The Tug

Sitting by the window sipping my usual cup of coffee this morning, with a few minutes to before I get on to a call at work, I feel a tug…

A something that tugs at my being – a mad fleet into the past, a scream at the pesent and a something else for the future…I just feel a weird jolt of realization for just those few seconds.

Isn’t a human being such a fool? So wrapped up in this mere act of existence…so tied up in bonds and expectations…

It’s a joke and a pity.

Life as it unfolds isn’t a great design by the Creator – is what I feel so often times.

Or maybe that’s what is different? and that the very essence?

Who knows.

The tug is difficult to ignore.


An idiot’s imagination

I recently had some bloke write some rubbish to me, as if he did not find anyone else on the face of this earth to write that non-sense to!

I’m content and fine with what I have in my life today – so why do these people think there are people waiting for them to find some happiness? Because they are idiots is my conclusion.

So, long story short, it is now a matter that rests with the law enforcement agency, and everything now gets monitored. What a waste of time and effort – all for an idiot’s imagination…

Like they say don’t do anyone a favour unless they ask you for it and need it. Your over-helpful nature could cause inconvenience to others…


Borrowed Time

On my way back from work today, I had nothing but the radio to keep me company.

I’m addicted to this one FM station. It’s a different story that these days I also do get very irate when I hear all those great people with stellar achievements, from all kinds of universities sit there analysing/re-analysing the same topic over and over again – my anger stems from the fact that all these big heads put together couldn’t stop the country and indirectly the world from going to dogs. The economic mess we are all in – where were these people? Drinking coffee or hiking in the mountains? How could all of us be blind sighted this way? Or is there a hint of a nexus here?

Anyway that’s an entirely different discussion. I’m not even nearly as qualified enough to debate on the issue.

But in my opinion, the country/world doesn’t need more MBAs or engineers. It needs better humans. We can manage with what we have as long as we care for this human race and have the right intentions to make it work. That’s what I struggle with day in and day out.

Today I found out that one of my friends wife has been diagnosed with cancer in the intestine and has been operated upon. And what does that mean? Borrowed time. That’s what it means.

Another friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer. She has been in and out of Stanford hospital in the last 3 months. What does that mean? Borrowed time again.

Time these people spend away from their children, people they love – how will they justify those last few years/days? What would be a worthy cause to not be with people they care for and instead be at work or at something else they need to do versus they would have done?

And what happens to their goals, objectives, career moves and everything else they would have done to make themselves fall into the category of being “Successful” – a definition they arrived upon or created by the society.

And with all of this hanging on each of us like a Damocles’s sword, we pretend as if we are so in control of tomorrow. Maybe ignorance is bliss in this scenario. Live for today and not for tomorrow is after all a good practice.

It is very easy to say and so very difficult to practice – isn’t it? I little discomfort is so unbearable in our lives. Are we only talking lofty ideals here? Maybe and maybe not.

The little games, the egos, the hide-seek we all play every single day of lives is what makes this game so fake. It provides spice to live? Maybe another way of looking at it.

Maybe a very cynical view, a pragmatic view or even a pessimistic view – like it or not, I think each of us are living on borrowed time. We all have a finite number of breaths to breathe. Yes, could be hundreds or thousands – but it is very finite.

And we need to make these moments of our lives precious, worthwhile and memorable! Don’t let them float away…we will never be able to re-live them – again, ever!

Yes, there is also the very enthusiastic, positive side of me that tells that there is so much to do and so little time! True. But, in that little time we need to prioritize what we do and don’t do.

It’s a weird thing I always think – on the day I lie on my death bed, who or what will I think of? Ask yourself this question. You will be surprised that your sub-conscious will have some answers ready for you. These impressions are not what you may have formed in the last few months/years. These are people or situations that have left those impressions on you. Deep inside.

It’s all about being grateful for all that we have, all about being humane – telling people who care for you that you are always there for them, not running away from situations in a cowardly fashion, instead standing up for them and for you!

In the end it’s all about smiling a lot!!! :-)


Song for today!

A beautiful song:

 


Soul Mates?

A little dancing and some wine. People seemed like strangers around them. Eyes that met and held across the table. Stories untold.
Time spent together and away. A bond that seemed weak and strong at the same time.

