TOUCH WOOD

Went out hunting for a desk.
 Landed up roaming around various localities of Pune just to enjoy the lush greenery.
 When large banyan or other heavily foliaged trees meet at the top forming a skywalk across the road, I am so tempted to linger awhile in the shade of the canopy stretching across. It beckons me to pause a little in the daily humdrum of life, hurtling towards the end at breakneck speed.

Ever since I was a little girl ,travelling along the Grand Trunk Road  around my hometown in Punjab, was such a delight, because of the huge trees lining it. To my child's mind it seemed a certainty, that Sher Shah Suri ,the great Mughal had planted each of those trees with his own hands and came to water them daily, because he got that road built !

The shapes I would conjure up in the mazes of those branches and leaves, swaying to the music of the breeze, would fire my imagination further still. The bus would rapidly swish past the trees, in rapid succession and my imagery would run  the pictures  through like a comic strip. I could see the pixies, elves, and gnomes scrambling all over, in and out of their homes concealed in those huge tree trunks, by the thick screens of aerial roots. A few fairies could be seen prancing and dancing amongst the green and gold leaves, just for the joy of it. Others, busy doing errands ,were seen scurrying around from branch to branch swinging from the  dangling rope like offshoots. Yet, there were some who saw me smiling longingly, and waved to reassure me that one day I could  join them. Occasionally a knight in shining armour would ride by my bus window on his white steed and I would hurry to follow him, lest I  miss  the adventure.

My reverie was brought to an abrupt end when my driver gruffly asked me where exactly I wanted to go. I gave him the address, disgruntled at his audacity in interrupting my thoughts.We drove around  to a number of stores but the modern day tables did not appeal to me. They were  lifeless and lacked character. I wanted one, which could share with me many hours of togetherness;  live those moments, with as much joy and sorrow as I did, when the characters in my writings smiled or sorrowed. 
Tired of hunting in showrooms and malls, I walked into a roadside antique  shop. The sales man showed me some furniture, which made me nostalgic, reminding me of my childhood, when such designing and craftsmanship was the norm. I wandered around in the shop, admiringly  touching the carving on the edge of  a table here ,the brass handles on a chest of drawers there, but couldn't see any writing table.
 Disappointed, I thanked the salesman, turning to leave, when my eye fell on a patch of  carving and inlay work on the corner of some piece of furniture, behind a door. Stepping in, I saw a writing desk just the size, shape and design, that I wanted for my den. I looked at it lovingly wiping off the dust, stroking and admiring each line, grain and striation on the polished  teak wood. My fingers could feel the songs it sang, of  the years it stood rooted into the earth, when a majestic tree. I bargained over the price, bringing it down to my budget and paying some advance ,asked for a quick delivery.

Tired but thrilled over my acquirement, I waited to cross the road, when I glimpsed the excited face of a little girl, peering out of a passing car window as she pointed to the dense clumps of  roadside trees, excitedly saying something to a companion. 

Getting into the car, I asked the driver to stop at a nursery where good tree saplings could be bought.    

Why Did I Neglect My Blog ?

Did you wonder why I was not blogging since some time? Anyway who's bothered what I do or where I am. It's all in our own minds imagining we're being missed.
Family, travelling, my son's entry into the Indian Film and Music World; along with the associated joy and pride being shared with friends, International Lit. Fest and harvesting a rich bouquet of experiences interacting with renowned writers, poets and lyricists kept me busy.
Now that matters are settling down, I will be more regular, I hope.
Blogging, FB, creative writing are all addictive activities and the net lures you into it's maze where you can't find the way out. But connecting with friends and ventilating one's thoughts is an essential too.

Happy Navratras and may the Divine Mother shower peace on earth.

The Many Splendoured One

To the One only

One glance to sweep

 all my sorrows away

one smile to reawaken

joy in my life

one word from the heart

to lift my spirits

one gesture that will be

my crutch in crippling days

One rose my many hued

garden to which

one colour if you care to add

 I will paint

 a rainbow.

