SOULspace

(So if you did not catch the previous post, do check it out as this is the sequel!) Going on a vacation was not defined the way it is nowadays. My dad being a business man, taking off was a rarity. He kept travelling, so all he (probably!) wanted to do was pack us all off so that my mum would get some respite!. Packing us off meant that we headed either to Bombay ( yes i'd rather say that, as I have visited Bombay but never seen Mumbai!!), where his sister and youngest brother lived along with my grandparents. Or to Hyderabad where his other brother lived. But the crucial factor was where my grandparents were positioned at that time...they were the quintessential parents, moving from one offsprings house to another, depending on where their services were needed, but predominantly using their elder son's place(my dad's) in Chennai as their base camp. Travelling always excited me, it still does, and it probably goes back to those magical days. Train was the obvious mod

Our vacation is coming to an end. Lazy mornings spent rolling in bed with cousins. Half the day is done for the other members. Fathers have gone to work (poor dears, have no vacation like we do, isnt it?). Mothers insisting that it is time to wake up. "C'mon, holidays doesn't mean you can sleep forever.Get up and brush your teeth. When will you have breakfast? At 11.00 O'clock? "Please ma/chithi(aunty), dont open that curtain, just 5 minutes more." Then when you come back, you find one reading a book (yes without brushing!), another hanging upside down from the bed playing with a toy, and a third with the sheet pulled right over, trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep!! The lazy morning stretches into a lazy day. Late breakfast, a leisurely lunch interspersed with play, books,and T.V, and then more play, books and T.V! This sounds familiar? Well that's how we have spent the last 3 weeks. I was the chief bugle blower and entertainer.

Catching up with old friends is like drinking wine. Not that I am a connoisseur of any sort, nor do I know even know the ABCD of it (literally translated from Tamil!!). Merely based on heresay and the little I watch of cookery programmes and of course books. To me catching up with old friends is like drinking wine! The timing needs to be perfect. School friends, are of course easier to catch up with, now with Facebook, and Orkut. But just like wine needs to rest on the shelf to gain flavour so also these friends from the past need to be left alone, for some years! Once in a while you need to rotate the wine (I am told ), so once in a while you could check on them. How they fare, how life has taken them, just a looking into, a dip into the flavours we can say. Then comes the right moment, a good numbers of years after you have left the wine to mature, to take it off the shelf, to savour its sweet, tangy, buzz! Now you catch up with your friend, savour the glorious past, taste t

Thats why I feel every morning I wake upto paradise. Hey, that sounds wonderful for the opening lines of a song! That's the view from my sister's apartment balcony. I cherish the morning sunrise, a view that I will not get when I leave here. To wake up with the sun in its full glory reflected on pristine waters, with man and his machines dotting the seashore. An amalgamation of all that is life. The beauty of nature and the toils of man in his pursuit of a living. Every morning is a time to thank Him for all that I have and a time to reflect on how important are the things that I feel I dont have!! As water meets the sky, I feel the infinitism of space and the minuteness of my life in this space. Daily hassles worry us no end, yet when we share this moment of peace or solitude with nature, we can feel the answering call. Sometimes the moments of happiness are lost in the deluge of sadness. But just as the wave happens, to recede and return, every wave in our

Childhood spent in fantasy, Filling tiny cups of memories. Of early mornings and agarbathi, And jasmine plucked from the bushes. Strung by deft fingers into garlands, For the lord and the servant. Kindly neighbours adored the lass, Feeding and clothing The little princess as if their own. They grew her in a world of their own. Crisp starched sarees ironed to perfection Training school stories and rare independence. A world away from the poverty That haunted the other siblings. Marriage promised a change From a burdened living, But alas little do we know How time does decieve us. Orthodoxy and tradition crippled her soul As she struggled to balance A life with four children And an indecisive workoholic. Where is the Man? What is there in this for me? No answers there, as she absorbed herself Consumed herself with rearing. Bitterness and recrimination Remorse and despair Negativity and anger Hardened her core Children reared on simmering anger Each

  I have made many comments on Roles we play. Every individual in his lifetime plays many roles ... and so on and so forth.... But have you ever heard the Scripts? Have you heard yourself at any time? Actually Heard yourself as you repeat statements that have been fed to you over time. Stuffed inside your head, forcing you to say them at the appropriate time. "do your duty" "try and satisfy them/their(others) needs " "obey your elders" "dont speak when elders are speaking" "dont talk back " I am sure there are many many more such statements that we spew forth in our effort to correct and educate. These are scripts that we have heard and we store in ourselves and that we automatically use in a situation that is deemed appropriate. Every role has a script and this is my crib for today. Why do we use these words and patterns of expression? Individuals need to break free from such confining words and attitudes. Roles r

'Finally, what matters is the story, not the teller." A storyteller feels the pang!! How can Devdutt Pattanaik finish the story with such a disputable statement is what I thought? Is he justified in saying this? I am biased when I say this, but every story is in the tellers skill as he weaves his magic around the warp and the weft of his story. Truly magic has been created in this book by Devadutt Pattanaik which has been illustrated by Nancy Raj. How it came home? Tulika Books happily sent  free books to all those who had participated in their very first blogathon. It arrived when we were just leaving Kanpur for our annual vacation to Chennai. So it got packed in. But somehow  in between the packing and the leaving, it got unpacked, and I found my daughter reading it! The Verdict After the routine million questions on where this book had come from and why, my daughter decided to review it for me "Amma I will read the book and tell you the story first.&qu