SOULspace

Floods are natural and have happened and are happening in other parts of the world. This particular flood in Tamilnadu and especially the one which has hit my home city of Chennai and neighbouring locales may have happened due to many man-made or natural reasons...what we can now see is only destruction and desolation, lives lost, families separated, livelihood annihilated and people having to reinvent themselves all over again. What stories can we tell people in Crisis? What stories do we tell when children face a Crisis? But before we Tell...we need to Listen...and listen deeply. Listen to the pain and anguish Listen to the fear and frustration Listen to the confusion and uncertainity Listen to the disappointment, sadness, yearning. Listen to the guilt and blame Listen the anger and irritation Listen to the rage and fury Listen.... Then... tell them Stories... for yesterdays sorrow is today's story and tomorrow's sorrow is a future story.. I found a...

Looking for a story to fit into the theme of 'Change' I came upon Mullah ' s stories. The last line is such a clincher for me. Do we really know who we are or is the soul clothed by a story called Personality...ahhh..this makes so much sense to me!! Read on: Who Is Who There is a beautiful story about Mulla Nasruddin: He had gone for a pilgrimage to Kabba, the Mohammedan holy land. And there were millions of pilgrims – because it is expected by the Mohammedan scriptures that every Mohammedan, at least once in his life, must go to Kabba; otherwise he is not considered to be a real Mohammedan. So even the poorest Mohammedan sell their houses, sell their ornaments, their land, everything, because at least once in their life they have to go to Kabba. So every year there is a great gathering. All caravansaries are full, all hotels are full. Nowhere was there any vacancy, and Mulla was very tired. He clung to the feet of the manager of a hotel and he said, ...

Yaaaaaay! I yelled a sound that came from the bowels of my stomach. But on that rainy day walking back from the school, I could only feel frustration and helplessness of knowing that a stranger had grabbed my breasts and had deliberately violated my personal space and my sense of self. I was helpless and still feel deeply affected by what happened that day. My breasts you see grew faster than I would have liked them to and by the time I was 11years old, I had sizable ones as compared to my friends. I was the only girl in my gang with a bloated chest and hairy underarms who struggled to hide it in my swimming costume, while all my gang happily splashed about, chest less and hairless! Buying the correct Bra was another nightmare. My mother with her sense of fashion insisted on cotton and cheap. I could not come out of that for a long time; and even now I still struggle with it. I drool over all the fancy Bras that have come in the market, but cannot get myself to buy them! ...

Feeling Helpless comes easily to me. I am the one standing in front of the ATM machine, frustrated and actually thinking the ATM hates me, because every time I swipe the card, it says…not recognized, insert again!  It’s like a default feeling… There was this time in high school. Its pouring in Chennai, one of those rare events that would make us all run indoors, instead of running out and enjoying it...typical madrasi, (It was still Madras to me, and the jobless Politicians had not yet gone on their name changing frenzy) …and I was returning from school...I could barely see…and had removed my glasses…so partially blind…drenched…walking from the bus stop to my home….I felt a painful grab….yayaaay…I yelled at this guy who had the gall to grab my breasts and just move on…while I stood petrified and helpless…my stomach churning with disgust and revulsion…I turned and walked back home…somehow feeling as if it was my fault… My breasts you see grew faster than I would ha...