I wonder...

The other day, I saw a movie on T.V- “Married to a stranger”- the heroine loses her memory totally after an accident. She can’t remember her husband, daughter, and mother. She is unable to feel any emotion for them. She is totally lost without a clue about the person she was- she feels sorry for them like a third person, but can’t bring herself to feel anything for them. She feels like a stranger in the house that used to be her home- nothing seems familiar- she wants to get away from their expectations and hopes. She wants to chart out a life afresh like on an empty slate- she begins to feel affection for the counselor who has been helping her out.

The husband is devastated, and finds it difficult to come to terms with the stranger that his wife seems to have become. He keeps thinking that her memory would return in the next moment- he finds that his wife has no longer the same likes and dislikes or passions. It’s like a whole new person only the face and body is the same.

So that got me thinking. Are we only our memories? Memories formed along the years thru experiences, circumstances- and conditioning? Without these we’re empty- a totally different kind of person?
Do we grow/learn to like/love somebody based on our conditioning- are we predisposed to certain behavioural traits according to values instilled in us? And so minus these factors we might never like/love the same person? Or does our affection/affinities sustain in spite of these variables? If yes, then is it what we call Karmic bonding? I have no clue…still I wonder…

Then there was this other movie: “Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind”- where there is this organization which undertakes to help a client to erase memories pertaining to a selected individual- the client is expected to provide all the memorabilia connected with the selected person.

So the heroine here decides to delete memories of the hero- and goes ahead and gets it done. The hero on coming to know of this is hurt and angered- and so he also decides to erase all memories of the heroine from his mind. And as he is lying unconscious while the procedure is going on, in his subconscious level, he realises that he doesn’t want to erase memories of her after all- as painful, bitter memories get deleted, he wants to cling to the sweet, poignant memories- he doesn’t want to let go of the beautiful moments- but he’s unable to stop the process- its like being on a speeding roller coaster that cannot be stopped. He is frantic trying to rescue the losing memories from getting erased forever…

And when the heroine is forming new relationships, he feels like the intruder is usurping his memories and identity. In an attempt to rescue the precious memories he tries to insert them into nooks and crevices of his memory where she did not belong- i.e.: in the time before she came into his life- his childhood.

The hero and heroine get attracted to each other in spite of the absence of their memories of their past together. In both movies, the heroines are worried if they’d be able to sustain their relationship in the wake of bad times, when the bitter memories resurface- but they choose to go ahead and forge their bond all over again.

So in the absence of the worldly/ mortal/ physical constants- i.e.: the memories based on our individual experiences and conditioning, what is it that paves the way for two individuals to bond, that unknown factor that guides them towards an affinity for each other- is that what we call Karma/ Destiny/Fate??? Is it about working out of certain Karmic debts? And if one had the option to select and delete unpleasant memories, enhance the good memories, then would the quality of relationships improve?

I’ve no clue- still I wonder…

Am I?

Your Blogging Type Is Thoughtful and Considerate

You're a well liked, though underrated, blogger.You have a heart of gold, and are likely to blog for a cause.You're a peaceful blogger - no drama for you!A good listener and friend, you tend to leave thoughtful comments for others.

What's" Your Blogging Personality?

Something lost, Something missing

Something lost, Something missing

Tagged again!

Ceekay has tagged me- and I’m eager to do it- she has tagged me becos she says she wants to know me better- and somehow that makes me feel good!

From the moment I read her post, my thoughts have been in a clamor- so many thoughts romping about in such a hurry- some so totally unrelated- and each falling over the other, that I really have to sit down, catch hold of each one- and try to sort them out in some cohesive order- so here you are:

I’m thinking about:

What all to write in my tag- whom all to tag- who might respond and who might not- usually I do not tag anybody else, but this time I think I shall- because like CK said I’d like to know something more about some of the other bloggers whose posts I regularly read-

I’m thinking about my DH’s trip to B’lore today- I don’t like it when he’s to go out of station- even if it is only for 2 days- I miss him too much and I’m not at ease until he returns.

I said:

Right now- nothing- it’s just me and my thoughts. My younger son who is having a holiday today becos its Aadi amaavaasi- came to me some time ago and got me to do some kind of game- he gave me folded piece of chit- forbidding me to open it until he told me to- then he went thru a series of steps with me abt thinking a few numbers- which he got me to reduce one by one and finally when he asked me to open the chit- it contained the number which I was left with. I was surprised- and he did explain to me how he did it- but I understood nothing-

I want to:

Plenty of things- I’ve begun learning Bharatanatyam again- after a gap of 16 years- and I want to graduate from the adavu (steps) level and dance to certain songs that I’ve in mind.
I want to write and publish something spectacular someday….

I wish:
It was Thursday morning- when DH would be back from his B’lore trip.

