Month: December 2016

So Long, Farewell, Adieu

The curtains are drawing close to 2016.

It has been a year of profound learnings, huge upheavals, surprises that were wonderful and not so wonderful, new beginnings, new journeys; all foisted together into a bunch memories. I’m carrying forward all those things that made me stronger, better and left me with a positive after taste. Rest I’m burying , far away from the deep recesses of my mind. Though I won’t forget to take along the precious life’s lessons that came with the turbulence. 2016 has been a medley of the bitter and sweet, the sour and the pungent. Yet, it’s been rewarding like any other year. For most of us it’s been a challenging year and we can’t wait for it to get over. The first nine months left me shaken but not stirred. The last three months have been thankfully good to me, or maybe I have chosen to turn the difficult debacles around and handle them positively. So I’m glad to sign off on a positive note.

The year started on a sombre note, with some jangling here and some jingling there. My older angel brat attended her school passing out ceremony which was a proud moment, celebrated with much fervour. She looked not just pretty, but stylish and super and then before we knew it “the boards” arrived and she had managed to score well. So much so that she got admission in one of the well know, prestigious universities. It was cause for much celebration. But  some of us in the family fought a battle with sickness, yet worked our way to emerge like the phoenix from the ashes. Alongside came a painful fallout too. But I endured all of this, sometimes faltering and sometimes bouncing back with determined spirit, to never give up, whatsoever. What took me through was the tenacious support of my family, a soul friend who stood rock solid and not to forget my Buddhist practise and comrades in faith.

In 2016 we lost some of the worlds most precious icons like David Bowie, Carrie Fisher, George Michael, Muhammad Ali, Alan Rickman, Glenn Frey, Harper Lee, Nancy Reagan, Leonard Cohen, Prince, Fidel Castro, E.R. Braithwaite, Debbie Reynolds; to name just a few. I was pretty much heartbroken when I heard about George Michael. Well, he was my teenage heart-throb, just the way he had been to so many others when we were growing up. Though I had stopped following his music for a while now, it left me and I’m sure many others with that empty feeling.

My birthday this year was really amazing, a surprise getaway, tucked in the wilderness of Gurugram. I felt pampered and joyous. We undertook some fascinating holidays too in 2016, which will stay etched in our minds forever. One to Kerela and the other in Karnataka with a drive down to Goa. Also a little getaway to Dalai Lama’s land. And my must-must-do-once-a-year trip to Bombay. I guess they were all instrumental in keeping me afloat too.

Another wonderful experience was taking the Soka Gakkai Buddhism Level 2 exam. I haven’t enjoyed studying so much as I do, when i study the Buddhist texts. Taking an exam had never been so much fun, as it was to take this one. I don’t know if I’ll pass or not, but one thing’s for sure that it imparted me some very valuable life’s lesson, which I am and will be carrying forward.

This year I also learnt that money can’t buy happiness. I was always conflicted by this thought, and I took up work, just so that I could earn those extra bucks. What really counts is doing something that makes one happy. Once this realisation dawned upon me I took to writing for myself, and writing what I enjoyed. Well. it hasn’t earned me moolah or followers but it gives me a sense of great pride to have my website and to write for myself and for people who would love to stop by. I had stopped writing for a long, long time. I felt vulnerable opening up my life to the world. But at some given point of time, I made peace with the fact and started writing. I owe it to a huge set of friends, acquaintances and family who believed in my writing and motivated me to keep writing. And yes, I also started to believing in my writings and myself too. Well. that’s the crux for most things to fall in place right.

I have always valued and loved nurturing my family but this year was a revelation of sorts. Family came first. Yes, there are some friends who will stick by, but family despite the differences will stand by you, come what may. So, I chose to dedicate my life to them, and that brought me so much closer to some very important people in my life. Again my Buddhist practise played a huge role in lending me this wisdom.

So it’s time to bid adieu to 2016, a Year of Debacles, A Year of Precious Life’s Lessons, A Year that Will Never Come Back. Yet a Year of Expansion.

I’m so ready to embrace 2017. A year when I intend to get fitter (oh! they all say so, but what the heck!) and to write a lot more and broaden my creative horizons. Also a year when I will love myself a little more, and a year when I will give more than I receive and read more than I ever have.

Bring it on 2017!

