the idyllic charm of this place. You must be wondering how an empty nester is coping with the stress. Reputation of Indian moms precedes them. We are prone to mope a bit more than the others. But of course, you see our kids to us is the best Universe could create. We are those special beings brought to earth for nurturing the celestial creations, so letting go does not come easy! The natural instinct to protect the eighteen year old infants are so strong that we sometimes tend to forget our place in the scheme of things. Well retributions come super fast too. The helpless eighteen year old snaps and snarls like a wild beast and before long we give up. Albeit not at all happy.

Folks around me threw a billion platitudes. Some very philosophical - asked me to let go. Some very frantic was absolutely convinced that I’m heartbroken. Some prophesies that I would embrace my freedom and some thought I now have all the time of the world. So let me share snippets of my quirky mind . It may help you, if not it sure will bring a smile to your face.

Have you seen two overlapping lines? When we were kids. We would draw pencil lines on white pages. And then to make it a bit thicker and bold, we would draw a darker line on the original. Having a baby boy (because mine is a boy) is somewhat like that. Your life moves like a pencil lines across the spectrum of the universe till you start nurturing a life inside you. Once you’ve another heartbeat inside you, it’s two lives walking similar paths. You holding, nurturing, caring and protecting another life. If fierceness had a face then probably that’s how mothers protect their babies. The instinct to create, nurture and shield is as primordial as creation itself. And then at one point in the journey you have to let that life go its own way. One single line diverges. They run their own course, sometimes running parallel to the mother line, sometimes crossing and sometimes simply touching before parting once again. But today’s story is all about the mother line. What happens to her when the weight of guarding a life slowly shifts. I don’t know about others but let me tell you’ll about mine.

As I walked the streets of Savannah, guarded by aged tress, Spanish moss laden and dark, a strange sense of completeness wrapped around me. The mossy entanglement decorating the branches like that of Christmas decoration, made me feel lighter. Like a feather. As if I have completed quarter of a purpose of my life. Done and dusted with the karmic give and take. I felt free. Something lifted off my spirit. A feeling of accomplishment. A job well done! And I felt I can go my way without turning back. It may sound strange to your ears, but a sense of peace engulfed me. The antique shops, laden with curios, the Savannah honey - enticing tourists, the paintings and the artwork on the street, the graffiti on the walls enchanted me. The southern sojourn was like a breath of fresh air after crazy last few months. We walked miles, tasted the hot chicken wings, laughed as we devoured gigantic dollops of ice-creams and my boys and I had a blast. The cruise on the river Savannah was like a lullaby and the trip to Tybee island was enchanting. We toured the city on a trolley and also took ride to check out the most haunted places in the city. Savannah had its history wrapped round numerous folklores. It was exactly what the heart required. There was no agenda as such, we only needed to settle the young lad into his new life. And as one of his quintessential wisecracks go - “Change is easy when you’re easing into it” - we all were easing into the changing life. A change for each one of us.

When you will read this letter, I would still be walking the streets of Savannah,  enjoying my summer break, shopping, eating cookies, sipping on ice cool slushes and splashing on the fountains at the public parks. A few more days of trying out new restaurants every day, tasting the Savannah reaper, enjoying the glorious sunsets, before I say goodbye to the town which would teach my fledgling to trail blaze his sky. I am thrilled to bits as I can embark on my own adventures, of discovering new stories and charting my own path through the stars. 

My letters will bear testimony to the zing of my life and I hope my pocket will be full of stories to share. Till you hear from me again, keep yourself happy. And write to me if you feel like. Stories are always meant to be exchanged.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - View

 Hello Dearest Reader,

I hope you’re keeping well and life has been fair or at least kind. I am told that the celestial situation and our planets are not conducively  positioned enough and hence life everywhere is a bit jerky and chaotic. I’m neither a believer nor a naysayer as far as astrology is concerned but I do believe that life is uncertain and unpredictable. Hence each one of us should have a few handy tools to help us navigate it.

I’m a born Hindu, practice Tibetan Buddhism, completely believe in Santa, secret or not and ardent fan of Biriyani rustled up during Eid. I’m a devout nobody and some may label me as opportunist. I treat divinity as part of my daily life. But this blog is not about my spiritual beliefs, it’s about your practices that may help you in your day to day.

