(Dis)Connecting Whispers.....

My youngest son, who is in sixth grade, today professed that he is the odd one out in his class. The grounds? He is the lone one who doesn’t own a cell phone. Likewise, my elder one also stands out, not because he is the only one in class who plays classical violin or who can play the drums.. but because he doesn’t have a laptop. His cell problem had been solved as a birthday gift.

I didn’t have a cell or a laptop ten years ago. But then my memory was sharper, and I had Time. If ever I needed to call anyone, I could go to any phone, and get the number straight from my head. All the numbers, birthdays, anniversaries, and appointments were stored neatly inside my brain. It never got suspended, or the screen never froze. I used to call friends to clear doubts, and visited libraries frequently. I had piles of notes filed neatly. Carbon copies given by friends were a luxury. I used to write pages and pages with a real pen.

When I was in school, using a calculator in maths class was cheating, and you were a queen if you owned one. It was a prescribed medicine to repeat the multiplication tables daily. But now, every device, be it watch, phone, computer (even notebooks and files)… has a calculator tucked in somewhere. No need to think, no need to count on your fingers.. just type the numbers..

I can clearly recall the hours I had spent in the card shops, hunting for the greeting cards for dears and nears. The perfect words to match the perfect picture for the right person was very important. Birthdays, Christmas, New year.. the celebrations became exciting with cards. I used to wait eagerly for that soon-going-to-be-extinct creature called Postman.. Each card and letters you got had a personal touch knitted with love.

With all our modern connectivity, I feel more and more detached from the outer world. I get a wind about my friends through their scraps, without having to talk to them directly. Long descriptive letters written painstakingly to the loved ones became short sms, which one has to think twice to get the real meaning with those short forms. I hate short forms. So it takes me forever to type on that small keypad.

Is communication becoming an afterthought? Something we do when we don’t have anything else to do? Or something that we do together with something else? Talking with your parents while watching television, chatting with eight or ten people at the same time, there’s always some or other kind of distraction.. You never give your full attention to one. The ability just to communicate with someone alone is slowly getting lost.

When was the last time you wrote a long hand written letter? When was the last time you had gone to a shop and bought a greeting card? When was the last time you added or multiplied a four digit number without using a calculator? When was the last time you dialled a phone number without looking at the contact list?

There are times when I wished I could turn the clock back… but then panic grips me. How would I ever able to contact anyone? How would I love the meaning of words? How would I check the movie timings? How would I shop online? How would I clear my doubts? How would I get some recipes and tips? How would I read the newspapers and magazines? How would I know what is happening around me? How would………I survive????????

Random Whispers.......

It’s such a long long time… My ink went on strike. Words flew afar. Thoughts crashed. Mind became standstill. I was worn out… the aftermath of a hard labour. I know not from where to start.. what to write… After the new birth, how can I be my old self?

There were some realisations… and some confusions… I had lost something… but gained another. Which one should I accept? I had loved .. not once, but twice… Shall I go after my love.. or shall I accept the love which came to me? I am happy in the knowledge that I am loved and wanted. No, I am not going to talk again about love.

Today I feel very contented. I had a long walk alone in the rain… and came back saturated. I shrugged off the raindrops and the hurt from my coat. The yellow flowers had bloomed and had fenced the roads. The mere picture of yellow flowers peeping at me makes me happy. It is impossible not to have a smile when you see those yellow flowers dancing in the wind, swaying their heads.. Yellow is the colour of sunshine, the colour of life.. It makes me feel cheerful and bold.

Some things I miss a lot in my life.. The sound of the train, the song of an unseen bird, the flapping of wings, the gust of water from the nearby tap, the tinkling of bells, the cacophony of nature, the creaking bamboos, the swish of an animal’s tail, the song from the temples… These were the morning alarms in my childhood.

For a long time, I had wanted to taste some pure fresh toddy straight from the tree. I had expressed this wish to my husband and cousins, but all were diplomatic in saying, “Of course you can’t!” I got a chance when we went on holidays. While we were roaming near a coconut grove, a friend’s father brought some fresh toddy in an earthen pot, with some seafood. To my untrained palate, it smelled repulsive at first. The fish was too hot. Tears flowed profusely, sweat trickled down my body, but there was no stopping me from sipping and munching. The toddy was sweet. Sweeter was the feelings which followed. I became weightless, and began to float in the air. All I had to do was to spread my hands.. and lo.. there I go… floating, flowing… The world around me was so beautiful… The people looked pretty. The water in the river was so inviting… I wanted to giggle all the time. I was amused when others tapped me on my shoulders and asked me to behave myself. What was wrong in giggling and laughing and floating when life is so beautiful? My intoxication came from inside me. I think toddy has an uncanny way of settling inside the stomach and fermenting there to form a potion that entices and seduces you.