Hello 2017

When in God’s Own Country: Part 2

Kerela was proving to be more mystical, more magical than anticipated. We were enamoured by the riot of colours, the lush, verdant nature, the innumerable species of birds and insects, and the fresh crispy air that we inhaled. The DH and I love waking up early even on vacations. We feel the beauty of these pristine places can be savoured and experienced while everybody else sleeps. We love to go for our morning run or walk and unfailingly pack our workout gear.

The girls were fast asleep in their cottage. Al took off for his run while I chose to stick to my favourite activity, cycling. There were a whole bunch of cycles. I pedaled furiously around the property hoping to burn some of the calories I had gained over the last two days. But then our input outweighed the output. Well, we were on vacation so it was okay to take that leeway.

After having done with our rounds of workout, we sat at the patio and sipped into some soulful masala chai. The girls were awake by then and wanted to go pedal boating in the lake within the property. So we jumped into the boat and pedaled our way around the length and breadth of the serene, sensuous lake, where Kari meens surreptitiously swam away into unknown corners and hideouts. The morning breeze felt sublime and sweet. Once done we clamoured to the open restaurant for breakfast. A bevy of swans announced their arrival by making raucous sounds, begging for breakfast. The hotel staff gave us some bread to feed them. The little one was excited and forgot all about her breakfast and wandered around the swans feeding and cooing at them. The swans were not too friendly and when given a chance tried to peck back with guarded hostility.

Our day plans were as dreamy as the captivating land we were in. It was something we were eagerly anticipating a houseboat ride on the Vembanad lake. We arrived at the jetty well before time and our grandiose boat stood there anchored and steady. As we made our way into it, we were greeted by a lovely dine in area with a living room space with two open doors. There was an al fresco space where we could  sit and enjoy the balmy breeze and where the pilot or helmsman of the boat would be seated steering us through the huge expansive lake. There were also  two cosy bedrooms to boot.

Vembanad lake is so vast that it seems like a huge river. No wonder it is the longest lake in India. The houseboat had a chef and helper who served us our welcome drink and some munchies, while they got busy in the kitchen rustling up fresh Kerela cuisine of fish, chicken an array of vegetables. We savoured the beautiful lake and its wondrous view, as the breeze played with us coquettishly.

We passed various landmarks by the banks of the that were dotted by
the coconuts palms including an old, abandoned church which appeared eerie and haunted. We stopped by the bank to buy some toddy, the local drink which is extracted from the new buds of coconut palm. This drink is fermented and consumed and supposedly elixir to the local soul. We also stopped to buy some freshly netted tiger prawns.

Lunch was beyond sumptuous. We gorged on the various delicacies and smacked our lips in contentment when we were done. Our entire family, we realise is a fan of Malyali cuisine. The Tiger prawns were reserved for the evening snack.

Aarshia and I had another incredible experience of manoeuvering the boat, around the Vembanad lake. It was exhilarating to say the least. I felt unstoppable, as the breeze flirted with my hair and caressed my face.

Our Little Helmswoman

But then all good things have to come to an end. The sun was readying to go down and welcome the upcoming dusk and it was time to bid adieu to the Vembanad lake till the next time, whenever that would be. We docked back at the hotel jetty partially satiated to the soul and craving more adventure in God’s Own Country. Our next destination beckoned us, and the chances of visiting another more than surreal place seemed plausible and inviting.

Haunted? Abandoned?

Sepia Tinted Winters?

I abhorred winters. The idea of cold, dark, dreary, foggy days made me wince. My Bengali genes couldn’t handle the cold North Indian winters, despite having spent most of my life in this belt, along with a small stint at New Castle Upon Tyne where it snowed heavily. The onset of winters inundated a sense of melancholy. I couldn’t but wait for it to end and for the Spring and Summer to arrive.

Winters for me translated into layers of clothing. While most people would be fine with two layers on a very cold day, I would need at least 5. And to top it all a neck wrapped in a muffler or a polo neck, and ears covered with beanie, or a woollen cap; thankfully not a  monkey cap! My body clock also would shift in winters from the usual waking up time of 5 A.M. to 7 A.M. However hard I tried I could not get myself out of the warm, cosy confines of my quilt. This meant, less day hours, and giving up my early morning regime of working out. I would wriggle out of wedding invitations as I could not imagine myself wearing all the wedding finery minus any warm layers. That’s how morbid my fear was towards winters. You will be appalled to know I also backed out of a grand family reunion at Varanasi, towards November end, a few years back because I could not fathom myself being a part of that boat ride, on the Ganges, in the chilly evening. Imagine the scale of fun, laughter and bonhomie I missed out due to this irrational fear for the season, which some look forward to and cherish. Over the last few years the global warming has given way to less intense winters and slowly but surely my discomfort has abated. You will be surprised to know it has paved way for a sense of appreciation and fondness for  this season. A season that is replete with holiday cheer, celebrations, sun-kissed, sometimes sepia tinted days. I feel less maudlin, more happier.