If you remember in my last letter I mentioned that my life crumbled like rubbles of a burning tower. Changes and shifts in my tectonic plates of life shook me to my core. Outside things remained routine but internally parts of me died. In Buddhist teachings it’s often mentioned that from the minute we are born we die every moment and celebrate it as life. I was experiencing death in many forms. As a daughter I was coming in terms with my parents aging. In similar capacity, I was accepting that I’d never be enough. I barely recognised my role as a spouse. What started twenty years back and what it has metamorphosed into has no similarities. And as a mother confronting your adult son is as painful as giving him birth the first time. It comes with anxiety, fear, uncertainty and unconditional love. You need to teach yourself the art of unparenting. Suddenly from playing the role of a controller in your child’s life, you become a consultant. Advice to be given only when solicited. The wheel of change was on the prowl and I was it’s easy prey.

Amidst all the chaos we changed houses. Same housing complex different apartment. This caused a change in view. The same greenery of Arey colony looked very different from the new balcony at the twentieth floor. Nest as the name suggests are always meant to be changed. Each of them serves a season. This new place struck a deeper cord. In Buddhist teachings, there is always a mention of “View”. Basis of every practice is holding the right “view”. This move changed my view, literally and figuratively.

I realised that every shift becomes more meaningful if you can hold the right view. You can empathise without being pulled into emotional whirlpool. You can step back and watch relationships evolve. You can soak in the joy of watching your fledgling fly. And you can love deeply, without craving. Just like the same green Arey looked like a photo from Coorg when the view shifted. Every change gives us an opportunity to look at things differently. We all educate ourselves, teach ourselves life skills but often forget to train our minds. Lucky are those who gets the opportunity to observe the nature of mind and equip themselves to cope with the internal landscape. I have been blessed to have great Teachers who taught me the basics with utmost care. I am able to keep afloat.

So my dearest reader, peep into your tool kit. See which one will help you survive changes. I can guarantee, your body, your mind, your relationships, your external and internal circumstances will keep shifting. Hold the “View”….a change may land you a greener vista when you really look. Sending you sunshine and cool breeze , so that you can breathe a sigh of content amidst chaos.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series - 3 - Shift

Dearest Reader,

Hope time is treating you with kindness and you are thriving at your own pace. My world though has shifted gears and the trajectory has angled into a direction which I am yet to fathom. But you had been a great listener and storytelling is the oldest form of entertainment and most effective means to pass on generational experience on to the future. Hence let me tell you the story of the collapse and the story of the shift - inside out.

Honestly it didn’t start middle of the year we are living in, but if I think through and look back, the veil started to tear last year with a humongous professional change. I changed jobs, because one day I realised that in the quest of professional growth I have trapped myself into a cage of expectations created by others. I also realised that I have given all that I had & could but it never seemed good enough. It dawned on me that the people I worked with, clients I worked for and the self which is raking in the hours are benefiting nothing because of the shackles in which the situation was entangled. Then one bright blue morning I did for the first time what I should have long ago, drew my boundaries. Saying’No’ needs the courage to let go of what seems normal and routine. But from deep corners of my soul the courage and the nonchalance spilled like hot lava. It felt like I was simply taking a professional decision. But now when I think of it, it, was the first of my letting go. I had let go of what I believed was my professional goals, I had let go of attachment, I had let go of trusting people blindly and without any malice. I had foraged my learning and was grateful. I was amazed at life for relentless throwing of obstacles till I learnt my lessons till I learned to draw my boundaries. I still work. But I’m a different beast. Zero attachment to attention in professional space creates corporate ninjas. Decisions are taken with zen like calmness. 

I should have suspected but had no inkling what more was to come into my world . But when you’re meant to change, shift occurs in all phases of your life. Every thing you knew as your world start falling like a burning tower. The deepest part of my being knew that this is the time for closure. The karmic cycles which tows you round and round needs to be broken. Cords will get cut, you’ll bleed but whatever remains of you will be different but stronger. Like every other mother, the girl in me died the day I held my baby boy. I have raised him with a fierceness of a wounded tigress. Nurtured him with my blood and fought my destiny to see him grow. I have shielded him till he became a weapon himself and now it’s time to step back. It’s time to let him walk his path. My job had been to be the wind beneath his wings and he’s ready to soar and fly. You see the cords are getting cut. And I’m owning back myself bit by bit.