The social norms – the right and the wrong. Was it being afraid of the unknown or righteousness? which of the one is a stronger trait to prevail?

Other people in their lives that held on like leaches and sucked at their blood. The mind said one thing and the heart sailed else where.

They told their reasons. Logical and senseless at the same time. People who mattered heard on and those that didn’t laughed and moved on.

Life continued in their own worlds. They didn’t know if it was real or unreal. Is happiness pre-defined or self-defined they argued…

The pain and the pleasure were akin to the feeling of cold one feels right when the fire first touches the flesh. The burn lingers long after.

And they thought they were soul mates.

Is there even such a thing? Why does gender always matter?

Their paths run in the same direction – will they cross paths and if they do, acknowledge each other while they leap towards their finish lines? Do we have a choice other than wait and watch?

One thing is for certain – humor sure exists beyond the human race too …


The Neighbor

As I looked out of the window with my morning cup of coffee, a van that seemed to belong to the movers came and stopped in the neighbor’s driveway. A bunch of boys quickly got down and one of them who seemed to be their supervisor began to shout orders at them to move it!

Furniture that seemed to be very expensive was carefully carried inside piece after piece. And finally after about six to seven hours, the hustle died down and the voices slowly started to drift away.

I was bursting with curiousity to see who had moved into the house next to mine. I could hardly wait till the next crack of dawn and finally when I couldn’t wai any longer, I decided to carry a quick bite of dinner for my new neighbors, late that very evening. As I was walking up their driveway, I felt a familiar sense of excitement – it always excited me no end when I had to meet new people. I perceived this an opportunity to know people, their attitudes, the million different personalities and the hundred other ways each person’s mind ticked away! The human canvas always intrigued me.

I reached the doorstep, and rang the door bell. After what seemed to be a brief 30 seconds, I heard a flurry of footsteps inside, right behind the door. I patiently kept waiting for the door to open. Me, ready with a bright smile and a welcome-to-the neighbourhood speech ready on my lips. But nothing happened. I kept patiently waiting shifting my weight from foot to foot. After a good 15 minute wait at the door and repeated ringing of the doorbell, when nothing seemed to happen, I decided to give up and turn around. I just left the food at the doorstep and left with a puzzled expression on my face.

The next morning, during my coffee routine of looking out of the window I saw the woman! So, she is my neighbor I thought to myself. She was indeed a very beautiful woman, with hair that glittered like gold in the sun – tall and poised.
I quickly approached my end of the fence to pipe in a hello, and to accept her thank you for the food last evening. I barely reached the fence, and she quickly turned on her toes and dissappered into the house. But before she went in, she signalled and waved at me from the doorway, and threw me a smile- that meant nothing to me!. I had caught a glimse of her eyes – they were filled with the softest look, filled with a million expressions in that brief moment!

I felt blood rush to my face – I was angry. She certainly did not have the courtesy and manners to match her ethereal beauty, I thought. Like all humans I think I wanted to quickly satisy myself that she lacked something too. She had a fault, and I had found it! I quickly came back in.

In the week that followed, on one of the days I was busy shopping for groceries at the local store. I thought I saw a familiar figure paying at the cashier’s – I quickened my pace and as I stepped past the people, carts, kids, I saw that she was already at the door. She again smiled a fleeting smile in my direction and dissappeared. So, she did recognize me! Now what hurt most was that inspite of knowing it was me, she had ignored me! Amazing. I had never met someone so arrogant. And what was she proud of afterall ? Didn’t she know that looks and wealth were never permanent? Here I was trying to extend my hand of friendship to her, who was new to the neighborhood and she kept thwarting me ? It hurt.

The next Sunday, one of the neighbors had a pool party that was the highlight of the summer in the neighbourhood. As I was busy munching on the goodies and explaining the flaws in a latest movie to a friend, I saw her walk in. Elegant and beautiful. All heads turned and there was a brief moment of silence. Before I knew, my exuberent hostess ran to receive her, and gave her a big welcome hug. I never got one from this very host, inspite of being the best neighbor ever – I walked her dogs, I watched her kids on a Saturday night, I cooked for her and even took care of her lawn at times. So, why not me? What had this angel done to walk into my territory, walk over me and take over my friends?