This year has been especially different. I’m enjoying soaking in the glory of winters, as the foggy morning have been less frequent visitors. But then so far so good.

Toasting up by the sun is my favourite pass time along with an unputtownable book. The warm, golden glow of the glorious sun on my shoulder, as I sit on my bean bag punching these lines is indescribable.

The nights are replaced by a warm mug of hot chocolate, snuggled up in my warm and cosy velvety quilt. And the copious mugs of coffee during the day or the classic ginger-tulsi-honey tea. A hug in a mug, some would say.

The wide array of fresh food produce-fruits and vegetables in myriad hues and options makes food a fun experience and not to forget my favourite, healthy salads and soups for supper.

The bursting hues of Poinsettia, pansies, ice flowers, nasturtiums, marigolds, dahlias and others portend ample winter cheer.

Though I have been deprived off late of one of my favourite activities which is working out and cycling due to a back issue, I love the fact that winters allow us to work out any time of the day. It’s so much fun to go for a run even in the late afternoons or a spin on the cycle during the day.

And no I didn’t forget the distinct varieties of shoes and boots and the winter wear that add a whole new dimension to our style statement.

We are also able to grow such a variety of vegetables like rocket leaves, lettuce, kale, chard, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, celery, parsley, beet root, cabbage and so on so forth in our terrace garden, this time of the year. So it’s organic farming overload.

And have you bitten into a Chikki (Jaggery peanut candy) on a cold winter afternoon post lunch? I assure you it is bliss unlimited. Yes, sometimes it is ok to forgo the demonic thoughts about calories!

I was almost forgetting those lazy days of picnicking at the Lodhi gardens, or the nearby park. Just pack in a quick bite, grab the shades, throw in a mat and we are all set to make it a memorable day in the lap of nature. That too with our four-legged furry kids. Now that is fun unlimited really.

So, the perks of being in winter do outweigh being not. So while I’m in it, I’m going to welcome this season with open arms, and enjoy it moment by moment by moment. Who knows tomorrow might be a dark, gloomy day, but I will still be carrying that sunshine on my shoulder from today morning.

 

 

A Lesson from Nature

This morning as I walked back from pilate class I was greeted by my favourite flowers- Shiuli/Harsingaar/Night Jasmine. Each year they arrive precisely around the time autumn begins to set in and disappear with the onset of winters. So they are our fleeting guests for a month and a half. But it goes without saying that they leave an indelible mark in my heart and I look forward to their arrival with much anticipation. Many of you I’m guessing know this, from my earlier posts.I grew up welcoming the Shiuli every Pujo. Gathering them and thereafter threading garlands for Ma Durga. They not only make me nostalgic but give me a heady sense of happiness.
I could relate them to the Leonard Cohen song, “You fill up my senses.” Quite literally!
Today as I looked at them in awe like I always do, the Shiulis that lay strewn over the grass and cobbled path communicated something profound to me. Something I hadn’t imagined.
They were telling me, “We live for a short duration. We bloom in the darkness, intoxicating your senses. Next morning we fall to the grass along with the dew drops. We carpet the ground beneath us with our orange stems and pristine white petals, becoming one with nature and mankind. Sometimes people trample us by, yet we are glad that we arrived and made the best of this short-lived life, by spreading some fragrance in your lives.”
It got me thinking. Life has no guarantees and unlike the Night Jasmine we wont know when our end is near. So why don’t we just embrace and cherish each moment of life that has been bestowed upon us and continue to spread humanity and goodness?
We may be trampled and looked down upon, but continuing to live joyfully and strive ceaselessly, will make this life worthwhile.
Look inside, there is a Night Jasmine hiding within all of us.

5 October 2016

#AutumnAdvent #SpreadLoveNotWar
#GiveBackLove

 

Super Moon

When in God’s Own Country: Part 1

It was that time of the year when the sweetness of the spring was merging with the balmy summer. The board exams were done and dusted with. It was time to take off on a long cherished vacation and what better place than Kerela, God’s Own Country in South India. My dream destination for many years now.

