SEASONS OF CHANGE Part 9

How much of the past do we actually remember? How many people have been forgotten and faded?
Do we remember the happier memories? Some to be cherished and some maybe eclipsed by an event which hurt us?  Or maybe there comes a time in life when you are to busy to be dwelling in memories.

So thats how it was. I was working to fend for my family, or whatever was left of it. A mother who wouldn't remember us and a young sister who never spoke of dreams or needs, since we were so busy in keeping alive. Conversations had turned into budget maintenance, the cost of medicines, the rota of being at home, the planning of daily routine. I no longer knew what went on with Payal or Arjun or anyone for that matter. None complained..sometimes you are too busy to address emotions...or maybe you're too scared to face them!

My work involved travel, loads of it at times. It wasn't taking me any closer to my dream of being a writer some day nor did it make me a better journalist. I ran behind money, grabbed every opportunity that came my way. Payal handled evening tuitions for the neighbours kids, Arjun  would watch Maa when she was away. I would go to work early in the morning and wouldn't come home till late. I didn't get any more interviews to do, but there was lots of running around, scripts to be written, meetings to be done or even arranging snacks and lunch for superiors and getting it to them on time. Literally anything that may or may not contribute monetarily, but sometimes maybe stop me from thinking.

I remember when in college, Baba used to tell us that the body has its own stop clock, it can slow you down when you need to rest. In the frenzy of life we lived in, rest came just in the form of the few hours of sleep I grabbed everyday. Something was supposed to slow me down too...

I was on an assignment in Madurai for a week covering a conference and had just checked into the guest house. Those were the days without internet or mobile phones . A fear of losses got me into the habit of calling my sister whenever I went out of town for long. So it had been raining all afternoon but I decided to walk out anyway to the nearest STD booth.

It was almost dusk when I was walking home. I guess it was considered unnatural for a woman to be walking on her own in smaller towns as I did stir a few heads. Rain had started to fall again and I held on to my umbrella. I had been having a minor headache all day which I had promptly ignored. I was probably a bit dizzy..my steps swaying and getting slower. It was still a good ten minute walk to the guest house. I noticed an empty bench in a deserted bus stop few feet away and thought I should sit down a while. I walked towards it...I don't remember reaching it. I probably heard someone calling my name....

Musings

Because I never have been happier
Because life's finally making sense
Because things were never simpler

They say its effortless to live a perfect life. And with all fear of jinxes, we would't wanna say its perfect. I say its more about making the right choices, trusting your instincts and that pinch of faith one needs...that the everyday efforts to make things work seem invisible. Of course, its the people around you who matter most.

You push out negative energies and build in on what you believe is best. You bury the past for good and hold hands with the present to build a better future. You give your heart, mind, soul and everything you have to your belief and duty. You fuel your work with passion..not because you want it done, but because you believe in it, you're immersed in it, you are in love with it.

When efforts are to work towards a goal and not actions of envy. When you've learnt to respect and learn from your worst competitors. When you open your mind up, to learn, to bow and accept your mistakes and repair them.

When you're in love with life, with your work, with people around you, with someone special ..its human to act crazy! Normal is boring...aint it. (Note :For all my fellow scientists..we are licensed to be crazy).

Excerpts from a diary entry not so long ago

What makes it so hard to face rejection - because its a failure? because you wanted it so much? or simply because you live in denial?

How difficult is to face a ghost from the past? And maybe done over a million times in life, you still feel terrible, moments before the encounter. It shocking at times at the amount of courage you posess which lets you keep your balance- something to be really proud of if you can. I guess because you have the strength- life lets you face the dark. Embarassments, pain..one has it all. And even though you've begged a million times for it to stop..in the back of your mind you know it wouldn't - thats life, aint it?

Regardless whenever rejection is sowed in, the plant of success grows much later. And till it surfaces and you have it - its hard to face the grave of the lost.

In a lifetime, we are entitled to many such days and sometimes we do think what we did to deserve this. Acceptance yes..but a hope resides that one day things will change and that one day we face the ghosts of the past with dignity- maybe show them a finger! It has happened, isn't it? and we hope it happens again. Into that day, we know, what keeps us going is hope and a little faith in the one watching us from up above!

Rain!

I hear the bells toll far away,

lulled only by the sound of the rain.

As the breeze gives the branches a sway,

I sit drenched counting the raindrops.

Its not everyday that it rains this hard,

it feels this summer is different somehow.

Its unique and beautiful, so says the bard,
the monsoon washes your sorrow.

A Moment...

In the distance between life and death

in a moment called my life.......

I see this dusk and I see no more

Where the slanting rays of the sun sketch your portrait out for me.

I feel this wind and I feel no more

where the soothing bursts of breeze

brings your fragrance close to me
I hear your words and I hear no more

when you say love me.

I feel your warmth and I feel no more

of the time when you held me.