I didn’t want to stay any longer – I told my hostess that I had to go to the airport to receive a friend and left the party.

For the next month or so, I saw all my friends in the neighborhood go in and out of the pompous diva’s house ( I had named my new neighbor that). I felt left out. What had I done to deserve this? Anyway, who cared ?

Time flew by, and a season changed. Fall was here. I had stopped looking over my neigbor’s yard with the coffee long ago. The curtains remained drawn.

After a long dull spell, I had gotten a call this morning!! It was from my sister and that she would be visitng me! At last there would be some activity in my now lonely life – even if for a few days. I had already made my plans of where to take her and what I would do with her! I was so excited – we would giggle and laugh just like we did growing up!.

I was late already and as I parked my car in the airport parking lot, I heard the annoucement that my sister’s plane had landed. Gosh! I’am always late – I never learn. Thinking about what I could do to better myself, I rushed into an elevator. The doors almost closed on me! I finally got in. The person inside had held it open for me as I had run towards it.

I turned to thank the kind person, but the words froze on my lips. I couldn’t hear my voice. I hated this situation – it was the pompous diva! She stood there with the happiest smile on her face, so elegant and untouchable. I hated the sight of her. There was nobody in the elevator other than the two of us.
The moment stood still – I thought to myself that I should not be the one to forget my etiquette and all the virtues that my good schooling and my parents had taught me. So, I said “Thank you”. She smiled and nodded her head ! what would she lose if she just said something as simple as “you are very welcome” or even “that’s alright”?

Who did she think she was and why did she treat me as if I were the lowest of the low? This got to me – I had to make her speak to me- so, unabashedly I continued the monologue – I said “we haven’t met. I’am your neighbor by the way, and have been trying to just say hello to you. I had even left you some food on the evening of your arrival. Did you find it ? I was surprised you hadn’t even mentioned it”. I couldn’t stop spitting out the venom.

Then she smiled a slow smile and raised her hands – and was using the sign language to say something. Oh my God ! She couldn’t speak – She was dumb ! And all this time I was busy hating her. When she had signalled the first day to me, she was actually thanking me ! But, I was so blinded with my contempt for her that I could not see beyond.

We had reached the terminal I had to get off on – without saying a further word, I just squeezed her hand and said – “I’am sorry” and got off.

I saw the puzzled expression on her face as I turned around, and the doors of the elevators closed – I’am sure she was wondering – sorry for what ? I knew better – sorry for every negative thought I had about her, sorry for speaking ill about her to the others and sorry for being inhuman. I was sorry for myself…ashamed at my own thoughts….

I couldn’t wait to get back home and make up to her …


The Train

The Train


The engine blew it’s whistle and chugged out of the little train station situated on the outskirts of our quiet little town.

I settled myself at the window and looked longingly at the green fields that belonged to people I knew and grew up with, all my life. I tried to capture one last loving glance of all my favorite sights – I would be gone to the city for a long long time on a job posting.

With a heavy sigh, I turned my gaze around the train compartment. There was an old couple opposite me – busy in getting their luggage arranged. Above them was a single guy already immersed in a book – he didn’t seem to care about all that happened around him. On the farther side sat a middle aged lady, and along with her sat a young girl in her mid twenties. I saw that she was average in her looks, wore glasses and had a beautiful smile. Behind those glasses I saw big brown eyes- curious, ready to smile and happy!

Everyone seemed to have found their favorite spots and had settled in. Suddenly I heard a commotion, some arguing and then a thump of baggage being unloaded right next to me. I looked up and saw a fat man in his mid forties, carrying at least 3 bags and a big large suitcase – he had also managed to hold a cup of coffee with one hand. He was precariously balancing everything and he finally sat down carefully. Within 5 minutes of sitting, out came a packet of chips – he seemed such a friendly person with a very cheerful disposition. He turned to me and said “Has the ticket collector been here already ?” I nodded my head. He offered his pack of chips to everyone – I refused. He again said ” what’s the fun in travelling if you don’t eat ?”. I laughed – I hated to eat even a single bite even on the longest of my jouneys!