I hear:

Sounds from the T.V in the hall- looks like my son has stopped playing- and has now settled down in front of the T.V.
I can hear the hum of the fan and the p.c. I’m straining to see if I can hear anymore sounds- but no- nothing else- our home is very near the railway track- and sometimes when a train comes hurtling down- I can feel the vibrations-

I wonder:
How I’d look with my dance make up- I never liked how I looked when I was young, and now that I’m older, I expect I’d look even worse…

I regret:
Not having joined Dance classes earlier.
Not having enrolled for M.A. I’ll do that next year.

I am:
Lazy, stubborn, loving, affectionate, possessive, short tempered, moody, temperamental, jovial- yup a confused bundle of contradictions-

I dance:
Everyday- I’m passionate abt dance- I would like to do the “gujrati garba” some day- I love the grace, the rhythm-

I sing:
Most of the time- ancient Lata hits- (e.g.: mohe bhool gaye saawariyaan, ehsaan tera hoga mujhpar, nagari nagari dwaare, tu jahaan jahaan chalega mera saaya, tum na jaane kis jahaan mein kho gaye)
However, now my sons have begun singing: woh lamhe, woh baatein- koi na jaane, suttum vizhi chudare, eh meri, meri zohrajabeen, ek mein aur ek tu hai, jiya dhadak dhadak and they silence me with their fervor and volume.

I cry:
too easily :- ( I’ve been told that I’ve invisible leaky tanks fixed to my eyelids- I really, really wish I could regulate my sobs sniffles and tears- they’re most unruly and unmanageable.

I’m not always:
Lazy. I can be bitten by the ‘hardworking’ bug once in a blue moon, when the white crow flies upside down…ok, I’m not that baad- I’m ok-

I make with my hands:

Edible food, though I don’t get all excited abt the kitchen, kitchen tools, vegetables and other stuff there.
I can do a bit of tailoring – tho only for myself- with paper cuttings-
A bit of embroidery, a bit of pencil sketching…

I write:
In my diary before typing in my pc. If I try typing my thoughts directly on to the pc, I’ve this lil picture inside my mind of these few bloggers who might find their way into my posts and then this picture kind of tends to distort the translation of my thoughts into words, and so I’ve to pretend that nobody is ever going to read my thoughts, and this is easier when I write with the good old pen in my good old diary-

I confuse:
I’m confused abt several things- mostly abt the discrepancies between what people say, seem and behave- but I’m learning to let go- and not try to analyse or make judgments.


I need:
Books, lots of books. I’ve this loooong list of book that I want to read- but am not able to get hold of them.
I need to get my music system and sewing machine repaired.
I need my parents to be healthy and cheerful always.
I need to see my brother now and then- talk with him- but he’s sooo far away…
I need to be with myself for sometime everyday…

And finally:

I’ve finished doing this tag- and my thoughts have become a bit disciplined- and there is relative calm in my mind- and now whom shall I tag- I’m supposed to tag 5 people, but I’m going to tag 9 people- because I’d like to read what they come up with, that is if they choose to do it.

Arundhati

Wbix

Usha

Priyam

Sharanya

Divya

Punds

Boo

Jeya

Groping with Reality?

Truth, Reality/ Illusions/delusions- Maya, mirage, horizon- these concepts have been haunting me of late- everything seems so relative- one cannot be sure-

The Mumbai blasts- when I first heard of it, my first reaction was utter dismay, which was soon replaced by panic when I remembered that my 3 cousin sisters, their husbands- all of them traveled by train daily- to and fro from work- I frantically tried to reach them but all phone lines were jammed. I finally managed to contact one of them who assured me that all of them were safe. And then I found the respite to think of all the others who were still in the throes of anxiety and fear for their loved ones. Now my emotion was anger, helpless rage- which found expression in a wave of tears- my younger son who had been watching me all this while kept mumbling: “amme, don’t cry- mema and cheriamma are all safe”. But the tears and sobs did not subside-

I visited the site “Mumbai help” and was amazed at the gesture- faceless strangers- helping other faceless strangers- it was awesome- I’ve no words…

Today after ten days after the incident- Mumbai is “normal” (!!!???) people have expressed their grit, courage, anger, grief, angst, solidarity in several ways- blogging being one of them too- blogspot was banned- and now that has also been cleared- everything is back to ‘normal’.

And I’m wondering about meanings of some words- Truth- Reality-
The understanding of the reality of that one day, the differences in perspectives- how the event has changed different people:

The reality to those who lost their loved one/ones that day- their loss, bereavement- for them it is a singular event- they have to cope with the day to day absence of somebody important in their daily existence…somebody who just stopped coming home one day!