In this distance between life and death

in a moment called my life

I know no one just you my heart

I know no breath, no touch, no sound

I know no love than yours my soul.
And I live this moment forever.....

Immersion

And its a breezy night again..when the winds spoke to me..
told me stories of the enchanted..sang a lullaby to me..
The still waters have ripples on them today..
on them the moon light dances its way..
the leaves of fall rustle to break the silence..
and the ripples break on the shore..sharing their guilt in the offense..

I dip my feet in water...feeling the autumn grip me..
the ripples turn to waves..and judge the intruder in me..
I walk into the depths as the water welcomes me..
the breeze blows the hair off my face...reminds me this is maybe..not to be..
I defy directions..I defy words..I defy my breath..as the water touches my face...

In the distance...a lone bagpiper plays
a music just so alien..defying the rules of the night..
I open my eyes one last time...and watch the as the moon shines on me..
the words of the deep sound closer..as the wind plays the ripples..
And as I sleep the water embraces me...into the deep as I return to eternity...

Seasons of Change PART 8

Keith Hubbard, was born of English parents in suburban Miami, in the United States. He grew up as the eldest of 3 children who were educated in Florida and then Boston before moving on to attend medical school to become doctors like their parents were. To Keith, setting up his private practice in Manhattan was all he dreamt of and achieved till one Saturday night when he met his old schoolmate Stephen Roswell in a NYC pub. Stephen worked with a group called the ICare foundation which was traveling to India to extend their helping hands. Suddenly inspired Keith decided to take the trip and as he would put it ‘discovered himself’ in India. When he flew back to New York, he had donated a huge part of his savings to the orphanages he visited in India. The same year he established the ‘Edgar Hubbard Trust’ in the memory of his late father which tied up with ICare to extend financial and medical help to these institutions.

Keith managed to attract a huge number of philanthropists and other people who pooled in money to keep the trust running, which initially included his patient’s parents. Keith Hubbard MD, PhD was a pediatrician. In a few years time The Edgar Hubbard trust along with Icare extended its branches from India to other impoverished regions in the Asian Subcontinent giving life to orphaned and underprivileged children. Keith himself flew down once every year to follow up the working of the institutes. It is probably the company of children and the joy he shared by helping them, is what kept him forever young and energetic in his priming thirties, and this is what which helped him recover from losing his fiancé Marian to cancer some years ago.

Given all the qualities of the man, still, neither could I get over the ‘Mad Man’ tag I gave him from our first meeting, nor could I improve upon it in any of our subsequent meetings. Some people are remarkably molded in the first impression you have of them!

Seasons of Change PART 7

Such were the times when I met Keith Hubbard. Keith was a voluntary worker with a US based charitable group which supported various orphanages around the country. The foundation had requested our channel for coverage for a program they were sponsoring. Strangely, if I call it the ways of fate, the office suddenly wanted me to cover the story. From being a plain news reader I was now playing journalist, and that made me even more awkward and nervous. We had a staff shortage, and I was referred for the job since I had some experience close to it.

When the office manager called me to offer this job I had plainly said yes without many enquiries, just because it would mean a pay hike. But then as I waited in the lobby of the group’s office I felt my feet go numb. It was a warm afternoon in mid January and I could see Madras live the day through the glass window in the room. On the other side of the road sat a strange looking man with a parrot and some cards. Trying to read the future! I wondered with the progress in age how many people still believed the roadside astrologer. But somehow the man wasn’t without customers.

I was losing my nervousness to thoughts when a young girl entered the lobby and walked towards me. “Ms.Aruna, we are so sorry to have kept you waiting. Dr.Hubbard had hurried off for some urgent work and has just arrived. Please come along with me.” I mumbled something incomprehensible that fortunately was unheard, and I silently followed her.

I was seated in a fairly comfortable room which had few cosy chairs and a computer flashed its screensaver from across the table in a far corner. The walls were adored with crayon sketched artwork by children of the orphanages the group worked for, and an old air conditioner attempted to cool the room that afternoon. Regardless of the temperature, I could feel my palms sweating.

“Dr.Hubbard would be here any moment”, said the girl and left the room closing the door behind her. I tried to divert my mind by observing the artwork hung around, and when it didn’t seem to work I closed my eyes and tried hard to concentrate. A good job at this might be a good career move. After all I wanted to make a good mark in media and moreover I needed the money. Maa’s medicines had to be looked after and I wished to reduce the load on Payal where she shuttled between a part time job,studies and taking care of the house. I didn’t realize how long I stayed this way, but when I opened my eyes a brown haired and grey eyed white man was looking at me quite intently sitting on a chair placed in front of me. I stood up startled unsure of what to say. The man stood up and flashed a big smile, “Keith Hubbard… I think I scared you!”

For some moments I was frozen and stood still, when suddenly the man started laughing. For an instant I thought he was insane, and the puzzled expression on my face made him laugh harder. After sometime he controlled himself and beckoned me to my chair, “I am sorry young lady, let’s get the story done!” He pulled out some loose sheets from a file and handed them over to me.