For the last twenty six years I have tried to make a home out of strangers. I have given everything I had and nurtured relationships. Not faking a minute. Loved and held it close in a protective circle. Everything I did was to hold my unit together. I had given more than I could and never expected much in return, besides hoping that these strangers who became home to a girl will help her in nurturing the unit. But you see life only puts you in situations so that you evolve. However much we feel we are doing things for the entire world, the underlying purpose of it all is your own evolution. When what you call your home is snatched away from you in flash of a second, you realise the impermanence of everything. Few words and every thing you built over all these years shattered in seconds. Few words and the unit you loved was broken. Your giving, your loving, your sacrifices, your home or atleast the meaning of it changed colours in front of your eyes. You realised that trampling on people who are quiet is natural human instinct. Some will use words to create drama and some will throttle you with silence. And like the job which I had left last year, I realised that I’m adding no value to the lives I’m living with. At least not in this form. And then I took refuge….to the mountains.

I will own without shame, that I actually fled. Fled because the destruction of the life I had created in my mind, for so many years was devastating to watch. The burning embers of its remnants singed me. And I needed to crumple and weep in the folds of my mountains. I needed to be home, the home that my soul recognises. And as I hunkered low putting up a brave front a very slow realisation crept into me. All this was meant to be. I had to evolve into my being. The meaning of my existence is in my being. I do not need to exist for anyone else or be defined by roles I took upon myself. I have walked the path with different souls as long as I was meant to be. Just the way it was meant to be. I have loved and have been loved the way it should have been and now I have outrun the longevity of it all. The purpose has been fulfilled and hence the closure came in its own volition.

The path ahead is shrouded just like the misty mountain roads. But the prayer flags do send the prayers for all sentient beings with the waves of the wind and I know my refuge will hold me good. It was the precious Saga Dawa month celebrated by Buddhists all over. A month where you pray for every aspect of life. As I soaked in the clean air of Yuksom or when I climbed to the Monastery in Tashiding, I prayed for the part of me which died. I prayed for the new born me. I prayed for strength and kindness and gentleness. I prayed till I cleansed myself of all the waiting. There’s no more waiting, no more expecting, no more hoping that others will understand you or acknowledge you. There’s only purest aspirations of being in awareness, with gentle kindness and wisdom. The shift has happened. Silently with no paramount changes outward. But from the ashes of the crumble, rose a steady calm inside.

Wishing you all, calm after every storm in your life.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life
 

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - Soul Connect

 Hello Dearest Reader,

It had been almost a month since I last wrote to you. And if I’m honest to myself then I must admit that you crossed my mind a few times. But then life has its quirk. It often like doom scrolling on your cell phones, drags you along in its current. You pass the hours mindlessly caught up in chores. So I simply ignored the keyboard and made excuses to not share a story. However, stories lazed and floated all around me waiting to be passed on.

The picture you see on top, are of three women who are friends. Once upon a time they were young girls. They were fourteen when life ensured that their paths crossed. One of us joined the school where the other two studied since nursery. And somehow she became a part of the group. Middle class Bengali ethos was what tied us all together. We had parents who harped on a good education and better grades. There were curfew hours set at sundown when we had to be back home. We ate the same kind of food, loved our Hindi movie songs, danced to Michael Jackson numbers, abhorred maths, shared each other’s tiffins, laughed at all the inane things of the world, had crushes every five days and heartbreak every week. We also had a wonderful school which nurtured us and we thrived well within its walled compound. 

With not much liberty to roam our city, our safe spaces where each other’s homes. Our parents were comfortable that we girls would hang out with each other. The holidays would invariably see us getting dropped at each other’s places in the morning and being picked up in the evening, depending on who’s hosting the lunch that day. Mind you no dinners. Sundown and we had to be back home. But those afternoons and hours in school forged a friendship which withstood time and tests of life. We passed out of school. Shivering and shaking in anticipation of our Accountancy marks. We all were almost sure that we would not score pass mark. And one of our moms made an astonished comment on how three girls together could be so academically uninclined to be in  the same fear sunk-hole just before results.Thankfully we managed to score in our seventy’s and saved ourselves from more scathing remarks from any of our parents.

