When Silence Speaks...

2019 has been a very beautiful year for me. A lot of rules and mental blocks were broken. Unknown stereotypes that were inbuilt in my system was cleansed. Its amazing how little we know about ourselves. Some deep habits, some beliefs that you dint even know existed, until something or someone makes you aware of yourself. I not only challenged myself with fitness, with trekking (even when I was unwell), with backpacking, with hostels, with diet(I used to eat less or untimely), with painting, with art, with emotions, with bouldering, with writing and a lot more. In between all this new found happiness, I did lose someone I loved. But life is what happens when we are busy making other plans. She will always stay close to my heart wherever I go. I was reading my previous blogs, on last few year-end tributes, and I realized I always had something good to take away from the sadness. And this year, I had an overdose of happiness, may be to compensate for all those tough years.

And so we carry the burden of our deeds in this life. It's our choice though, how much you want to carry. This was my first backpacking travel and I learnt something that I could relate to life. I have this 50L trek backpack, which I stuffed with everything I thought I needed, making it about 15kgs. (Used to the trekking style of packing, I had forgotten that here I will be in the civilization, so I really did not need "backups"). Anyway, I end up in the hostels where I meet quite a few folks who were just carrying. Normal dtapack of about 20-25L max for 3-4 weeks of trip.  And I was like "WTF!"  One of them gave a wise tip. She said, choose a small backpack. The smaller the bag, the lesser you will carry because you will stuff only what it can hold. I truly felt those words apply to our lives. Why should we carry the burden of memories with us that isn't essential? All that guilt, that remorse, that anger, that revenge, that hatred, that jealo

While loafing around in my granny’s home yesterday, I found these suitcases lying on the outside baithak (kind of backyard patio). I don’t know why but it kind of got to me. I got emotional - not in a sad way but in a very thoughtful way.  These were my dad’s. He travelled frequently for work and mostly by air or by road  for any 10-15 hours journey hiring  a driver for his car. He was a very organized and minimalist travel packer. His wardrobe was filled with white half sleeve shirts, and black or gray formal pants.   He would always travel with these 2 hard suitcases - the lower one carried his clothes. He would carry 2 ironed shirts, 1 formal pant, 1 lungi (just like pajamas, something all South Indian dads wear proudly), 1 towel, 1 handkerchief, his shaving kit and toiletries.  The other bag (the top small one) was his office bag - carrying all the files, documents and other paperwork. VIP was his most trusted and favourite brand when it came to bags. As was Bata for sho

Today I saw my little sister as an acting teacher. I have always considered her as a kid. We kind of grew older or rather mature drastically when our dad passed away few years back. I did see her handle that situation in a way I had never seen her before, which was true for both of us.  Now she is a doctor and she teaches post graduate students. I do visit her hospital every time I am home, and meet her colleagues/staff.  But I never saw her in action as a lecturer. I have seen the respect her students and fellow staff gave her. But today, when students walked in and started reciting their viva answers, and the way she was handling them, gave  me a completely different perspective of her.  My dad and I would always make fun of her, if she could ever handle patients or students. Because she was the shy one, the one who would not communicate if not required. Socializing was not her skillset, and it isn’t any great even now. But at her work she does great, she is vocal and talks

ऐसा   क्यूँ , आँसू   सिर्फ़  मैं  बहा  सकती  हूँ , पर   वो  नहीं ? आख़िर   वो  भी  तो  मेरी  तरह  इन्सान  है , दिल   उसका  भी  मेरी  तरह  परेशान  है। वो   मर्द  है  तो  क्या  हुआ , चोट उसको भी तो लगी है , दर्द   उसको   भी   तो   होता   है , डर उसको भी तो सताता है। उसकी आँखे नम हो तो वो कमज़ोर क्यूँ ? मेरे लिए सहानुभूति फिर उसकी जगहँसाई क्यूँ ? मर्द होने का ऐसा भोज उसपे क्यूँ ? दुनिया में उसका ऐसा वजूद क्यूँ ?  हम में फ़र्क़ होना जायज़ है पर हम में फ़र्क़ करना क्यूँ ? उसका भावुक होना नाजायज़ क्यूँ ? नरम दिल होने पर भी सक्ती वो दिखाए क्यूँ ? उसकी भावनाओं के लिए अलग नियम क्यूँ ? दिल का हाल बयान करने पे ऐसे बंदिश क्यूँ ? मर्द को दर्द नहीं होता , आख़िर ऐसी सोच क्यूँ ? रहने दो इन्सान ही उसे , आख़िर पत्थर बनाने की कोशिश क्यूँ ? - dedicated to the gentleness hidden behind the hardened face of strength in all the men around this world, continue being the