All these I will preserve

 deep in the core of my being

hidden from the prying eyes

of the world and wait

for that one drop of nectar
 from your lips

to quench the thirst

of my parched soul.

 One spark of your glory
will bathe life in the light of infinite stars

and I will venture

from captivity to freedom.

Having seen you within myself
 I shall sail to a safe haven
as your effulgence
lights my  path over choppy waters.

 

 

From Captivity to Freedom

My life's journey was going along just like most other people around me. But, from childhood there was a restlessness in my mind and my intellect could not find the way to quell it, or find solutions or answers. Certain circumstances changed, all that I thought was meant to be, was suddenly under a scanner.

This happened pretty late, a little after I'd crossed fifty; late enough for one to normally feel insecure, uprooting all that I'd worked towards achieving till then. But the call was loud and clear. I had to walk a different path, to achieve clarity about my purpose of coming on earth. The transition was difficult, I'd say, very painful at times. As a friend of mine told me, "It's not hurdles or problems, these are lifelong bondages being released. The sound of those shackles being cut, and the pain while it is happening is difficult to bear, but you will realise and value your freedom later." How prophetic her words were.

The very meaning of the word spirituality, was unknown to me. I had confused it with religion. Customary rituals had always appeared so much mumbo jumbo and kept me from following any one religion.

Born a Sikh, educated in Christian institutes, married into a Hindu family, I would try to please all the Gods, reluctantly, just to save face. None of it was satisfying or acceptable to me. Somewhere deep inside my core, faith in an unknown power and my own intrinsic goodness, had lain dormant. One after the other, spiritual teachers kept appearing in my life and blessing me with their Grace.

A time came when I was standing on the edge of a precipice and I had to decide whether I wanted to soar high into freedom or fall into an abyss of confused life again. The seed of faith sprouted, piercing the bosom of  the earth, of my questioning rational mind.  Medical education made it more difficult, for I was used to putting everything under a microscope, to verify it's existence.

Learning to 'surrender' took years of  rising and slipping backwards repeatedly. The millstone of old beliefs hung around my neck, which further delayed my progress. Slowly miracles took place. If everything was 'His,' well then the responsibility was also 'His' of showing me the correct path. For that, a willingness and exercise of free will, in making the right choices, was necessary. The ego plays such tricks and my mind was a monkey jumping all over. The personality took a beating as old habits and patterns were difficult to break. Often, I would feel that I had lost everything in search of something I had no idea about.

   All this kept me in turmoil for quite some time, with a slow churning and resolutions to my questions, till it dawned on me that every moment is an opportunity to question one's intention behind every thought, word and deed. The inner demons that imprison us due to old limiting beliefs and self imposed captivity can be vanquished, by questioning and examining our intent.

That alone will sublimate one's thoughts towards purity and lead from captivity to freedom.

Daddy !!

Major Harbant Singh Gill

He would have been a hundred today if he had lived on. But ,the 91 years he spent on this planet were as if he wanted to pack a hundred years into every single moment of his life. My greatest hero was always my father-the best role model f
or each member of the family. A caring son to his parents, loving husband, a father who taught us by way of setting an example by his own lifestyle; whatever he did was done with 100% involvement and life paid him back a hundred fold and more.In his early twenties he was drawn towards 'Gurbani' and his daily routine of three hours of "Path" continued till his last day. Every decision and action of his was taken dedicating the result to God's will and his life's successes, both materially and spiritually are legion. The moments I enjoyed most during my childhood were when I would curl up towards his feet on cold winter mornings, snuggling into his warm quilt and fall asleep again listening to him reciting from the scriptures.
The military discipline he practised and advocated at home also, irked us as children but as adults we were grateful for it and admired his foresightedness.
Today, I thank the Almighty for being born as his daughter. I offer gratitude to my father who inculcated the values of sincere dedication in every act. The high education he provided me,and the self -confidence instilled in me and my sister by treating us as not only equal to, but at times giving us more liberty and facilities than our two brothers ,empowered us to be able to rise in a world not too favourable towards women.
I remember him on his birth anniversary with great love, admiration and gratitude.