We survived the flush of first love and supported each other from the crushing heartbreaks that followed. We interviewed would-be spouses of each other to certify if they are fit to enter our lives. We knew each other’s families and extended ones too. We supported each other when we got married and realised there’s nothing rosy about it. We cribbed about our jobs, career and frustration that came with it. We celebrated birthdays, small wins, by sharing a dinner or yapping over coffee. We saw one of our child group up to be almost and adult and championed him as if he was our own. We prayed when there was illness and suffering and rallied around each other through thick and thin..

Some souls walk the earth as a group. They become the support system, the sounding board, the champions of each other’s causes, and are tied by some karmic blessings. When one of us left home town to shift to Mumbai after getting married, the second followed suit in search of a better career few years later. The third moved to the same city further down the line as the husband got transferred and the three women anchored together in Mumbai.These women you see are one of those bright shining examples of soul group which walk the earth together and remain the support bedrock for each other. 

Recently we were together to grieve one of our parent’s passing. The memories flooded our conversations. The lunches, the laughter and Mashi’s snap comments as we grew up - all came tumbling. One of us grieved and we grieved along with her. One of us felt lost and the others tried to form a circle of love to heal. And the house which held sepia tainted memories of giggling girls in the summer afternoons saw three women grieving and bidding farewell to a part of their childhood.

You can see the picture of the dear departed on the wall behind us and with her we lost part our growing up years. We have now entered the phase where our younger years will lose space in memories as they have from reality. All those elders who witnessed it, will slowly walk away from this plane leaving us utterly alone and forcing us to play the role they once played. But so mighty glad I’m of this friendship which lasted years and seems like it has lasted lifetimes, that my heart swells with gratitude. I’m one lucky woman to have two wise souls standing guard, watching, accepting, supporting and loving unconditionally.

So dearest reader if you have taken as many rounds around the sun as me, I hope to God, you have picked up some friends like these. They will make your happiness grow tenfolds and your grief a lot more bearable. These friendships make walking this earth not only worth it, but fun. You will laugh even on your gloomiest day because you have pocket full of sunshine at your disposal. Hurry! Reach out to those rare souls and tell them how much they mean to you.

Till the next story, always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - Maha Kumbh: Once in a lifetime

 Hello dearest Readers,

Hope you’re well and enjoying the miracle called life. More often than not in the course of daily drudgery we forget that life is but a miracle and if we keep our senses and heart open, astonishing things do happen. Today’s story is all about how life threw at me a beautiful gift, wrapped in simplicity and joy, just out of the blue.

I’m spiritual if I might say so with humility but I’m not a very religious minded person. As in, I rarely feel the need to to go to temples or religious gatherings to do my practice. I feel  it’s very personal. If at all there is any sense of urgency - it’s my need to run away from the social humdrum. I prefer natural surroundings where only sound of silence pervades. I generally have an aversion towards too many people or a crowded place. My peace and my prayers search seclusion and thrive when I’m alone.

But then like I said, life catches you unaware and throws you into situations which are at times impossible even to dream of. As you might know, I started this year fulfilling my long time desire to try paragliding. I was on my way to the flight destination when scrolling through my Facebook page, I saw a post from my aunt-in-law. She mentioned about her visit to Maha Kumbh and shared lovely pictures of the gathering and the holy dip. Now a girl born and brought up in Allahabad (now called Prayagraj), it was no surprise that she’d be able to navigate the frenzy of Maha Kumbh. Her family is based out of the city and it was wonderful to see them enjoying themselves. As it happens when you connect with family on social media , I put a comment on her post stating how I wish I was there. Mind you, I was then on my way to Kamshet super excited about my paragliding expedition. Lo and behold, pat came a response, from my Kaki (aunt in law) asking me to plan a visit to Maha Kumbh end of February when all of them would be in Prayagraj again.

I was flummoxed at first, not sure if I ought to take the plunge and take her up on that invitation. To the uninitiated, Maha Kumbh is the largest religious gatherings in the world and it is considered sacred for the Hindus. The Maha Kumbh happens every 144 year at the confluence of the river Ganga, Yamuna and the mythical river Saraswati. Now something which happens every 144 years can only happen to someone in a lifetime or may be not. So I decided in my mind that if life takes me to Maha Kumbh, I will not resist it. I would go with the flow and trust the Universe to guide me through.