This world is not as it seems. Almost always it is much better than how it looks at the surface. I just realized that I have mostly written about society and how it constantly gets on my nerves. But I would not be doing justice in fact to myself, if I don’t acknowledge and appreciate all the goodness this world brings in.  And it’s not just about friends and family. It’s about all those strangers I have met in all these years, some of whose names I never asked or don’t remember now, but I do remember their faces, those moments and experiences.  As I write this, I remember a blind college girl Lily- a chatty and upbeat person, whom I met while walking into the apartment complex in Denver, how she had filled me with simplicity and positivity of life. Norman, a sales person in one of Pennsylvania’s Mazda showroom, a little over 70 year old person, who was a leading car racer of his time, had all old paper clippings from his younger days in racing gears and cars; he showed what f

Is it indecent to be happy?  To be happy from within.  To be happy inspite of the world around. To be happy for reasons not stated by the society. To be happy shamelessly. Every time I enter into the other side of the world, people look at me like something’s wrong with me. Like my senses are not in the order.  They are curious as to how or why am I happy.  They not only wonder but ask me “Is everything alright?"  They don't believe it when I say yes.  They question as to how is it possible?  They dispute the purpose of my life.  They challenge the credibility of my happiness.  They find my life incomplete and are very keen on completing it for me.  And as years have passed by, my reactions to this world has evolved. Initially I used to get angry, agitated; but now I find it amusing, intriguing to see how they judge me. I am no longer offended by what they say, I just don’t care enough anymore. Neither do I blame them for how they treat me.

There is no place like home.  I love traveling. I love exploring new places and culture. I love trekking and mountains. But what I love most about my life is the place where I can return to. Home keeps me in the state of wandering without letting me get lost. When I find my way back to the warm wrap of my family, I feel a sense of completion, some order to all the madness I live in.  When am away from home, enjoying all the travels, experiencing nature and people, my brain and heart is overwhelmed with everything it tries to absorb. Although I don't stress much and I always relax when am away from home; the form of relaxation at home is completely different. I just unwind completely and it lets me compose myself in a different way. There is a different kind of peace that takes over. The way my parents pamper and feed me with all the delicacies, how my 2 year old nephew brings in that innocent perspective to life, the way my sister protects and cares for me, how my brother

Life is a ____. I don’t know what word to fill in that blank today.  I heard from a friend that another soul left this world. Another angel is now smiling in the sky.  My friends mom, a very jovial and fun loving person, close to my heart, just vanished from this earth. Leaving us no chance to even understand the impact of her void.  After my Dad’s sudden demise 6 years back, I know better not to trust that loved ones will be with me till eternity. That uncertainty of having or not having the company of your loved one the very next minute, it truly kills. Just never ever end any conversations with a fight and always reconcile your differences when there’s a chance. Love them as much as you can today, and tell them how much they matter to you. Hold on to them as much as you can because they won’t ask you even once when they just escape from this world. And you will be left there standing in distraught craving for, just one more smile, one more word, one more hug.