We landed at Kochi (Cochin) well in time to head for Kumarakom, a sleepy, serene town in the backwaters of Kerela. It was a 3/4 hour car drive through the quaint little villages from the coastline of Cochin that looked a resplendent green, despite being a city. Simplicity wafted from everywhere, as we saw mundu clad men, and women adorning beautiful flowers in their nicely oiled hair, at almost every nook and corner. We stopped to pick up some local fruits and managed to get a big bunch of bananas-both the red and small yellow at an interestingly meagre price. It amazes us no end to see how reasonable these towns are compared to the cities we inhabit. There was a vendor selling a cartload of dried fish which I hadn’t seen ever since Philippines and I craned my neck out of the car window to grab its scent. We didn’t stop to buy any as the DH felt it was time we reached our dainty destination, Kumarakom.

Our hotel lay nestled by the banks of the Vembanad Lake, and we were greeted by the warm and friendly staff with garlands of shells and a welcome drink of gigantic coconuts which had the juiciest of coconut water. The coconuts were encapsulated in these jute holders, rustic and creative at the same time.

We were enchanted by the lush, fragrant beauty of the property, the ducks and swans dawdling near the artificial lake that looked as natural as one could imagine. The languorous lake was situated right in the middle of the property. Quaint cottages with lovely sit-outs, cycling tracks, nesting sites for birds, unending patches of green, huge, ancient trees and creaky wooden bridges, dotted it’s periphery. The lake abounded in talapias or kari meen. And one could sit quietly outside the cottages with a wooden fishing rod and go hook, line and sinker.

Since it was post lunch time and we were ravenous, we scrambled to the open restaurant that lay sprawled next to the lake and gorged on some lip smacking Malayali cuisine. I, of course opted for meen (fish) curry with big helpings of rice. There were prawns and other mouth-watering delicacies to choose from too.
Thereafter we walked back to our cottage to catch 42 winks. The girls were too excited and jumped into the swimming pool even before we could tell them to give it sometime post lunch. I grabbed my note pad and headed to the pool too with a mug of lemon green tea and just sat their savouring the awe-inspiring, resplendent colours of nature and the serenity the place had to offer.
Before we knew it, it was tea time and apparently from the banks of Vembanad lake we could watch the sun go down and sip on some masala tea and bite into some vadas, we were told. We headed as quickly as we could. Arusha was already there, engaging in some warm banter with the Mehendi woman who created this lovely pattern on her hand.
A surprise awaited us as the skyline turned a greyish-dark blue from the golden azure. Fruit bats, the size of a little dog flew overhead, en route their night haunt from the forest next door. There were hundreds and hundreds of them. It was a magnificent sight. We were told earlier they would come and hang around the trees of the hotel, but offlate they had moved to newer pastures. There was a little jetty, where I went and plonked myself and after a while I lay on my back, gazing at the star-spangled sky as the crescent moon appeared, lighting up not just my heart but the Vembanad lake and the surrounding flora. It was a beautiful dusk and a surreal way to end the day. But little did we know there was more in store.

As we walked back to our cottage we noticed diyas lined along the length and breadth of the lake, flickering their light into yet another young, radiant night. The crickets were busy engaging in their orchestrated symphony and we heard an owl hoot from the nearby tree. Before we knew it she was swooping overhead and caught her evening supper.

Supper, yes! We freshened up and headed for another sumptuous Malyali meal which began with a glass or two of Rosaˆ The aroma of freshly ground coconut and a medley of spices wafted from the other tables as we bit into the local papoddams. A group of demurely dressed girls from the local village, in resplendent off-white silk sarees with golden boders and vibrant blue blouses engaged in sequences of graceful dances as the musicians made magic with their tablas and instruments. We watched in rapt attention at their bright, beaming expressions and the grace, poise  and sweet demanour with which they swayed step after step, in rhythm with the music and the beatific night.

It would be an understatement if I said I slept like a baby. After all, “sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree, I travel the world and seven seas, everybody is looking for something.” Mine is calm, nature, serenity and the surreal stuff Mother nature abounds in. The stuff, quaint little places are made of…

~ Chastity Woods ~

 

Long, languorous walks by Chastity woods,
Frolicking winds and froggy hoods

Walking hand in hand,
Peering at the verdant land

Inhaling the whiff of crisp spring leaves,
Laughing about our pet peeves

Nuzzling up to a sweet banter,
Whimsical emotions stealthily saunter

Gazing at her hazel eyes,
Startled by a parakeet’s cacophonic cries

Rebuking the intruder with frivolous bamboozle,
Longing eyes that continue the carousal

Give in to the patch of green,
Regaling in our new-found love’s sheen

Chastity woods is all so pure,
Another redolent love gives into its lure

March 2005
Mumbai

Manifest Your Desires

 

Magic in Mcleod Ganj
Magic in Mcleod Ganj

 

As the curtains close to Arusha’s 18th birthday at McLeod Ganj, I reflect upon the day with a longing desire, a desire to capture it in a magic bottle. A magic memory bottle of sorts that I could re-visit and reclaim as only mine.