“Here are the details of the program we wanted you to cover. I have made sure I included all details. I hope this helps.”

I don’t remember how the interview went or the program details now. The camera team had arrived soon after and we managed to record the interview wholly minus any other maniacal laughter outbursts from Dr.Hubbard. But when I got up to leave the room Keith had an important question for me, “Ms. Aruna when was the last time you ever laughed?”

For some reason, I found the question weird and simply said, “Our office would let you know when we air the interview” and left in a hurry. When I left his office I had puzzled thoughts troubling my mind. It sure did have a lot of effect on me as I suddenly walked up to the fortune teller on the road side to make an attempt to know my future. The parrot picked up a colored card from the set the fortune teller spread ahead of him. It was a picture card depicting a hindu god. “You have troubles in life and today is not the end of it. But you have the strength to move on. A drastic change is awaited in your life, you will meet someone very important today.”

As I walked into my team’s van to get back to office, I was thinking, “Someone important…Keith Hubbard??.....bah…the madman affected my brains! Why did I even walk to the fortune teller…and why the hell am I pondering over his predictions!”

The Walk I Remember

Pain talks to me through the night,
and keeps me awake when my body cries for rest.
Time sets me riddles while emotions test their might,
to ask my dead heart if it still beats in my chest.

Its all so strange when they say u r strong,
or mistake your strength for apathy.
I am still finding the place where I belong,
when destiny has no space for sympathy.

I walk ahead coz I know not how to stop,
I walk the road I know not where it leads.
In the journey of finding love and life,
I walk on as my body bleeds.

No memories help me heal anymore,
No happiness can make me dream like before.
Its this moment which shall linger in my mind,
I remember this walk, not the one before.
Its etched in my destiny now I know,
that immunity to pain comes when ur hurt the most.

And all the people who come and go,
are plain memories now washed ashore.
They are shells I pick up and lay to rest,
they are dead, like my heart, they said!

Seasons of Change Part 6

There comes a time when a single incident changes everything in life. Anand’s departure from our lives had shrouded my family with gloom, something which never changed ever in my living memory. The silence which had lulled over the dead remains of my dear brother had now carried on in our lives…Maa never spoke to us again. We heard her voice sometimes, in those moments in her sleep when she kept talking to the abstract son who was now no more. Her voice never spoke to us, it was lost in transition between the ladders of life and death…a place where it had lost itself searching for her first born child. Many a times I dreamt of Maa scathing an alien land calling out for her son…a nightmare which reflected my helplessness in pulling my mother out of the sea of sorrow that she had immersed herself in. When doctors, quacks, saints , advice, prayers and all that we ever tried didn’t work, we began accepting the fact that Maa’s mourning may never be over. She dwelled in an abstract world, completely ignorant of the passing time with memories of her lost son.

Baba continued working for sometime, and slowly his days were spent outside the home than with any of us. In grief of his dead son and ailing wife seemed to be taking a toll on him. Life went on for me and Payal, as we struggled to keep the house running. Her part time job at a school and my meager salary of a news reader supported our lives when Baba’s income stopped aiding us. Silence now inhabited the house which was once teaming with life and happiness. We never knew what happened to Baba when suddenly he came home and announced he quit his job. A week later someone from his college came with a cheque saying it was our fathers savings when he quit work. We tried talking to the man who was once our dear father but never received any proper answer. He would leave the house at dawn and would return late at night, sometimes gone for days together. No one knew where he went or where he returned from. In a single turn of time we had almost lost both our parents along with our brother.

In our times of grief Arjun became our biggest support. They say in life when you have lost everything there will always be a true friend to stand by you, he was that strength in my life. He lent his personal as well as financial support without asking. Many a times he stayed up nights with the police or searching the streets of Madras when Baba went missing for days. Orphaned at childhood, he seemed to understand the pain we went through now. He filled the gap which Baba’s anonymity and Anands absence made in our lives.

I never asked Payal where she was the night Anand left us. I never questioned Arjun how he found her. Somehow with the responsibilities doubling on with time, the question lost its significance. It was a relief to see everyone home somehow alive after a day back from work.

In days that progressed, pain kept dragging on and nothing in life seemed to change. Relatives and friends pleaded with Baba to return to normalcy for the sake of two young unwed daughters at home. Nevertheless, me and Payal had realized long back that it wouldn’t work. In our prayers, a complaint was silently registered wherein our parents had walked away from us, and lulled away with the memory of duties.

Then one rainy evening that year, Baba went out of the house with his umbrella, never to return. We searched for days and weeks, and then our father was found only in the police records of missing people. I still wonder where he went, a frail hope beating somewhere within that a day would come when he would return to us as our old Baba who doted on his children. However in depths of my heart, an empty feeling told me that life was to move on beyond, much beyond this pain. I had my ailing mother, little sister and a search for my father to aid. My weakness would mean the end for my family.