A Soothing Balm

“Let us be silent, that we may hear the whispers of the gods.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The past 3 weeks, to a large extent have been about me, my, and I.   With the husband, son and mother-in-law gone to US; my daughter and I form our twosome family in Bangalore.   Meera is at school from 8 am to 3:30 pm and during this time I am my sole companion.   I don’t remember ever having so much uninterrupted time just to myself.

In the beginning, I was really not looking forward to this solitude.   I feared boredom, restlessness, pensiveness and sheer loneliness.   I was emotionally strung about my son’s going to UC Berkeley because I felt he had grown-up too quickly.

In reality these days have been a one of a kind sojourn.   Solitude stills the mind.   Stillness clears it.   My mind refuses to entertain a hide and seek game with my thoughts anymore. It disallows me to tell myself, “Oh! I don’t have the time for this right now”.   It takes the restlessness out of the system and coaxes one to bring to forefront the questions, issues, thoughts that had been lurking in various corners of the mind.   I deal with them one at a time, at my own pace, with my own logic, without any defenses, and revel in the cathartic experience.

Many a times I do not speak for 7 or more hours and even such short periods give me a new appreciation of ‘Vipassana’ and ‘maun vrat’ (a vow of silence).   It seems as if I literally see time pass by; I am here yet, I am not here.   Well, I could also say, “There is no distraction, therefore I am completely here”.   :-)

I have not been able to resolve all those lurking issues that fed my restiveness.   However after having faced them calmly, I am more comfortable accepting them in whatever unsettled stage they are.   Solitude has brought rest to the restlessness.

Needless to say, I still look forward to 3:30 pm when my chirpy daughter is back from school.   She fills me in about her day at a speed that makes up for the silence in my life.   Having enjoyed the calm earlier, I thoroughly relish the excitement that she brings home.

Gotta Make My Own Bliss

The beautiful bungalow we have rented on the outskirts of Bangalore has breathtaking views and a sloped terracotta tile roof all over.   Inside, a ceiling with wooden beams shows off these earthen tiles, offsetting the cream colored walls with red oxide cement floors.   These tiles are a true example of beauty and practicality being unable to function hand in hand.   For the last couple of weeks, each evening has been spent positioning garbage cans and buckets all over the house to capture the rain water dripping from the ceiling.

This morning I was walking through the house with my neck craned up, trying to spot the leaky tiles.   I was irritated at the ‘sealant guy’ who has supposedly sealed these tiles a number of times.   It was beginning to dawn upon me that this was another one of those things that I would have to learn to live with- dodging the buckets and garbage cans when I get up to check on my daughter at night.   The incessant rains of the last few days had not helped perk-up me up and this certainly was not my idea of rain-water harvesting.



I walked about with a sore neck and a doubly sore mood, when unexpectedly I was enveloped in warm light.   I relaxed the corners of my squinted eyes and continued standing under the large sky-light in the foyer.   Psychedelic yellow, orange and red swirls filled up my blind vision.   They were beautiful in their own blurry manner; continually changing in color, pattern and intensity.   I was so overcome by the visuals and the warmth that I failed to think about the leaking tiles.   I knew they still existed in the background but taking pleasure in the peace that surrounded me seemed much more vital.

Those couple of minutes of composure were enough to ebb away my frustration at the rains, the leaks, the tiles, the buckets and the incessant dripping sounds through the night.   The warmth of the sun rays tenderly reminded me that inherently my bliss is there to find, it depends on what I choose to focus on.

How does a mother come to terms with an empty nest?

How do I come to terms with my child going half way across the world, with not being able to ruffle his hair for days, weeks, months at a stretch, with not seeing his bed unmade anymore, with not finding any dirty clothes in his laundry basket, and with not having a sweaty and filthy son back from soccer asking me if I wanted a hug?

The realization that my first-born is no longer under my wings is such a bitter-sweet feeling!   I know he is eager to stretch his wings and test the air-currents.   I hope during his flight he remembers to look far out and set his target somewhere on the horizon.   Of course he will not be afraid to venture some NASCAR loops and skids while flying.   I also trust that along the way he will look at some migratory birds flying in unison to cover long distances and learn from them the marvelous spectacle of team-work to help attain one’s goal.