We were at least 3 hours into our journey. The young man who had buried himself in the book was alive to the world again – he had gotten down to stretch. He kept standing at the door and I noticed that he kept smoking and looking out for a long time. A thinker, a writer, an artist ? who could he be, I thought. He was unshaven, dark, tall, rugged and handsome in a very uncommon way. I shrugged – what do I care who all these people are.

An hour passed, and when I decided to get myself a coffee, I saw that the young man and the girl with the lady seemed to have gotten to know each other, and were busy chatting up. Young blood I thought – never waste a moment. Talk, talk all the time!
The guy seemed to have a good sense of humor – for everything he said, the girl seemed to be bursting into laughter. He then brought out a harmonica and played it for a while. He then set to teaching her how to play the harmonica.

Night fell, and everyone quietly ate their dinner. The fat man next to me had been a munching machine, and must have eaten at least a few pounds of nuts, crackers, candy, chips and god knows what. He had additionally guzzled a few quarts of soda, coffee, and water. Would he finish up all the food on planet Earth if left lose I thought. I laughed at my own imagination ! I was funny – at least I made myself laugh !

I glanced at the door, and on the steps I saw them – still chatting away. The girl and the guy were busy discussing – probably the most important topics they thought they could never find time to catch up on. Did they have to resolve world issues right this night sitting in that cold on that doorstep ? Why was I so bitter ? Why did it upset me that they were having such a good time? The soft sounds of the harmonica continued into the night.

I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night – still could hear their quiet banter, interspersed with soft laughter. I finally sat up at about 5AM in the morning. It was my usual time to be up. I peeked outside the window and saw that the train had stopped at a big station. There was the aroma of coffee!

I saw that the guy had gotten down to get them both some coffee. Will make a good husband to some girl one day I thought! I got myself a cup and watched the sunrise throught the crack of the window. Watching a sunrise and a sunset has always been very special for me – I feel very raw and primal in my gut when I see the elements of nature resplendent in it’s true colors!

The friendship between the two seemed to have grown.They were very comfortable, and the girl seemed to have picked up playing the harmonica. I saw the girl’s mother tell her to catch some sleep and that it was enough. She turned a deaf ear and on went their chat.

A day into the journey, I was ready to throw at the sight of any food – my fat neighbor had done that to me !

That night I saw them talk again on the door step – everyone in the compartment was fast asleep. I had nominated myself to be the watchdog ! well, the truth was that I couldn’t sleep with all the coffee in the evening.

As I watched them, I saw the guy hold her hands for a brief minute – she seemed to be listening to him – very intently. Certainly they were discussing something very important to both of them ! I wish I could move closer to hear. I then looked at her mother and thought – why can’t she tell her daughter to go to bed now ?

I woke up the next morning, and found the guy ready with his bags to get down. The train was at a station. The guy and the girl were saying their good-byes alomst at the top of thier voices, and at the very end, there was a quiet quick exchange of glances and the guy got down.I immediately saw a couple, who seemed like his parents come to receive him.

Since the train had a long stop at that station, I got down and walked to the news stand.

The guy seemed to have forgotten his book – the one he hadn’t had the time to read since the first day. He had run back to the compartment to get it, and seeing his parents standing next to me, I smiled. His mother smiled back and began a casual conversation and told me that she was so happy to see him back home. Afterall, he was to become a father any day since his wife was expecting ! It stirred up something in me.

The guy had come back by then and they left.I silently began to walk back to the train.

I went back to the train and saw the girl at the window. She was busy talking to the fat man and the old couple now. The train moved on, and another day passed before we reached our destination. I was irritated with the girl – I now wonder why ?

The girl seemed to have moved on too – she did not waste another minute getting to know the entire compartment, and had ended up eating many packets of chips with the fat man ! And that night, I saw her sit at the door step – she had the harmonica ! She began to play the notes I heard them play before. He had left his music behind for her.

She seemed happy – so, why was I not ? why was I feeling as if something beautiful that could have happened did not happen? Why did it bother me that he had a wife who was to have a baby at home ? Maybe it didn’t bother the girl at all. Maybe they did not even think the way I was thinking for them. Maybe they knew that they were just going to be very good friends – and friends for the time the journey lasted? In the end they had had a good time. So, why did I feel all this ?