I’m not elaborating much about Maha Kumbh because I think the whole world was made aware of the phenomenon through social media and news channels. The hype around it resulted in such a frenzy that almost everyone rushed to experience it causing all kinds of accidents and anxiety to public. My family was acutely nervous at my steadfast intentions. I was going solo, though Kaki’s family very graciously agreed to host me for the two days and promised to take me around like a true blue local. But let me not deviate from the topic of miracles. Such decisions come at a cost I had heard. You are tested to see if you’re actually meant to be at the place your heart is calling out for.

Few weeks before the trip suddenly, I developed severe issues of haemorrhoid. So much of pain that I could neither sit down nor lie. The only comfortable position was to stand upright as much as possible. Every one in my family was convinced that I should cancel my plans. There was a high chance that a surgery would be required to fix me. Flight tickets were already booked and I literally had to fight to not get it cancelled. My doctor always an angel from above saved me by saying that meds would suffice. I was much better within a week. I will be honest, the experience shook me a bit. Not because of the pain, but the thought that I might need to walk miles, jostle amidst crowd of millions with a health condition not too palatable. But I kept telling myself, if I don’t recover completely, I will be open to dropping my plans. But determined not to give up before the d-day. Too make things worse, 4 days before my scheduled travel, I had a severe bout of allergic reactions. I was at work and one of my colleagues noticed there were bursts of rashes in both my hands. I almost freaked out and was convinced that my trip is not meant to happen. As I frantically consulted my dermatologist, he calmly asked me to observe. There was no sensation whatsoever and that was the only solace. Strangely as the symptoms arose from nowhere, it disappeared into nothingness in 48 hours. And I was finally able to board my flight to Pryagraj on 22nd of February.

Maha Kumbh for me was beautiful. I took the dip and if you look at the picture above, you’d probably be able to gauge the happiness I felt. But I experienced Maha Kumbh more acutely amidst the family which hosted me. I have never met them before. But the warmth and the kindness that was showered on me was unfathomable. Relationships were built impromptu. Suddenly strangers became masi and mami ( aunts) mama & mesho (uncles). All the kids became dewars (brother in laws) and bonhomie embraced us. There was no pretence, there was nothing extra to mar the natural candour of simplicity. There was laughter, dance, late night drives, awesome food, love and overall a gentle acceptance of divine in every human heart. I feel life brought me to Maha Kumbh to take a dip in simple joys. It reminded me everything that is good in the world is also created by the human heart. Like I said, I don’t know what merit I earned by bathing at the Sangam (confluence of the holy rives) but I know my purpose of being in Maha Kumbh in this lifetime was attained. 

The boat ride on the river Yamuna which girdled the Allahabad Fort took us to Sangam. The river was flocked with beautiful migratory birds and equal number of boats.. It was a surreal sight to watch the birds float on the river. After the holy dip as the boat started rowing back to the ghats, a beautiful flock of those white birds flew over the boat. Almost sanctifying our holy dip and blessing the wish fulfilment of being a part of Maha Kumbh. Like I said, life is a miracle if you know how to experience it. I bonded with family who I haven’t met for a very long time and made new ones. 

My earnest request to you my Readers is to keep the windows of your mind open and have some space to embrace the world. You would see miracles unfolding as you walk the path. Till we meet again.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - Radhe Radhe

 Hello Dearest Reader,

Hope you’re keeping well. This time round, my part of the world barely got a glimpse of winter. It was unpalatably warm and my trips to cooler parts of the country through last December and this January disappointed me. Seems global warming has shifted from being just an intellectual discussion to a life impacting phenomena. The weather outside was quite dull and Mumbai pollution cast a pall to my mood. And at the cusp of the first two months of this year, I had a sudden deep desire to see my Krishna. As the thought sprang to my mind, I decided to fulfil it.

I am at that stage of my life, where I have learnt to let the universe lead me on my path. Thankfully my circumstances allow me to make independent choices and my personal decisions usually go unchallenged. Guided by innate instincts, I land up doing things which at times cannot be fathomed by sceptics. So I packed my bags, allowed myself a day or two of leave and headed towards Vrindavan. No specific agenda in mind, but just to see Him. Quietly flew out of the maximum city at wee hours of one morning.