I feel so happy to knock off my to-do-before-I-die list one by one. And I can’t wait for the next one……..

Wishing Whispers.....

Here I bare my heart… unburdening it all... a heart bursting with love for you. The love that went unobserved even though our eyes had locked over and over… The love you didn’t spot trembling in my lips, eager to come out. But then, how will you ever know? I had never voiced anything. I wanted nothing more than to saunter through the same path you had trodden years ago before me. I knew that I was blindly tagging along your footsteps. I craved to turn into your shadow. All the time, I remained behind the curtains…unobtrusively... I used to steal glances at you from my numerous hidden corners. Every time I looked at you, a veil was always ready in my hands to cover my face and heart.

I had always thought about the women in your life. I used to observe them closely, wondering what is it that made you choose them over me… I used to wonder if I will ever get a corner in your heart.

Summers passed quietly.. followed by winters. Flowers blossomed. We both changed, and went in our own ways. Still, my heartbeat synchronized with yours. Thoughts of you were always prominent in my mind. The leaves of memory always made noises. My pen flowed for you. Muses bestowed me with words.

How could I not love you? It had come to me unawares in my childhood, grew with me through adolescence, and ripened with age. One day, when you hear the soft rustle of leaves behind you, when you feel a silent footstep following you, you might look back… But I won’t be there. I will be waiting, hiding behind the trees, waiting for you to pass so that I can follow you.

Sometimes, love is like this, my dear. Unheard, unseen, it just follows you without entering your heart. It follows you, through life, through death, in the next birth, in a never ending wait…….

Blocking Whispers........

I get these blocks sometimes. From time to time it is writer’s block. Now and then it is speaker’s block. At times it is thinker’s block. Occasionally it is reader’s block.

Often I am stumped with something I wish to write. It is not that words don’t come to me. It is not that the muse never drops in on me. She does. The words too.. They come uninviting, looking coyly at me, footing themself at an arm’s reach… I can see them. But powerless to feel and fondle. They are a bit timid to come near me. Like the cup of coffee that is still to reach the lips… Like the book that is yet to finish… Like an unfinished conversation... Like an incomplete mating…. The pangs of labor becomes agonising. But…

There are times when words fail to come to my mind. I stumble for the exact word I want to utter. I think and think till fumes come out of my ears. I am inept to express myself. My mind isn’t blank, just too dense with thoughts that need untangling. If I ponder hard for the exact word I want to say, the person with whom I am talking to wont be able to resist and will jump in. If I don’t think and use the first word that comes at that instant, it often ends up in a humourous situation. I just ramble and babble. These days if I take my pen, I am able to write clear, concise, precise razor-sharp sentences. And the sentences come to me with lightning speed, which reminds me how my brain can fire.

Then there are those occasions when I falter for something to think. Ideas just elude me. My mind will be blank. Or too many thoughts at the same time, but none that I can recollect. I think of a million things at the same time, and yet think about nothing at all. The flashes of ideas that comes to me for a millisecond vanishes with supersonic speed. Then my mind re-writes. The original becomes ordinary. The wit gets tarnished. My mind wonders aimlessly. I wonder what I wondered! I wonder why I wonder thus!

Now and then, I get sick of the printed world, and go on strike. I can’t get into any books, can’t concentrate on the contents. I had suffered the same thing during my post graduation, so many books I HAD to read, that I didn’t want to read any of them at all. I had the courage to appear for Viva Voce reading just ‘Wuthering Heights’. Forced reading books are as bad as forced feeding food. One has to let the appetite arise naturally. I used to go into reading overdose that I wouldn't have stopped if I didn't have to. Late at night, all I want to do is surf on the net or chat with friends. And that block is one I am sure I will never get- Internet block.

Of late, a new block is also on the roads- Blogger’s block. I refuse to visit my blog, and when the people dear to me ticks me off for not writing anything, I try to make them see that I am going through the Blogger’s block period. Like a woman undergoes her menopause.

Thank God there is nothing like an electrician’s block, technician’s block, plumber’s block, a supermarket block, restaurant block… But there can surely be a kitchen block, cleaning block, wife's block......................................................

Dreaming Whispers....

I am in love… deep and hard... with the mountains…

The Himalayas beckons me. Himalayas - Where the earth meets the sky! It has become a passion for me. Ever since I have read a few books on it, I always dream of going deeper in the Himalayas… I feel the mountain hides many secrets. I want to walk through the untrodden trails, filling my lungs with crisp fresh air, and listen to the music of the snow. I want to lie down in their folds, explore its deeper and higher reaches, and wander all through the mystifying valleys and peaks… I like the idea of shivering to keep myself warm. I am hooked. It summons me to rest in its lap. I feel the Himalayas everyday. I dream of setting my foot on the King of the mountains, and then go to Kailas, and come back. I dream of residing in a place where I can go there whenever I want to.

