Himalayan Whispers.........

 

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."    John Muir

I was deep in love with the Himalayas. I had always dreamt of going deeper, wandering through its mysterious valleys and peaks, listening to the whispering weeds, resting on its cozy lap, filling my heart and soul with its crisply chilled fresh air. I was absolutely hooked. I was feeling it inside out. Setting my small feet on the King of the mountains, looking up at Kailash, looking around for the thirty three crore plus gods became a passion. I waited.. waited apprehensively for the call.

And then the mountain beckoned. The impossibly far away Kailash opened its colossal doors for me. The mighty Himalayas smiled at me. My heart was dancing to the call. I was dying to go near and feel its gigantic strength.

There had been hurdles. Getting permission from family. Feminine issues. Health... Some of the first ones to overcome. But somehow once I booked my tickets, everyone wanted me to go. Then came the flood and we had to cancel all our tickets. I was heartbroken. What could we mortals do when nature plays? We are just helpless spectators.

But the call had already come. Who could defy the call of the Ultimate? If there are problems, there will naturally be solutions too. And I went... I knew that mountains were not what they seem from a distance. So far I had seen it only as paintings. But now, I was going to touch it... I was going to feel it... smell it.. listen to it.. My heart was dancing in ecstasy. I was in seventh heaven.

While packing, my mom gave me an old muffler. It was my dad’s, which he had used almost 45-50 years back. The moment I touched it, I could feel a strong arm protecting me. Confidence and courage were flowing from that muffler to my heart. I knew then for sure that I was going to make it without any hassle.

So off we went, with a heavy luggage and a light heart, to Delhi and from there to Kathmandu where we met our group. It was mostly a ladies gang. 40 ladies and four couples. From there a helicopter ride to Nepal-Tibet border. Elephantine Himalayas on both sides and you are floating along with the clouds in between. Where ever you look, you could see only the green mountains and cascading waterfalls covered with a slight mist. Rivers with crystal clear water flows down. I wanted to take a video, but the ladies sitting with me were against it. They had closed their eyes tightly shut and were chanting prayers. I was amused. I told them, “I don’t think our helicopter will crash here. We aren’t that virtuous for such a boon. We are not that lucky enough to die in such a heavenly place... if it happens in the midst of this mountains, what else do we need? That’s the ultimate moksha...” There was a thrill in my voice. If looks could kill, I would have been dead at that instant. Yes, more than friends, I think I'd be picking up enemies.

Crossing the border, travelling in Tibet was a marvellous experience. The Tibetan plateaus had an aura of mysticism all around. As we went further and further, all we could see around us were mountains and clouds. Thick clouds in many shapes and sizes. There appeared in front of us an Om on the blue sky which was clearly visible to everyone. It was like someone had written it there with a white marker. Then we saw the shape of Hanuman with mrithasanjeevini on his hands. We could clearly see the shape of Ganesha writing in a book. There appeared a Shiva linga and a serpant. It could be hallucinations. It could be the mind’s way of tricking people. But in the same way for everyone in a group? I don’t know. There aren’t any explanations. When we sat on the banks of Brahmaputra (Tsangpo in Tibet), having our lunch there, we were wondering if this was the spot where Shiva used to play with his friends. Was I really touching the offspring of the great Brahma?

A circumambulation of the pious Manasarovar in the bus was unsatisfactory. It was just a two hour tour. What I longed for was a walk around the river... To see if Parvathy still came for her holy dip... To watch the gunas and apsaras coming for a bath...  But a dip in the holy water cleared all the thoughts and worries. It was freezing cold, but the feeling was ambrosial. It imparts a kick which no other drugs can give. It was here, in Manasarovar, that if you are lucky enough, you will get the first view of Mount Kailash. While we were having our dip, the whole area was covered in mist. While completing the circumambulation, suddenly the driver showed us a wonderful sight. Amongst the mountains in front of us, one particular mountain was shining beautifully in silver. Yes... our first view of Kailash... Eyes filled with tears of joy, heart filled with love, we could just watch it in awe with dim eyes and overflowing heart. In spite of the biting cold, my body was scorching hot. By now, goosebumps had risen all over my body. Somewhere in my previous birth, I might have done something good to behold such a wonderful sight. Night stay at Manasarovar was an experience. My friends woke up at 12 to see stars taking their dip. The Sherpas had told us that we could see the stars taking bath in the river. Most of us were awake to see the sight and they claimed to have seen almost 12 stars falling into the water and going back to the sky. Well, I missed the sight. Of all the nights, that night I surrendered myself to a deep peaceful sleep.