Now trips like this should be tread with curiosity and humour. The purpose of such trips are the trips themselves. And as luck would have it, I was caught by a googly right at the start of the journey. I boarded the flight on scheduled time. I only had my cabin luggage for the weekend trip with me. Managed to locate my seat and as I tried to shove my backpack in the cabin above, the main chain of my bag broke. Out tumbled my stuff showering overhead. It was embarrassing and awkward to say the least. Remembering to be calm, and recalling the fun loving nature of Krishna, I smiled through the benevolent look of my fellow passengers, feeling goofy and helpless inside. I finally managed to stuff things back, but couldn’t chain the bag up. With open bag dangling at my back, landed at Delhi, Terminal 1. And oh! Surprise galore! Landing at the airport I realised, my body has decided to start its cycle before time. No reason or rhyme, just being a rebel at inopportune times. Urgh….. how frustrating things could be. I don’t want to take you through the ordeal of carrying a dangling open bag to the airport washroom and fixing myself up. But it suffices to say, if meeting someone you love can be this difficult, then you wonder if He at all wants to see you in the first place! However the rest of the journey to Vrindavan was uneventful. Barring the fact that all sound bites of Delhi being freezing did not make much sense. The afternoon sun blazed through the car shield as it flew towards Vrindavan. It was quite warm to say the least. 

The hotel was a good one and a known one. This was my second visit. But India today still gets taken aback to see a solo woman traveller. From the reception to the bell boy, everyone kept frantically searching for the man who was supposed to be with me but was not there. I had to hold back my bubbling laughter at their discomfort. Almost mentioned that I have come to meet Krishna , and hence did not bring any other ‘him’ with me. 

I read somewhere and you might laugh at my gullibility, that people born on 6th usually come to this life to search and understand love. There might be millions of you, for whom this might not hold true, but for me strangely, it does. First third of my life I frantically waited for love to happen. Then I learnt that it can ruin you. And in the last leg, I have understood a little bit about it, touched its hem maybe. But strangely it’s nothing which I thought it was but encompassed every single emotion that has touched me till date. The biggest realisation I had was that loving is a self sufficient act. You don’t need anything to love. Not even the person. You can be love. The reason I’m sharing this with you is because I understand the struggle of searching for it. Please stop if you’re grappling with this elusive emotion! I suggest, try sensing it instead. Give it a shot. You’ll glimpse it, feel it and be swept by it. The trip to Vrindavan was just that. I was swamped. My body and mind tuned in to what is mine.

I had never visited Nidhivan earlier, so my heart was set to see the place. The story goes that Shree Krishna and Shree Radhika, still does Ras ( Devine dance) every night in this garden of Tulsi. The temple and the garden sits amidst the town but all windows of the houses facing the garden are closed. The lore goes no one lives to describe the dance if they see the Raas. The garden is filled with monkeys and birds chirping during the day, but with sundown, a divine silence shrouds the place. The temple where priest keeps jewellery and clothes, paan and laddu as offerings to Shree Radhika before locking its gates,  remains closed till next day sunrise. Once the doors are opened next day, the bed is seen trampled, the jewellery scattered, the laddus eaten and the paan chewed. No one knows how it happens. But it happens every night. They say there are 16000 Tulsi trees in the garden, who all turn into Gopinis (devine consort) at night and joins the Raas. It’s upto you to believe the story or not. But sure there is romance wrapped in every nook of the lore.

I soaked in the environment as I walked the garden. Imagine what kind of love it could be, which defied consequences, social stigma, marital restrictions, destiny and even time. Probably when they roamed the earth, they may have spent a few years together and rest of their lives was spent being away from each other. Leading their individual lives and walking their life path. Yet so tied they are together, that even today thousands flock to see this place which resonates with their  love. What kind of energy would have been generated which sanctified the emotion of two souls and made it immortal. 