Oh well, I thought in the end, my being single at fifty seemed so easy and uncomplicated…the world and it’s relationships were too complex for me to handle.


The Lost Time

Amit quickly ran up the stairs and shut the door behind him. He stood there panting, trying to catch his breath and trying to focus on things around him in the room. After a few seconds, he ran to the window that overlooked the street and took a peek. He could only catch a glimpse of Mr.Roy’s back. The old man was slowly fading away from sight, walking at a very slow pace, with what seemed like a limp in his left leg.

Waves of mixed emotions engulfed Amit – he just stood there shaking. Anger, hatred, sorrow, helplessness, love and loneliness swept him up in their powerful grasp. He simply let himself be taken over.

He had bumped into Mr.Roy after a long long time. Hadn’t seen him or even had as much as a glimpse of him for over two decades now. He had been their neighbor for several years at the time Amit was growing up. A very helpful family – Mrs & Mr.Roy. As Amit crossed the street a little while ago, Mr.Roy had come straight into his face. The older man squinted for a minute against the sunlight and tried to place the face that he had seen long ago, which wore a very mature look now. After a minute, he said “Amit, is that you? Where have you been?” His voice choked with emotion.

Amit on his part simply nodded, turned on his heel and ran up the stairs to his house across the street, as if he had seen a ghost from the past.

As he now stood next to the window, Amit remembered that rainy night very clearly from many many years ago. The night that changed his life – forever. He must have been 9 years old at the time. It had been pouring down for almost 3 days. He had just eaten dinner and was lying down with his mother while she was humming some of his favorite songs for him. There was a soft glow in the room, and his mom’s voice floated strong and steady. Amit drifted away – into a state that was in between sleep and being awake. She looked so beautiful to him – his precious mother. He was almost afraid to touch her! For Amit, his mother represented everything that was strong, beautiful, soft, tender, and so full of love, all at the same time. Her very name ‘Arpita’ was music to his ears. He simply adored her.

Few minutes into sleep, and he was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of the telephone – his mother ran to pick it up. She was silently hearing to the person on the phone speak. Her face began to change colors. She simply stood there sobbing into the phone for a few minutes. She did not say much, put the receiver down, switched on the lights and sat at her reading desk, with her head bent low. He came and asked her what had happened. She simply said – “nothing, it was your papa on the phone”. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Amit stood there, helpless; wanting to protect her from all that happened in the last 10 minutes. Their world had changed upside down for some vague reason!

Mrs.Roy their neighbor had seen the lights on and had come to ask if everything was okay. At that point Arpita broke down and explained that Amit’s papa had called from another city and had said he was busy with his work and would not return for a few weeks. Everyone knew that he was using work to get away from home, from Arpita and their marriage. Arpita was not stunned, but hadn’t expected this either. He was getting bolder about making no bones about their non-existent relationship. Mrs.Roy stayed through the night and kept talking and consoling Arpita.

The next night, Amit lay in his bedroom. They had had a terrible day – his mother had refused to touch food or water. For her, all that she had avoided confronting when it came to her marriage, had turned to black and white – the writing was on the wall. She had to do something now.

He could see the window next to the dining room where his mother now stood gazing at the moonlight spread on the lawn outside. Mrs and Mr.Roy had come over and had eaten dinner with them, to help keep their spirits up. Mrs.Roy was tired and had gone home early to go to bed, since she had stayed up the previous night. Mr.Roy stayed back and now stood next to Arpita. He could see his mother sob. She was a mess since last night. The next instant he saw Mr.Roy hold his mother in his arms and wipe her tears away – gently. They stood there glued together for what seemed like an eternity.

Amit was stunned. He sat up and stared. The act seemed so innocent, yet there was something about it that he hated. It was so spontaneous – one that any human would do for the other in times of need, yet there was a gentleness to it that said a million things. He did not understand what it was, but he hated it! The very sight and occurrence of it!