Kailash Parikrama was an experience. I wanted to walk through the mountains. I didn’t want to take a horse. Walking along the mountains, you will feel that you are all alone in this world. But Kailash towers protectively on your right, warding off all your worries and fears. What is there to be scared of when He himself is standing just next to you? After a long trek, when I hit the bed tiredly, I heard a loud cheer from outside. People were asking everyone to come out to see another miracle. There, in the snowclad Kailash, the snow had fallen in such a way that when you look from down, you could see the form of Sirdhi Saibaba sitting and having a chat with a man standing nearby holding a Trishul in his hands. Who else, but the lord of the mountains!!!! What a divine site...  Again, maybe the hallucinations of the mind... But, all at once for everyone? I don’t know.................

While coming back, we all were in a trance. We couldn’t believe that we were trekking to the middle of the world. We couldn’t believe that we really did it... It was really a once in a lifetime experience, in one of the most beautiful spots of both the real and mythological world, expunging away all the worries and tensions, sucking in all the freshness, and a new life. There is a saying, “When you fall in love with the mountains, they keep calling you again and again.” Absolutely. Once you have lived with them for any length of time, you belong to them. There is no escape................................

 

Eschewed Whispers..........

Two scores of my life, I had been making sacrifices in life. Everyone around me was living their life as they wished. Not me. I had to bow to the orders of people around me. My wishes were entombed. My likes, my wishes, my dreams... no one even cared about it. I was just a puppet. I was the one always to yield.  I had to give up on my life to make others happy. I had to abandon the ambitions that I had aspired. All I had got was a NO in capitals for all I had longed for. Learn music? NO... Learn violin? NO... Learn painting? NO NO NO... Why? Why was I denied of all my wishes? I still remember searching for a violin teacher, and after finding an old man of around 60 years ( 60 was very very very old for a 13 year old), when I asked him to come home and speak to my folks, the commotion they made! Did they think I would run away with this old guy? And the art teacher near my home... How I had yearned to get trained in oil painting from him!! But with his long beard, a long bag and a glowing cigarette stub in between his fingers, he was also not acceptable. Whatever I had wanted to do was put forward to the Head Quarters. And the HQ decided if I should do it or not. Even though I was excellent in Maths, with an immense passion for language, I had wanted to take up Journalism as my career.  But HQ decided commerce. Not maths, not literature, but commerce.... I didn’t even apply for commerce. I just reported to the HQ that I didn’t get a seat.

I was not a weak hearted person. There was a rebel inside me too. But I carefully shoved it down underneath. Words could flow only from my pen... It always failed to come out from my mouth. My body agreed, my mind obliged... but my heart exploded. And none saw it. I was living a lie quelling my dreams. I was like a robot with many hands holding the remote. Why did I let others dominate me? I am not a person who ever bother what the world will think of what I do. Still I danced to their tunes. Why? I think it’s a part of loving people. I had made others happy with my compromises. But I had started to feel somewhere between self pity and self hatred about myself.

Still I moved on. I can’t say that I hadn’t settled in life. I did. But again, on the terms and conditions of the people around me. I was getting fed up. I was feeling frustrated. When people tell you what to do even after 40 years, when you still have to report to the HQ on each and every happening of your life, life becomes a suffering. I had to get out from this maze. If I won’t live now, when will I ever live for myself? When will I ever fulfil my dreams? It’s true that your body won’t be able to catch up with your mind’s pace. But it will reach. Slowly but steadily. I am now free from those domineering clutches. Life begins at 40. And so, I am born again... to live my life as I want...

Driving Whispers........

 

 

I am back on board. Had been roaming around with my new found freedom and confidence. There was no looking back. But suddenly, I felt a tug. Something was wrenching me backwards. Should I go back? Or should I keep on moving forward? The fire in my belly was too much...

 

I have been trying to conquer all my fears in the last few years of my life. I had been      labelled by my family as someone who was afraid of no one. Yes, true. I have never been scared of any human being. And that had earned me the nickname, The Rock-Hearted. But deep in my mind, I had unrevealed fears. Fears which I had never let anyone see. Fears which I took great pains to camouflage under a thick wrap.