Don't talk about religion, you will be called extremist. Don't talk about gays, you will be called sexist. Don't talk about color, you will be called racist. Don't talk about country, you will be called jingoist. Don't talk about women, you will be called chauvinist. Today we live in the world where we have to think so much before we speak.  Anything you speak out of free will with no ill intentions are being held against you in the name of harassment or being offensive. But I fail to understand why?  Literally, in today's world you CANNOT have an honest and open conversation of substance in public. Everything is controversial or a sensitive topic. Which leaves us with nothing but small talks about burgers, dresses or ketchup. (that sounds messed up, and that's how I feel today) Why? I was in a meeting earlier this week, where we were reviewing an org chart, and my VP (an American) suggests a correction in that pictorial representation

I did not  realize until one of my friend who visited my home recently bought to my attention that I have a thing for the dancing girl. Unknowingly my heart connects to it, which shows up in my art. I had 4 paintings and a few collectibles of a ballet dancer.  I was looking at them yesterday and thinking, why? Why my sub-conscious mind or heart leans towards the dancing girl? I think it’s that free blissful soul of a woman that speaks to me. When she bends and swirls like there’s nothing in this world that matters to her at that moment. It reflects that freedom, that pure happiness, that act of breathing everything in, of embracing everything around, of just being herself.  Just the act of stretching your arms wide, bending your back and looking up at the sky - fills you in with so much peace(try it once if you haven’t already). Now I know that I have always carried this feeling; I checked my pictures; any place I connect to, I pose in the same manner. 

Last month I was in USA, travelling around meeting friends both at work and outside. I was meeting them all after at least 8 months And every single person who met me almost after 8 months and some after an year, the first thing they said to me as soon as they met me was - “You look good. Looks like Canada suits you well”, “Have you met someone? Are you dating someone?”, “You look so happy. You definitely love Canada.”  And these weren’t words by just my friends from years of friendship; but even my colleagues from office, had the same reaction. Pretty much, every single person I met, over 50 folks, could see the difference.  I was so curious that I asked couple of them, what’s the change that’s so evident to the world? My hairstyle dint change, it’s still short; I couldn’t see anything different in me. They replied that I genuinely look happy, there’s a glow on my face, like that of someone in love. And I smiled. I don’t know what changed in me, and there is no doubt I a

Akka, does that mean socializing is very important to explore ourselves? (*Akka means elder sister in Kannada) This was the question my sister's friend asked me when she read one of my blog ( ' Re-discovering Myself - Har ki Dun '; it was about how I found more about myself during the trek with strangers).  She is one of my regular reader; and always provides some feedback or follow up on my blog posts. I had to think about it a bit. Analyze my perception.  I say YES.  We won't know a lot about ourself until we don't let elements of nature play with our soul. What irritates us, what pleases us, what angers us, what disheartens us - in simple terms what effects us and how we react to that; defines our personality. It not only shapes our personality but it also helps in introducing us to our true self; like holding a mirror at our face so we can see who we truly are. For instance, I have been staying alone without roommates for few years now. So stayi

Who are you? Where are you?   Are you still somewhere in my future whom I am yet to cross my paths with? Or are you somewhere in my past whom I have already met as someone or ignored as no-one? Is there still a second chance for my heart to beat in rhythm of love? Or have I already missed the last train to that station? Will I be sharing the rest of my life with you? Or am I already leading a happy one without you? What is more crazy - to think about you who I don't know about? or to not know in my heart whether I really want to think about you? Why is everyone so sure that you exist? And why is it that I just don't care to bet whether you do or do not exist?  Have I become insensitive to the art of love? Or it's just that I have stopped planning for unknowns? What will I do when I see you? Will my heart know and my eyes fall in love at the first sight of you? or my mind will start cautiously treading the waters? Are you the one who will comp

I resumed painting after 4 months of break - with all the travels and hikes; then catching up with work etc.; and I realized that my life (may be everyone's life too, but anywhoo); is so much like these paintings. My paintings almost always never turn out as I picture them. So with time, I have learnt to just have a bare skeleton in my mind of what I want to paint while the style of painting, colour, medium of painting- everything just falls in place as I start painting; and it ends up as beautiful as it can be.  My life has been no different. I don’t plan my future, almost always never goes as planned, so it's been over a decade that I stopped planning. I just have a bare roadmap of may be 2-3 weeks, and things fall in place eventually; and yeah, almost always life turns out to be very colourful and happening.  Another co-relation, I generally do abstract painting; and when you see the final painting it looks like it’s very chaotic or that I have random strokes all over