It’s been a whirlwind few months – changes, severed ties, revelations, mostly bitter moments; peppered with some really sweet ones, which made it easier to bear the debacles. Days of feeling helpless, but pulling through it with a tenacious spirit. And on the lop side being one with the change and embracing it with unsure but courageous thoughts. These moments would not have been possible without the support of some very dear, messiah like people who just stepped in and enveloped me with their motivating words and warm hugs.

Do you believe in magic? Do you believe in miracles? Do you believe in the power of your thoughts? Do you believe what you put out there, the universe manifests into your reality?

If not then read on and if yes, you could still go right ahead and read my little story.

A trip to Dharamshala one might assume is a short one especially when taking a flight. But believe it or not, we were caught in a massive traffic jam on our way to Mcleod Ganj and that too between Dharamshala and the latter, which in normal circumstances would take half an hour. It seemed as though the entire Punjab had descended upon this serene Tibetan settlement, also because it was the weekend.
And we thought we had left the chaotic city life and traffic jams to savour some mountain quietness.
Well, we weren’t entirely wrong!

I have long wanted to visit this Buddhist belt of India especially after I took to the Soka Gakkai practise of Buddhism. So it was a dream come true. And Arusha was also eager to be in a similar place for her eighteenth birthday, away from the maddening party scene; and we wanted to make it meaningful for her.
But little did we know that we were to be stranded in a 4 hour traffic jam. After being stuck for little more than 2 hours and whiling time watching the garrulous Punjabi uncles and youth sporting t-shirt vests and blare bhangra rap, fat aunties dawdling their way through the narrow road in a bid to walk the 5 km stretch; it struck me that chanting would probably help.
In the past Aarshia and I have chanted our way through traffic jams, seamlessly. I have chanted through massive traffic jams to reach my meetings on time in the past too. The pessimist in me began with little hope, as we could see the cars dotted back to back on the meandering hills. 15 minutes and nothing was moving still. I almost gave up when I put a goal of 4 pm for us to reach our destination.
I chanted with utter faith and determination as I didn’t want my baby girl (she would say, “not anymore!”) to spend her birthday like this. Though honestly I was enjoying this adventure. I never get impatient around jams, and I have realised acceptance is the key to staying calm at that moment. In fact jams give me time to reflect and enjoy my music!

It was over 3:30 pm and I put a goal of 4:30 pm, to reach our destination and suddenly the traffic started moving. I chanted vigorously and could feel the strong presence of Ikeda Sensie guiding me through this as he raised his fan to the “I will Sensie” song. I could hear the chorus in my head and see Sensie’s motivating smile and twinkling eyes. I have tried to establish that connect with my mentor, and its taking me longer than usual as I have had mentors like Ramkrishna Paramhans, Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev who have been my beacon of light in the past.
But I believe it is fine to have many mentors, some at various points of time in your life and one who you will connect to always. I hope it will be Sensie!
At 4:05 pm the traffic came to a jolting halt again and we could see this 1-1/2 km stretch might take us hours to get through. Aarshia suggested we walk, so all of us clamoured out of the car and started walking. It was a nice, fun walk despite the one way traffic. I continued to chant and I felt Sensie encourage me through this. The peanut and corn vendors had set up shop and were selling their stuff like hot cakes. People were even playing board games in their cars.
Our hotel, Serkong House a Buddhist abode was right at the central market. By 4:30 we were sitting in the restaurant sipping on watermelon juice and satiating our growling stomachs with some piping hot Thukpas and momos.

Such is the power of this practise of Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism and your faith. If you believe, you will always be lead to the desired outcome. The day you stop believing and challenging every obstacle, you will run out of that will to live life. Hope is what keeps us going, even when it’s just a traffic jam. When we get stuck in life’s emotional jam, all we need to do is believe in magic and hold on to it. And lo behold! Everyday will become a magic!

25th June 2016, Mcleod Ganj

~~My Will ‘O Wisp Spring~~

Oh! Spring, spring,
What shall you bring?