 

The first time I knew what real fear was when I was just 10 years old. I had been getting slowly imported to the alluring world of books. I had begun to live in my own fantasy world of  'Chandamama'. My palace was at times under the sea  or above the clouds. My handsome prince used to come either on a white horse or riding a chariot. I was enveloped by fairies and wizards. Even the littlest wish was executed. Life was beautiful. And so were the people around me. It was then that I got hold of an abridged version of  Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'. I was totally mesmerised by the Count, I strolled in the Carpathian mountains, I shifted my home to Transylvania. I was in a trance. Leafing through until the last page, everything was enchanting till night. Living in a house near a railway track, the blaring yell of a passing train made me jump from my sleep. When I opened my eyes, all I could see were some moving silhouettes outside the window. The curtains were dancing furiously as though somebody was venting all of his anger on it. I was sleeping near my grandma. I couldn't lift a finger to call her. My body became completely numb. My hands were frozen, and I was sweating profusely. I tried to open my mouth, but my lips were glued tightly. I was shivering like a leaf in a storm. I couldn't sleep. I was not able to close my eyes, nor was I able to look outside the window. That terrible night!!!.... But for the next night, I was ready. I filched my mother's hairpins, and  checked with my pencil box's magnet that it was made of  iron. I took two each and made crosses. I made crosses with a broom stick too, and placed it all under my pillow. Yes, I was all set to confront my dracula. Iron and cross.. Now nothing could harm me. I slept peacefully that night. But the commotion made by my staunch conservative Hindu grandma after seeing those many crosses under the pillow.......................

 

I had this fear of standing in a crowd. A crowd always made me panic. I used to be really uncomfortable. I was not sure what to talk to others. I felt that people were judging me... felt that they were looking at my round face, round nose, round body.. I thought that they were criticising my appearance. I was scared to talk to a crowd. I became self-conscious. Slowly I retreated to myself. I made my own cocoon and was comfortable inside the shield. I was happy with myself. I used to curl up in my swing cot with a book in my hand. I never bothered to come down and meet visitors at home. Even to relatives I became a stranger. Because of this fear, I was not ready to do things that I loved to do. What if people will gather and look at me with those criticising eyes? Little did I know that those so called people had so much other things to do than waste their time on criticising me. But I wasted my childhood with this fear in mind. I knew I should change. I knew I should come out. And I did.. after a very long time... I had to have a long fight with myself to get rid of this affliction.

 

Water was another thing which gave me a cold feet. As a child, I was lovingly offered swimming lessons from two of my sweet aunts.. one from my mom's side, and one from my dad's side. And both of them literally put me inside the pond. That was it.. Water and me became lifelong enemies. We couldnt bear to see each other face to face. I was scared even to stand under the shower. The water from the shower directly on my face suffocated me. Only rains could soothe me. Those little droplets cooled my inner fire. It was then I got a friend from Iran.. a swimming coach. We made a deal. I should teach her English and she would teach me how to swim. Thus, one fine morning, while having breakfast, I announced to my family my decision of joining a swimming class. I saw my husband choking his food. But diplomatically he kept quiet. He knew the consequences. But my kids couldnt control themselves. "Amma, you are forty!!!" My little one spurted out. If looks could kill someone, mine would have killed him then. "So what???" I asked him carelessly. "Life begins at forty.." "But you will have only ten more years................" I pretended not to see the nudge my husband gave him under the table. I could already feel my confidence starting to drain. "Are you going to wear the proper swimming costume?" was his next worry. "I'm thinking if I should buy a single piece or double piece" was my parting shot. I loved the expression on my husband's face. It took me three months to get fully inside the water. My friend could talk in English very well by that time. But still I hadn't started to float. But slowly, I got it. I could drift on my own. The feeling was heavenly. I was no more scared of water. And I could really swim atleast a few laps. That was more than enough for me.

 

The next thing that made me shiver was driving. Even though I had my driving license, I was scared to touch the steering. I could never get the ABC co-ordination into my brain. I used accelerator instead of clutch and clutch instead of brakes. And to top the cake, there was this gear changing too... I used to dream of driving on busy roads, but it remained just a dream. One day, my mom's friend's son, who was then six foot two inches offered me to teach how to drive without fear. I sat in the driver's seat, and gripped the steering. He was on the passenger seat, with his long legs stretched towards my side on the clutch and brake. And we took off... We drove in and around Thrissur, through all those busy roads, and overtook my driving master who was having his next batch of students. He proudly showed me to them.. "See, I taught her driving. How confidently she drives now... " If ever he found out that only the hands on the steering were mine, and the rest of the control was being done by my tall friend, he would have got an immediate cardiac arrest....

 

And thus, my driving continues. My drive to crush and trash my apprehensions. My drive to gain more confidence. I know I am braver than I believe, stronger than I seem, and smarter than I think......................................

 

 

Poetic Whispers...

The Ecstasy

The soft love..
Flowing like a river..
Sweetening the pains..
Blooming the desires inside...
Fills the heart with happiness.

The dusk
Vibrant with the clouds
Waits for the twilight..
When the moon comes out at night,
The mist breezes in..

The twilight steals the silence away.
Far from the sky, someone sang a song..

Why do the yellow blooms
Seek union with the dreamy sky...
The flowers are blossoming
In the tunes of love...
A little tear drop from the eye
Becomes a flower in the heart...