As I made my offering the priest handed me the Prasad and put a churni (veil) over my head which had been offered to Shree Radhika. Feeling happy I turned to walk out of the temple. On the staircase, I felt a tug at the churni from behind as if someone held it or stepped on it. It slipped from my head and partially touched the floor. I turned back thinking it got stuck somewhere, but there was no one behind me. The priests sat at the alter way behind. I looked back surprised, absolutely sure that my churni got stuck and was pulled off my head. Heard the laughter of the priests sitting at the alter. They told me laughing, “Kanha dopatta khich raha hain, dobara yaha ana parega “. (Krishna is pulling your veil and calling you back, you’ll need to visit Vrindavan again). I smiled at them and walked away. The place is filled with simple joys and complete faith. The folks here, take the existence of divine as way of life, with laughter and ease.

But then my purpose of visit  was not only to understand love but also to see Krishna . Hence I walked towards Banke Bihari Temple from Nidhivan. The most beautiful idol of the Lord is supposed to be here. The lore goes, Shree Radhika curved the statue out of stone, creating Krishna just the way She saw Him in Her heart. She missed Him so desperately that the idol seemed alive and looking at her when She completed. Which ever corner of the temple you stand, it would seem to you that He is looking at you with love. During the day the eyes take a silver hue and after sundown a golden hue. So there I went. Saw Him as much as my heart could taken in and quietly left the temple from the side. Avoiding the surge of crowd and knowing deep down that He has seen me as I have seen Him. Tryst over. I spent the night deliciously alone with my thoughts and prayers, my love and desires, knowing with absolute surety that the feelings are mine to feel and they are sacrosanct in themselves.

Now if you are reading this letter and wondering what I’m chasing and why I keep running to such places, let me share a little secret. The few breaths that I have left, I want to live my life on my own terms. Sanctifying my emotions and being true to them helps me to be authentic. I don’t lie to anyone or to myself. I don’t fake anymore and I have drawn my barriers where required. I am completely immersed in my truth and I’m quite aware it’s not perfect. It is evolving as I am. But I’m ok with this version of myself at this point of time At times the biggest act of love is to put someone else’s wishes before yours. The hardest thing one can possibly do is to move away and withdraw because that’s what is being asked of you. Yet loving unconditionally, with every breath. And if I’m yours, I’m completely yours…whether you know it or not, whether you acknowledge it or not, whether you want to be a part of it or not. However much I’m yours, I am authentically so and you’ll know it if you ever touch my life. And where I have drawn barriers, that’s sacrosanct too. I don’t give more than what is required of me. I have learned to not waste my energy en mass all the time. 

It hadn’t been easy, to reach here. Rather rough and I’ve got bruised as I’ve traversed the path . But I can assure you, it’s a journey worth the while. Being in love is never easy. Specially when you have to ensure that it includes yourself too. One should try it though. It’s an adventure worth taking. 

The last thing I heard as I was leaving Vrindavan behind - “ Radhe Radhe….Shyam mila de”. ( Where all prayers are to Shree Radhika, for Her to allows a glimpse of Krishna ). I would say love like Her, to get a glimpse of Him. Vrindavan grows on you slowly.

Till we meet again with another story.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 3 - Flying away

 Hello dearest Reader, 

January has begun with an aplomb. My 2025 top 10 list had a note which clearly required me to do something which I have never tried before. Of all the things I listed down, this one kept pulling me. Now those who don’t know me well, I’m not an adventurous sort. To top it, I’m extremely lazy. You literally need to pay me to have me move my limbs. Given this context, I was at my wits end as to should I try my hand at. Usually, I stick to new cuisines, or visiting new places or to the most picking up a new hobby. But all those have been done.

So I kept wracking my brains. One thing I have in oodles is courage. I usually don’t fear anything. And I have an affinity to the air element. Case in point airports relaxes my nerves.Turbulence in flights lulls me to sleep. My favourite pass time is to catch the glimpse of sunlight underneath the wings of a flying eagle. These birds pull me as they float across the sky, solo or at times with a mate.

I can spend a night gazing at the starry sky or romancing the moon. The night breeze whispering in my ears sweet nothings. My childhood saw a lot of thunderstorms. Bengal and its countryside is a sight when cyclone hits. The gust of wind whirls the dry dust and leaves into its embrace. I would sit in wonder and watch as the storm raged across the surrounding vistas. Peeking through the windows or sitting close to the balcony watching with glee as the wind twirled my hair and kissed my cheeks. 