I remember the times when he was asthmatic, and I stayed up all night watching his chest fall up and down and subconsciously monitored his breathing rate.   Now on his own, I hope he finds the insight and determination to handle his body with the care it deserves.   If only he could see his body as the newest model of the hottest Porsche around.   Ah! How he would love to put the best quality oil at the right intervals, rotate the wheels, maintain the air pressure, take care of any scratch (God forbid such happens!) and feel proud of the 0 to 120 it could do in flat 3 seconds.   I pray his imagination allows him such visualizations so that he can exercise regularly, eat nourishing food and continue to feel the wind whip through his hair while driving the Porsche down the freeway.

The joy in his eyes when he made Christmas ornaments as a child outshone all the Christmas light decorations in the city.   It was the true spirit of Christmas, for he sold the ornaments to help vaccinate infants in a remote village he had never visited.   I have faith that he will continually swoop and stop during his flights to share his blessings and feed his soul.

It takes tremendous strength to be honest with ones own self.   I wish his journeys bolster this trait.   There will be times when happenings will cast doubts along his way, when those closest to him will question his intentions, and when he will feel lost.   At such junctures, I wish he makes time to halt his flight, rest, introspect and have a candid conversation with his inner self to find the correct direction.   What fortune if such a rudder takes the place of ‘Google Maps’ in his life!

At times strong winds will sting his eyes and I hope he accepts those tears just as he will accept the tears of happiness.   Understanding his emotions will bring him peace and reduce the turbulence during his journeys.

So, how does a mother come to terms with an empty nest?   She learns to embrace the word ‘hope’.   Hope is such a beautiful sentiment with the ability to bring calm to pathos and to replace chaos with peace.   A mother hopes that the world her child embraces will give him much more joy, success, love, and peace than she would ever have been able to.

Taming Nature, Was It Meant To Be?

I stood on our porch this morning and gazed at the sea of greenery in the backyard.   Several hues and heights of green fluttering gently in the wind, presented a sight that would bring calm to any mind.   A few more steps and I stood under three magnificent trees, took a deep breath and looked up at the canopy formed by their knotty branches.   The clear blue sky playing hide-and-seek with the leaves and a few bright yellow butterflies dancing amidst the sun rays immediately made me wonder if that is why we tend to look up when we think of God.

Suddenly a sharp insect bite brought the reflective frame of my mind to an instant halt.   I realized that the sea of green I was standing in, was actually an overgrown mass of knee-high weeds, and mounds of crab-grass that had somehow managed to not get engulfed by the dandelions and poison ivy. Such a shame
, I thought; to let this place get into such a disparaged condition.   Hey! Wait a second, I thought again; hadn’t this very sight from the porch just brought calm to my mind.

Thus began the conflict, the battle of right versus wrong!   One part of me told me to get a glass of iced tea, sit on the porch swing and enjoy nature as it was meant to be.   Let it all grow wild, let the survival of the fittest come into play- who cares whether it is poison ivy, crab-grass, dandelions or any other plant. They all look serenely beautiful from a distance.   The other part, of course blamed me for being languid and not allowing nature to nurture as it was meant to be.   Get down on your knees, pull out the weeds, dig the soil, soften it, knead it, water it and plant something useful.   Watch the glory of the saplings germinating, flowers coming to fruit and then sit on the swing and enjoy the bounty.

So I sit on the swing, without the iced tea, without the bounty and ponder.   Who am I to pull out these vibrant greens that seem to grow so possessively on this piece of land?   They were here before I moved into this house.   Or a larger question, who am I to try to regulate what sprouts from the womb of Mother Earth?   That too, for my own benefit?   In a perfect world order, would I have the moral authority to do so?   Now, is it truly my lethargy that is feeding these audacious notions or have I really hit upon an all important query in life?   At this point, I don’t have a resolution and the pondering needs to continue.   However given the speed of my thoughts, one thing is for sure; I will need to make quite a few trips to the grocery store to put vegetables on the dinner table.   For home-grown vegetables to even be a possibility; the veggies will first have to participate in the ‘Survivors’ show being played out live in my backyard.   Tune in, 24/7, nature’s first reality show!