other side of this life..

i want to collect
my thoughts
and watch them
disappear..

same situation

at the gym, i am handed keys to the same permanent locker i had, before i left (and they don't keep a history)

its like i never left. time is standing still.

a sort of homecoming

in my mind, we step over the threshold, together, right feet first, and walk through the corridors of time- gently touching crumbling yellowing walls bearing memories of a lifetime- our lifetime.

we walk through the kitchen, with its folding table, noses wrinkled at the smell of ghee being made.
we run up the 32 steps to the terrace and watch the stars, lanterns in hand, and wait for the elusive night watchman, with his fierce whistle and rhythmic stomp of the cane.
we stroll through the garden overgrown with mint, and bend to pick up a pink and white flower from that resilient creeper, the one that survived all these years.
we walked to an organized closet labelled daddy's, and fold away a few stray, unironed shirts.
we gaze at the wall and straighten the collage of happy times- birthdays, weddings, graduations, anniversaries.
we walk through the dining hall- wiping the dust off the table under where mitu once slept peacefully while everyone searched for her frantically.
we scramble up the attic, where mini was given time-outs for biting the infant me
we follow the laughter to the corner with my mothers handprints, pasted on mitu's wedding- carefully hidden behind the couch, the same corner where i, when 4 years old, hid after the tv "slapped" me.

in my mind, we, three sisters, like the three asoka trees in the garden, still standing tall and proud oblivious to the surrounding havoc wreaked by time, hold hands and walk out- empty handed, yet so full of memories, together..

love and peace or else

a gentle word
of kindness
and peace prevailed..

family rules

travel exposes you to feelings that you never imagine you are capable of experiencing or rather expressing, so they say. I was a non-believer till I wrote this blog entry.

Some time ago, Papaji left.

A long time ago- for four years- every day, when I was home from college, every single day, I would drive past the model town chatwallah, past ‘niku park’, past ‘my foot!’ to get my share of ‘patashas’- a sweet treat. Papaji got them from the gurudwara.

I shared more with him than I did with my ‘real’ grandfathers- his stories about the Indian partition, his sorrow over losing Biji with a simple hug and now, little did I know then, his family.

Because family is who you trust- for everything, without a second thought, completely.

For my family- I feel blessed to have you all in my life.
I love you all.

second thoughts

I didn’t have any expectations when I started out- none of self-discovery, self-realization (or self-anything). I haven’t had an epiphany (yet). I haven’t rediscovered myself and I feel, I haven’t even changed that much, except I am a lot more patient perhaps?

For the last 3.5 months, I have just lived life very different from the one I have had before , where I think about everything I do, decisions I make- no matter how trivial.

I have just lived a life without any expectations- from anyone, any place, anything- that’s what been different and that has made all the difference.

I feel fearless today. I feel like standing in an open field, arms raised to the blue skies, eyes closed, my sense of feeling enhanced, going around in circles, doing cartwheels (if only i could)- to go giddy- intentionally..

I remember, vividly, the moment I decided it was time that night in December. I thought out loud- What’s stopping me? A long silence followed. Me.
I was ready to let go.

Not a single day goes by when I don’t think of the ones I have loved, ones who have left me behind, ones I have left behind - not one.

It’s a great burden, it’s a great joy.
today, I choose to share it and multiply it with you all.

hello old friend!

Ocean Beach, San Francisco

it might be sometime before I see a familiar face again. it was so great to see nadia for 10 days in laos. i was dreading the day she left and its here.
it got me thinking about what I miss about the life I left behind

i miss family and friends- I miss talking to them at the push of a button.
i miss midnight feasts (MNF), bike rides, bhangra nights, swing dancing, bollywood nights, BFF dinners, arguments and just plain conversations

i miss hot oatmeal and walnuts
i miss home-made paranthas
i miss baking a salmon with lemon and garlic salt and a glass of my favorite $7 malbec

i miss sunny afternoons on the papasan
i miss sunlight peeking through the copper canyon curtains, the treasures tucked away in the bookcase, the warmth of the down comforter, the wealth in the presidio library

i miss taking the #1 or #3 to china town and union square
i miss my morning drive to work (yes I do!)

i miss the pain and pleasure of making candles, paintings, soy lattes

i avoid my workout playlist because i miss running – i miss the runner's high, i miss waving thank yous, i even miss the amino vital after the run!
i really, really miss the Sunday morning long runs on the Great Highway- with its share of tourists, traffic, the sun, the ocean breeze, plums on the way back.

so after a month of not doing much except walking, i decided to do shadow boxing a few times a week, followed by some situps and pushups.

Who knows how long this phase will last, but right now, right here, it feels great – welcome back, endorphins!

goin' back

bridge over troubled water

during my journey from rayenda to dhaka, the bus is loaded into a ferry on river padma and we float towards dhaka for 3 hours. there's water all around and yet, there is an acute shortage of drinking water.

i get acquainted with a photo journalist from bangladesh, akash. amidst talks about issues that bangladesh and he faces in his profession, i get a preview of his work- every single picture is a work of art, it tells a story- silently, eloquently.

it gets me thinking about my experiences in bangladesh. for every country i visit, i decide to register my impressions, how/what will i remember about it, what i take away from it (and they will always be "live" lists)

for bangladesh, i will remember
- my life experiences with an amazing group of people from all over the world, out to make a difference in a forgotten part of this world- my money (and manual labor) will be for hodr!
- a maze of water and land
- children laughing and playing in ponds, rivers while taking their afternoon dip
- questions, questions from everyone, everywhere
- the best milk-tea i have had (with condensed milk)
- palms, coconut trees, purple flowers (hyacinths?)
- precarious bridges of all kinds - bamboo, log, concrete slab
- life moving at a snail's pace (and internet connections, too)- without a tv, fan, car, refrigerator- things i have taken for granted
- but most of all, i will remember the generosity, humility, love and kindness of the people of bangladesh- from the little girl, who insisted on me having the last bit of her cookie to mahmud, who invited me to spend new years with his family to saleem and shahjahan, who fed their guests more food than they could probably afford.
- my hodr experience - which deserves another blog post

my most memorable moments
- the celebration at rasulpur bazar
- sitting on the sidelines and watching the laughter, when we opened the playground
- the two hours i spent in the village, distributing photos

i end with a poem by walt whitman that i read recently
location and times, what is it in me that meets them all, whenever and wherever, and makes me, at home?
forms, colors, densities, odors- what is it in me that corresponds with them?

sweet little lies

i choke when children ask me about my baba-ma.
i wonder if they already know about death. not wanting to be the one to tell them, i lie, and make them believe that they still live on this fertile land, where wheat and water is in abundance. i just wish it wasn't a lie or maybe it isn't.