The reality of those in Mumbai who have survived- they’re safe, they’ve resumed life- they are traveling once again in trains- the daily routine- grind-

The reality to those whose loved ones escaped narrowly due to some quirk of Fate/Destiny- they came close to a devastating loss- and managed to escape and survive-

The reality to those like me- who are geographically far away- who have not suffered any direct ‘loss’, and yet watching the aftermath on T.V – the blood- the panic- the sorrow- the pain- of others- whom one doesn’t even know- for us the event is in multitude- we can see it only as a mass rampage- it is scary- its terrifying- its numbing…

The reality to the perpetrators- they, who planned, executed, waited and watched the consequences- their reaction? Are they happy? Satisfied with a deed well accomplished?

Which is the Truth? Reality?

Rude memories...

I was catching up with Shankari’s blogs and reading one of her earlier blogs, in which she mentions that as a child she used to collect pieces of all kinds of random things from the neighbourhood; sent me pummeling down memory lane.

I too was fond of collecting little colored stones, tiles, pebbles as a child. And yes, I also loved wearing an assortment of trinkets, those days- I loved glass bangles, paayal/ anklets, pattu paavaadai . Looking back, I guess I must’ve looked quite a sight when I first joined college in Kerala after schooling in the Middle East. In Dubai, I think nobody really noticed how one dressed- at least they never commented, and so there I was totally ignorant of what a picture I must’ve looked then.

I used to wear these frock type midis- with frills and bows, red velvet slippers with embroidery , I had long hair which I plaited on either sides, wore these huge jingly jangly earrings, and a few hair fell in tendrils on either cheeks – a la shobhana from her “kanaamarayathu” days. To add to the effect I wore Kajal on my eyes- trailing like actresses from the 60’s , and not to forget matching glass bangles…I shudder as I type these words and wont be surprised if the reader shudders too as they read these lines. Still, let me venture to say that I did not perhaps look as ghastly as the image that these words tend to evoke in the reader’s mind.

However within a year of my hostel life, my friends succeeded in sobering me down with their affectionate teasing. I stopped lengthening the kajal beyond my eyes, pushed the stray tendrils of hair behind my ears until they grew to the length of the rest of my mane, abandoned my red velvet slippers and stopped wearing glass bangles- I still have my payal tho- but they remain unonbtrusive…

Gentle Awakening

They were 4 people, a husband, wife, son and daughter. They stood at my door step smiling- they told me that they had come to meet me- I was totally perplexed, becos I was sure I was seeing them for the first time. I ushered them inside and asked them to sit. All the while I was furiously trying to jog my memory cells trying to place them- perhaps they were friends of somebody whom we knew- and had come to meet us upon their request. They introduced themselves- told me their names- they had come all the way from England to meet me!

As I was trying to digest what ever they told me wondering what they wanted, what they expected- they assured me, that they expected nothing- they simply and plainly just wanted to meet me- talk to me- that they were members of a group ( Swaadhyaay) and they undertook to meet people and spread the message that God was not an external entity- he was dwelling within each one of us- and if we remembered that and behaved accordingly the world would be a wonderful place. They told me that they were inspired to do this by a philosopher ( Pandurang Shastri Athavale) who refused to be called a Guru- and whom they affectionately called “Dadaji”- meaning “elder brother” in Marathi.

They further informed me that they were about thousands of them who were at the very same moment visiting several homes and spreading the same message- as a tribute to their Dadaji as well as sharing their belief in Universal Divine Brotherhood. They expressed that there was no need to perform rituals, unless of course that gave an individual satisfaction0 that all one had to remember was to be aware, recognize and respond to the innate beckoning of our nature- that is to love all and everything. A nature that we were tending to neglect, forget in the daily business of Life. All perhaps that may be done was remember to thank that Divine Consciousness or Force within us – for being the driving force of our lives- and helping, guiding and protecting us in the course of our Daily Lives.

They politely declined offers of even tea/coffee- clarified that they expected no donations, no canvassing, persuasion- they undertook all expenses from their personal income- and all the group members were unified in this thought and concept wholeheartedly!

What amazed me was that these people set out on their endeavor with so much of sincerity, cheer and faith- all the way from another part of the world- with absolutely zero expectations, fully aware of the skepticism that they were likely to encounter- simply because they believed in it, and felt that they owed it to the Society to spread this message- whether their listeners agreed, accepted or not was not in their hands. They were so affectionate and genuine that most of us felt ourselves drawn to them in spite of our selves. Simply because they were so transparent and genuine in their mission- and there was so much of cheer and warmth among them.

Irrespective of whether we were able to imbibe or chose to spread the same message – we (my family and I) felt so touched and grateful for such people- that they undertook such an endeavor wholeheartedly with so much of sincerity and joy was admirable. They made us feel so much happier, contented- about feeling affection- about expressing affection -