Wispy clouds with silver linings
Balmy breeze that seem to be dancing

A cuckoo bird flapping its wings
Melancholic hearts that sing

Riot of colours suddenly bursting
Frolicking souls giving in

A star spangled night whispering
Many a hearts entwining

Little daisies simply smiling
Yet another new beginning

 
22:40 hours
16 February 2005

Burn Baby Burn

“This is my Year! It’s going to be All Mine! This is My Year!!”
Proclaimed Lucy Van Pelt, of the Peanuts Comic strip.
And so did I!!

2015 will be my year. That’s what I kept reiterating as 2014 came to a meandering end. I heaved a sigh of relief as I bade it a hurried good bye.

Was greeted by a very wondrous beginning to the New Year with a vacation tucked in at “love you to bits, Mumbai” and “play if you must Pune” with the DH and girls. We spent glorious moments with a bunch of crazy pals who give our life that extra zing. On the 5th January morning we returned to our cosy nest. Gurgaon, the Millennium city was in the grips of the treacherous claws of a harsh winter. But we were relaxed knowing that this was time to make merry before the kids winter vacations got over. After all they usually translated into more late nights, endless soaps on TV, a movie thrown in here and a movie thrown in there, mindless banter with friends over a glass of cheer, or sitting with the family huddled in the quilt and talking endlessly as Joan Baez crooned Diamonds & Rust.
After a rather lovely date night with the better half on Friday, the next morning looked more than promising with a long-due visit planned to the in-laws in Noida. I woke up early and enjoyed the comfort of my cuppa. I was very inclined to chant but ended up calling my folks and had a long chat with them- more gratification to the soul. It was almost time to chant and connect with the mysticism of Nam Myo Ho Rengey Kyo so I went to wake the little one and Alok. My help had put the tray next to where Aarshia was lying on the bed and in a bid to save the little one I lifted the tray and lost my balance. In a fraction of second the hot tea and milk were upon me, scalding my skin as I let out a war cry. My loudest!

My leg was scalded beyond recognition, and the skin had been torn off as I pulled off my tracks. I was not only burning from the outside but also from the inside. The only thought that came to me then was how do people immolate themselves. How! How! How! It could qualify as the highest form of torture.
Arusha my 16 year old and Alok were by my side; comforting me and helping put my legs in an ice bucket. Arusha kept soothing my spirit by giving examples of the Buddha and his ignorance to pain when he meditated in the storm, in the rain and in the cold. I just felt the excruciating pain, but also blessed at that point of time. How many 16 year olds would dispense out such pearls of wisdom?

After a while we rushed to the ER at Artemis, wherein the wounds were attended to. I clung to Arusha as she comforted me, and the doctor and nurses, cleaned and bandaged my legs.

It’s been 7 days since my plans for this month changed their course. From being a month of new beginnings, new workplans and so on so forth, it’s turned out to be a month of healing and staying positive depsite the odds. The intention is not to brag, but to pat myself on the back and say, I did it and I’m going to do it. The scalded skin is healing slowly but well. I need to visit the hospital every alternate day for the dressing of my left leg, which is bandaged in such a way that it comes acrossas a cast. The leg’s not broken, neither is the soul!
I can barely walk, mostly with assistance or mostly on my own; grabbing the walls, the tables or whatever comes my way. I walk less. Period. Today is the seventh day of this debacle and I am beginning to hobble around a bit. It’s nice to get burnt in the winters. So I believe. The healing is faster, and one can sit under the quilt and sip coffee and eat, chat and listen to music, and write, and order family around for all the help.
But wait, somebody just told me that it pains a lot more in winters. So I grin and bear the pain. Though I have been gettinga bit edgy the last two days. And my family has been wonderfully patient with me. I have been able to send out the second draft of the UN, World Food Programme project. I’m glad I work from home as a writer.
Today I started worrying about the scars, on my leg. When summers come, how will I wear cropped pants and short dresses and chappals? But who knows, liberal application of coconut oil will my dull the scars in time. And the other lop side to the story is the burn just missed my Carpe diem tattoo by a whisker. Guess I should draw courage from that tattoo and remember to seize the moment and not worry about what the future will hold. The humming bird on my Carpe Diem tattoo is saying, “Cross the bridges when you come to them”. Also, so said the doctor attending to me. For now I’m counting my blessing for the abundant love and TLC that I have from friends and family. And a good set of doctors attending to my wounds.

Time to forge ahead with hope and gratitude in my heart. Amen to that!

17 January, 2015

 

my-year

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