I gave a suggestion to my family- to take an apartment somewhere in the Himalayan valley. They, in turn, gave me another suggestion. They will settle in Delhi, and I can visit them whenever I feel like!!! All three were in unison shouting at me not to involve them in my madness.

Another place where I want to spend a day is Kudajadri. But here, only one day… Not a lifetime like in The Himalayas. While Himalayas is more spiritual, Kudajadri is, to me, romantic. The beautiful surroundings, the pouring rain, lush green forests, windswept hills, the enchanting Sowparnika…

To go to both these places, I need a strong hand with me… The hand that leads me to knowledge… the hand that teaches me about life… the hand that shows me how to love… the hand that catches me when I stumble…

I know that the mountains are not what they seem from a distance. They seem to me impossibly far away… still I know it can be approached. So far I have seen it only as a painting… the master stroke of the creator.

There is a saying, "when you fall in love with mountains, they keep calling you again and again". How true! My heart is filled with the call of the mountains… I am dying to reach my destination… A destination which will always be my passion, my pain and my pleasure...!!!

Celling Whispers....

I have a confession to make. I carry a murder weapon on my person every day and night, and I go to bed with it next to me within easy reach. I rely on it for my work, my leisure and my pleasure. And I won’t part with it under any circumstances. I think I am going to become a Nomo phobic… Yes… I can’t imagine a situation when I don’t have my mobile with me!!!

Curiously I don't actually make that many mobile phone calls; it is the comfort of having the phone that I like. I get suffocated in a place where I don’t get my mobile range. I would be wondering who might be trying to reach me or message me, even though only a very few dear ones call me on my cell. The very sight of it brings me the memories of my loved ones. The mere contact with it fills me with the warmth of their touch. If handsets were alive, mine would have many stories to tell… The eagerly awaited calls, the kisses exchanged, the naughty loving messages, the love given and taken, the silent embraces, eased tears…

Living without the cell phone is like living in an isolated desert. All the communication with the outer world lies inside that small thing. The only numbers which I know by-heart is my mom’s and hubby’s. My cell is my walkman… it is my camera… it is my alarm clock… it is my personal reminder… it is my album. In fact, it is my life... It is what connects me to my dreams. The old adage, Books are a man’s best friend should be changed to cell phones are now a man’s best friend. It is a need, it is a want, it is something that you never forget to take with you where ever you go.

Again I say, I don’t use cell phone much… But only now, once more, to message someone that I am posting a new one in my blog………….

Loving Whispers.........

I am back from my retreat now… Back from my home. Back to the dry-looking vast desert (as vast as my dreams!)… back to my once mind-numbing chores... back to the daily routine. Coming back after an escape in India is a very big deal for me. I am one of those many who can never look forward to coming back after holidays. It is not that I don’t enjoy spending my private life with my husband and kids. I do. A lot. It is just that when it is over, I am not yet ready to get back to the humdrums.

This time, I am back from the holidays feeling I need a holiday. Usually I am fully recharged by the time I am back. But this time, life has been too hectic. Mind was never still.

The holidays have been a mixture of gains and losses… of do’s and dares. I did something which I had not dared to do for around 25 years of my life. I dared to open the Pandora’s Box which had been tightly sealed for more than two score years of my life. Out jumped greedily the emotions and feelings which would’ve surely made even the most patient one hit the roof. I had controlled my emotions for too long that suddenly, when a small fissure cropped up, they sprang and jumped out too quickly.

I had kind of led a reclusive life… kind of aloof, in my own world of unresolved thoughts and memories. I had had a kind of melancholic disposition, with people around who cared for me, and whom I cared for. But then there was none to be called as a soul mate. There was no thinking alike kind of relationship… just a very functional, mutually beneficial kind of sharing. I used to languish in my own world, stuck to the past. But now everything has changed. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. To give me another chance. Well, heard… rather than saw. Was too eager to see that light, to feel it, and to cuddle in its warmth. But that remains a dream. The tomorrow never came… Still the light lingered. And lightened even the darkest corner of my life. The black became white. It erased the depressing shadows surrounding me. Tears (though unshed) became smiles. I got away from all the negativity. The light was no more hidden by any screen. The curtain was parted to let in love. Nothing was any more behind the veils.

Now I am out from behind the curtains. I think about the way things might have been if I had come out much earlier. But no regrets. At least now than never. I never believed I would get this far. I can handle it. I am in control of my life now. I’ve been shaken out of my ignorance. The time has come for me to choose. I have been pushed back from the edge of self destruction. The one who has been showing light has extended his strong arms…. And has taken my hands, and set my feet upon the long path of self discovery.