So I decided that I should try my hand at going with the wind. Paragliding would be my adventure of choice. The thrill of leaving the solid stability of earth and gliding across the sky on the wings of the wind was a charming thought. More so cause, no effort was required. You have an instructor, the vehicle from the nearby Homestay takes you to the flying spot, the crew secures you in the entrapment and attaches you to the parachute and you’re ready to fly. The only thing you need to do is jump off the cliff, which was no big deal. At least for me, it was the least of the worries.

The Homestay, we often visited was cosy little place just beside the Pawna lake in Kamshet. The room painted sunny yellow opened into a courtyard canopied with white blossoms. The sequinned Rajasthani bandhni curtains fluttered in the January breeze. We checked in. My man decided to accompany me, quite nervous that his only wife might fly away and never return. However much I insisted that I’m capable enough to survive this adventure solo, but he was adamant. You see, he had a very opposite kind of emotion attached to this flying, the mysterious wind and a human floating away. He cursed the day when such a thought made home into my heart and for his own peace of mind decided to follow me.

My destiny was planning slyly behind my back. It decided to crack a joke at my expense and was truly conniving to make me do what exactly what I detested. Make efforts. I was warned that wind might play truant and if the wind is not on your side, then such flights are cancelled without notice. We came in for a day. I was jittery that if luck doesn’t favour us then my trip to Kamshet will go futile. In the meanwhile my instructor Vinod came by to meet me. He wanted to check if we can take the flight next day morning instead of the noon trip which was scheduled for the day. When I asked curious why such a sudden change of plans, he mentioned that the wind is playing truant and to catch the wind we need to trek for 10 minutes from the spot where cars can take us. Nearest to flight site.

Nervous me, didn’t want to take the risk of pushing it to the next day. God forbid if wind decides to abandon me the next day, then my fancy plan would go for a toss. So I pushed Vinod to go ahead with the afternoon’s plans. That was my doom. The 10 minute trek was as elusive as a mirage in the desert. The car stopped at the side of semi barren farmland which stretched for miles, till the rocky crop of the Western ghats. The dry winter turned every blade of grass a golden hue.Vinod sweetly smiled and said the flying spot was right at the top of that rocky slope of the Ghats. He pointed at some Mango tree which my naked eyes couldn’t see. That he said was the destination and our flying spot.

My dear reader, I cannot tell you what my poor untrained legs had to bear for the next 50 minutes. There was no road, no trail, and we had to meander through barren and rocky farmland. We walked for more than a mile and half. Panting and gasping under the blazing sun, somehow I managed to reach the foothills. My dreams of flying in the sky without an iota of effort evaporated in the hot afternoon. But then started the treacherous climb. Again barely a trail. Steep rocky slope. I was crawling like a clumsy tortoises in search of the sea. Toehold slipping and me desperately clawing at the dry grasses. Thank God my man was there to lend a hand. He was 10 times fitter than I was. Finally I managed to reach the flying spot. I was super proud that I didn’t collapse on the way making a fool out of myself.

The rest was the least of the ordeal. Entrapped to the gear and latched to my instructor we waited for the right gust. Once the wind swept us up, the only thing required was to run towards the cliff and leap. That was a surreal moment when my feet left the solid ground and the invisible strength of wind took me up in the sky. When I looked down everything looked like miniature countryside. Dotted mini cowherds grazing, huts and toy cars racing on the ribbon like roads. Different shades of green laid like carpet below, covering the planet which we call our home. The sky, daffodil blue, pulled me towards it and such calmness enveloped me that I fail to describe in words today. The sound of the wind and the stillness of space took me to a meditative enamour. I stayed cantered and still within as I glided across the hillside. A few stunts later, my instructor guided us down. 

My relieved husband vowed never to try this for himself. Gladly took handover of his wife and climbed down the hill, happy that his ordeal was over. I think he was mighty pleased that his only wife didn’t fly away to some fairyland leaving him behind. 

One more adventure in my pocket, I spent the evening watching the sun go down the lake and the full moon rising in the horizon. My dearest reader given a chance try your hand at something new, something a tad difficult and different. Life is to be lived. Fill your pockets with memories and your heart with dreams. 

Till I see you again with another story, stay well.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life