He got up and was standing at the doorway to his room.Mr.Roy suddenly saw him through the corner of his eye. He quickly let go of Arpita. There was an awkwardness that was palpable. What would happen next?. Instead, Mr.Roy cleared his throat ; simply said – “Good night Arpita – good night Amit. Take care of yourselves”, and left.

Amit went to his room and lay down. His mother of all the people in the world? What had happened to life as he knew it a day ago? Everything seemed to go wrong. His mother slowly came to his room – and sat at the edge of his bed. She touched his head and was about to run her fingers through his hair – as if nothing had happened?. He had always loved it when she did that. But now, Amit just pushed her away and turned to the other side. She tried to turn him to her side, but his push again was packed with all that he currently felt. “Go away – leave” he said between clenched teeth. She left.

When Amit thought back, Mr.Roy had always been a part of every scene in their family – his school, his cricket matches, his swimming, in his absent father’s place. Always with them, doing something together. He had always enjoyed his company, up until now.

For the next few days Amit hardly saw her face much less said anything to her at all. Arpita had lost a few pounds and looked like a reflection of herself. Unrecognizable.

Amit stayed away. He felt betrayed. He felt she had stooped low. Fallen in his eyes. She was an epitome of dignity for him, and she turned out to be very common. Just like anyone you would meet any common place. His mother, whom he thought was an embodiment of strength, purity and selflessness had turned out to be so predictable, so weak and so selfish.

On one particular night that winter, Amit lay burning with a high fever. His body ached and he felt the chills rake his body. Arpita sat down next to him and tried to sponge him with some water. Amit felt nauseated. He simply pushed her away. Earlier, all he wanted was his mother when he was sick. He just wanted to cuddle up to her and take care of him. Something had broken inside him now. He blamed her for pushing his father away from their nest – she was in some way responsible for him not to have a father figure. He attributed it to her behavior – what he did not know was what had come first. Her behavior or his father’s distancing from the family…The fever kept rising…he didn’t care.

Arpita was deeply hurt by his resentment, and all that she could do was sob and pray things would change.

She had lost a husband and a son the same night. What woman would be doomed to such fate she thought…

Years rolled by. Amit completed his under graduate degree from a reputed Institute, and got a job offer overseas. Their relation had not improved in warmth, but they were now talking on day to day things. After all, they lived under the same roof – life had to go on. Arpita tried very hard, but was met with equal and stronger resentment every time. She kept trying, praying and waiting…

It was awkward breaking the news to his mother. But as he sat silently eating his dinner, he pushed the offer letter in front of her. She read it and said “So, are you going?”. He said “Yes, by the end of this month”. This moment under normal circumstances would have been so different. They would be happy and at the same time so upset to be torn away from each other. But now…

The day he was leaving, Arpita was unwell and had a bad migraine. He stood by her bed and in one mad moment wanted to hold her, tell her he would miss her, ask her why she had ruined it all for him, tell her he still loved her. But, he did none of that. He told her he was leaving, and that she could reach him at a telephone number he had written down in the diary next to the phone.And he left.

Months turned to years, and he still felt raw inside when he thought about his mother. He hated her, he loved her, and she was still a part of him. But, he never understood how to deal with the pain he felt. The bile rose in his throat every single time the incident came in front of his eyes. He could never forgive her.

One summer day that year, he received a call from one of his relatives that his mother was in the hospital. Before he could even react, the same relative called a day later to say she was no more. Everything was over – quietly.

Amit went back to his country and his house to wrap up things, and this morning had bumped into Mr.Roy after all these years…

He stood staring out of the window at the moonlight on the lawn – standing all by himself in a dark room. Amit stood there for hours and tried to find a closure.. maybe what she had done or not done was after all human, why had he gone to these lengths to punish her? And punish her for a lifetime? Did he in the end punish himself? It was really not her problem that he idolized her – all she wanted from him was to be loved!

Silently as tears coursed down his cheeks, he thought I should have probably at least once told her that I still loved her, held her hand and asked her to forgive me for all the times I did not stand by her, in times when she needed my shoulder to cry upon….but, what use was it now?


Zugunruhe !

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The morning Sun seemed to greet all the sleepy heads a very good morning and shone bright and brilliant !!

