Soul mate, wherefore art thou?

A beautiful yellow butterfly shared the air space with us for a couple of minutes while our taxi was en route from Dehradun to Delhi.   Then I noticed another butterfly, brown in color, flying in tandem right under the yellow butterfly.   They soared, dipped, and inched to the sides as a graceful ice skating team dancing in perfect harmony.   “Ah! Soul mates”, I sighed to myself with longing.  

This was the beginning to a seemingly long thought process.   Is finding a soul mate a romantic fallacy, a quixotic belief such as ‘love at first sight’ or is it a truth that is meant to be, a jigsaw puzzle where that single piece with the perfect fit does exist.   Is it a destination or a journey? Is the connection based upon spirituality, emotional fulfillment, physical attraction, common goals, magnetism drawing opposites together, thinking alike or having been together for so long that life seems incomplete without each other?

Strolling down the meandering path of memories, I could not pinpoint one single person who has understood me at all times, with whom I have always felt complete, who accepts all of me, all the time- just the way I am, or who has the ability to perpetually bring out the best in me.   It was quite a dispiriting thought; having covered half or more of my lifetime and still no sign of the perfect jigsaw piece.  

I decided to plunge deeper into the thicket of thoughts and reminiscences.   I remembered the times when a friend was there to listen to me without being judgmental.   And the times my husband helped unravel difficult situations for me, his efforts to bring me happiness.   The emotional fulfillment my children bestow upon me, especially the times when I held them as tiny bundles, secure in my arms.   My confidence that my parents love me just the way I am.   My sister’s willingness to be a perfect friend and sister rolled into one, whenever I need her.   The thoughts I could share with my brother knowing that they would always be secure with him.   The spiritual connection I felt while sitting on the porch swing and eyeing the immense greenery in our yard.  

So yes, I have not found the “one” soul mate I may be destined for.   But then, perhaps this search is not a destination; it is a journey with several milestones on the way.   My soul mates complete different parts at different points in my life.   Yet, the nagging thought stayed forefront, “What about the times when the whole still has a hole?” What then? Am I destined to be incomplete, with holes?

Pensively I looked out the window at the butterflies and realized that the brown butterfly flying in synchrony with the yellow one was nothing, but its shadow.   It dawned upon me that the only way to fill all the holes and find my perpetual soul mate was to look into a mirror.   This search must end within my own self.   There are jigsaw pieces that will fit at various places in my life, but I must become the piece that will complete the puzzle.

Does that sound right, or is this just another case of “sour grapes”?

If only I could hear, what I deem as meant for me, nothing less, and nothing more!

Have you ever wished for the ability to close your eyes and in effect close your ears as well? The ability to stop the constant cacophony, to hit the mute button on all electronic devices, to zip the lips of people around you, to soundproof your tympanic membrane . . .

My recent round trip from Bangalore to Dehradun left me wanting to move to a city where sign-language was the law.   The ordeal started with the 6 am airport bus.   The radio blared songs.   These were interspersed with a very peppy DJ ensuring that the listeners were paying attention and with advertisements of sexy wardrobes capable of changing my life, apartments that could make my home heavenly, grocery store prices that could double my purchasing power.   Wow! What else could one ask for?

Well, the two fellow travelers behind me ensured that the 1 hour trip thoroughly enlightened me on the architecture of their under-construction houses, how the grills would be hidden to show off the floor to ceiling windows, the balcony door would have a metal plate sandwiched between the wood, the roof-top garden would be waterproofed, the drop down ladder from the attic could be widened so their wives could access the attic as well, etc, etc.  

The cell phone of my vivacious neighbor to the left had a ring tone of a child wailing on the top of his lungs.   I am sure she could win a popularity contest hands-down because her phone rang every 1-2 minutes.   Of course, there were at least 7-8 other cell phones with distinct ring tones ringing melodiously at various intervals as well.   The gentleman in front of me was ragging a junior at this unearthly hour; telling him how to handle the next client to clinch the contract.   I had selected a seat right under the TV screen thinking that I would be able to see straight out the front window of the bus without an onslaught from the movie that was playing.   I forgot out of sight does not mean out of ears as well.  

What amazed me was the ability of my ears to decipher each and every sound byte and feel the assimilated information pounding in my head.   Would technology ever advance to a stage where two conversing people would do so at a wave length privy just to them? Where my cell phone ring would be heard by no one but me? Where I could tune in or tune out of the radios dispensing information to the public? Where separations in the acoustic spectrum would ensure that one person’s music does not become another person’s noise?

I turned to my co passenger- my daughter, to share my marvelous vision of the future.   My voice at varying decibels had no auditory impact on her.   With her eyes closed, she certainly was tuned out, at peace, at rest, enjoying.   I decided not to intrude upon her reverie.   To make my wait for science’s leap towards noise-free living less inaudible, I realized, I just needed to follow my daughter’s route- purchase a set of head-phones and use them. Except that I would do so without a MP3 attached to the other end.