The Quest

When the sun sets,
When the trails are obscured,
Silence precedes the night..

Is it the grief of the summer?
Is it a music without melody?
The darkening dusk fades afar
Without uttering a word....

The clouds search for the ripples
The withering flowers yearn for the melting teardrops
The hornets chase the flame
The harmony looks out for the changing colours...
Without rhythm, Seeking peace......

     

Throbbing Whispers.............

A long time….. My blog was sooted and tarnished. It took a couple of years to clean it and make it a place worth coming back...
What was I doing these two years? Why did you leave me alone to myself, my muse? But then, I too didn’t want to uncap my pen… I used to stare at the blank spaces with a blank mind and blank eyes. I never saw anything. I never heard anything. I was hiding secretly inside my cocoon.
My heart is heavy today. No, not because of Valentine’s Day. It was this day twenty five years ago that I lost my dad. I still remember my aunt coming home early morning to break that awful news. I was having my breakfast then. The shock and the silence after the blast… The food choked on my throat. I couldn’t swallow… neither could I spit. I locked myself in my private box, letting no one in. The hurt is the same even after all these years. The wound is still wide open. There were many occasions when I wished he was there to hold my hands. But I never utter a sound. He had so much life left to live. Life is not fair at all.
My dad was like a rock, strong and bold. He was a tower of strength. I was his little girl, who had a mind of my own. He taught me how to stand without fear. He taught me to trust my heart before listening to anyone. He taught me to stride my life without fear. I was not at all the best daughter. I had my own share of negligence and neglects. But I was just 16. Still in my chrysalis, waiting to bloom. How could I live without those strong hands guiding me?
If I close my eyes, I can hear him telling me stories. I can hear him singing a song for me. I can hear him roaring for the mistakes I did. I can hear the soft rustle of my swing bed where we used to lie down looking out through the windows. I can hear him telling me to grab and arrange the pieces of my life I had shattered around.
If only dead people would come back.. If only I could go back in time and make things different.. But the past is like a handful of dust that filters through your fingers. Little by little, it disappears. If only, just for one day, I could be with my dad.. just one more day…… just one more time…….
Dad, I miss you a lot…. Dad, R.I.P (Return, If Possible…..)

Silent Whispers....

If you can't understand my silence, you will never understand my words........

I am in my silent mode now. I don’t feel like switching over to the talking mode. I say it best when I say nothing at all. Earlier, I was perfectly comfortable with my silence. But when you find a person who reaches out and takes out your heart, caress it softly and keeps it back, silence is difficult. I listen in confusion the fusion in my heart. I don’t dare to disturb it. I don’t know if I am avoiding my world or solely enjoying my solitude. I enjoy my silence. I marvel in it. I revel in it more when I communicate silently with someone special. Someone whom I can whisper sweet nothings, someone who can fill my silence, someone whom I can love silently....

No.. I am not lonely. It is just that I want to be alone with my thoughts for the time being. Shutting off the sounds, moving away from the chaos, it is just me and my dreams in a silent world.. till I come out again... refreshed, recharged, regenerated.....

Parting Whispers...

Today is the last day of my holidays. My suitcases are all crammed, ready to board. It is past midnight.. Sleep is nowhere in the nigh. I have to get up early tomorrow and push off… to the dry dreary desert. Outside, it is raining heavily. My windows are open to welcome him.. his sweet kiss on my parched lips. I beg for a kiss, and he becomes a skinflint.

I had been over-filled with dreams when I landed at the airport. But now I realise.. they were just dreams. There were no rains to splash water. My sweetheart wasn’t waiting for me with outstretched arms. My love went unanswered. My heart was crushed.. damaged beyond repair. I was helpless. The dreams I had been weaving right from my childhood days crumbled. I recoiled back inside my cocoon.

I was longing to meet him. But all I could have was a short glimpse. That too with the whole world around me. Why did he turn blind to my overflowing heart? Why did he turn deaf to my amorous heartbeats? Was I not worthy enough to love… and to be loved? The pangs of unreturned love is hard to bear. There are times when I wish I was silent about my inner passion. I cant stop loving him without stopping my heartbeats. It is 2.00am, and still I am wide awake… dreaming, desiring… I dream of him, near me, caressing, cuddling, caring… and then they scatter and shatter… I wont be able to get even a wink tonight. Thoughts of him crowd around. It is as if I’m with him, my head on his lap, feeling his warmth, his passion, his love…

No.. it has to stop. Not my love for him, but the expression of my feelings. It is time for me to take my emotions back, pack it airtight in my suitcase, and keep it deep under. I shouldn’t let it get away. Eventhough I love him deeply, eventhough I pine for him,I should never let it out again. Let me live in my own silence… Goodbye, my sweetheart… goodbye…