Anita stood on her terrace this morning right next to the coconut tree and the jasmine creeper, sipping her coffee and digging up all her memories. Summers spent lying on the cool terrace, soaking up the sweet scents of the jasmine, and hiding here on various occasions – to escape from her brother and her cousins who got the wildest satisfaction playing tricks on her, and tormenting her no end through their summer vacations when they met up.

Two months to this day, she had been married to Neel, and they were about to set off to America. Neel had gotten a job with one of the consulting firms there, and was very excited about pursuing a career abroad! He could not wait to leave here, and start his new life. His excitement was very almost contagious. Anita for one was very excited that she was about to start a new life with her beloved husband, and at the same time was a little skeptical of starting it in an alien land – away from her parents, brother, cousins and the surrounding she had grown up in. She had packed and re-packed everything – except for one last box. She hoped to fill it with her memories – little trivia she had collected over the years. Little things that were a part of her life!

She opened the trunk that was carefully stashed away in the back of the attic, and went “AAcchoooo”! Ah, so much dust had collected on the top since she had last opened it – probably 8 years ago In there, lay little pencils, crayons, erasers, beads, feathers, comics and most precious of all the Rhine stones she had painfully collected as a child! And how proud she was of her collection! She put everything she wanted in the last unpacked suitcase and smiled when she thought of Neel’s reaction- he would certainly scream!! But well, she needed to carry at least a part of her past with her – the familiarity comforted her. She was she, and needed these to be herself. She would pacify Neel She came bounding down the stairs and sat by the sofa. On the floor lay that day’s newspaper, and something on the front page caught her attention – it was an article on “Migratory Birds” !! Complete details on how some birds flew very very long distances during particular seasons.

On the other side of the globe in California, Mr.Pai heaved a sigh as he put the folder away and set his glasses on the coffee table. At last, they were almost ready. He and his wife were away from their land of birth for almost 40 years! It was a long time to spend in an alien country when all that they had come for was to see the world for a year or two at the maximum. They did not realize how time had flown and how they gotten deeper and deeper into various commitments, and had almost forgotten their resolve to head back home! Two full time jobs, two beautiful, bubbly daughters to raise, a suburban home to keep and the commute kept their hands overly full. When they got a moment to breathe and thought of home, they always felt something tug – tug in the pits of their stomach. But, they had to wait for all these years for their little princesses to grow up, finish college and settle down.

Well, all that was done now, and they had the time to think of themselves and how they would spend the evening of their lives together. That is when without the slightest disagreement, Mrs & Mr.Pai had agreed that they had to go back – back to their motherland! Go back to where they came from – their very roots. The pull was too strong now – too much to ignore.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck ten o’clock, and Mr.Pai decided to call it a day. On the way out, he picked up the newspaper of the day. The headlines caught his attention – it was a detailed article on the life of “Migratory Birds”! He stood there in the center of his huge drawing room with a ceiling that seemed to soar towards the sky – he stood there all alone right in front of a family picture, a picture full of smiling, happy people- people from his past, who seemed to be beckoning to him now.

Somehow the life of a migratory bird, and the lives of humans seemed synonymous to him – the restlessness seemed comparable. It was interesting to him to think how humans were so skeptical of changing their own habitat, fearful of a new surrounding. These birds migrated every season, with no fear or inertia. Why are we humans so complacent? And why do we fear change in all forms? Maybe because we have complicated our own lives, and created our own imaginary fears. And we indulge ourselves in breaking these self-created barriers!

The term “Zugunruhe” came to him – something that meant migratory restlessness, as told by his German friend and co-worker Rainer!

A tear coursed down his now crinkled cheek – he had taken so long, so long to go back. His mother had made him promise he would be back within two years – but … time had just flown. Nothing was stopping him now- he was on his way back, but to an empty home. His mother was not there waiting for him- she had long since passed away. But, he had memories of his land – the scents, the people, the bonds and the familiar surroundings to hold on to, as they together walked hand in hand into the sunset of their lives….


You Have to Read This…

A beautiful, beautiful poem by Kipling – worth keeping it for life! Summarizes everything for me…Want you to enjoy reading it too, so sharing it….

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
… Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

- Rudyard Kipling


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