A moment in time, a moment out of time ...

There is something so liberating about living in a new place, a place where nobody knows you. You can keep all your personal baggage aside and start afresh. And if you are lucky enough to land up in a place where people hardly bother to judge random strangers for being unexpectedly different, then you are in for a good time. You can be as frumpy or as glam or as silly as you please and nobody really cares. You can just be yourself. You can wander all over town, enjoying the solitude amidst the teeming masses. Nobody looks at you pityingly or judges you as being unsociable or unpopular or just plain old sad and lonely if you sit down alone at a roadside table with a book and a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

Don't get this wrong. Living among people I love and care for is simply brilliant. Nothing can come close to the comfort and warmth of family and friends. But when I am identified as a certain kind of person and am expected to always abide by people's perception of how I should behave and the kind of person I should be, then it becomes very difficult to be anyone else, anyone different. If I were to take the plunge and decide to ditch my career, or take up some crazy hobby or insist on solitude or just decide to change the entire pattern of my life, I may have to live with well meaning friends and family taking me aside and telling me that my life is going off track and that I should buckle up and start behaving like myself. But how can I be myself and not myself all at the same time? Whoever I am, whatever I am at the present moment is all me. It may not be the me that you know, or expect, but it is still me. In any case, I am not normally carefree enough, perhaps not courageous enough, to be that wildly crazy.

In this land, where few people know me, or know what I am supposed to be like, it is a delight to redefine myself. No, that's not true, I am not redefining myself, more like, rediscovering myself and my capabilities, my likes and dislikes. Discovering all those things I used to love... reading for myself. Reading a multitude of books together, in random order. Not just books for relaxation but books for their sheer pleasure. All at once. As the mood may strike. Wandering aimlessly about town, gazing at ancient buildings and into the endlessly blue windswept sky, imagining patterns in the various cloud forms and the fuzzy white lines of airplane exhaust crisscrossing the blue sky. Browsing through stores, window-shopping, people-watching, losing myself in the melodies of the street-musicians. Deciding that I do indeed love cooking. It relaxes me, rejuvenates me. I know that modern, liberated, independent women are often supposed to look upon cooking as a chore, forced upon them by the chauvinistic elements of society. But I love the planning of a meal, understanding a recipe, shopping for the right ingredients, and putting together a delicious, hot meal. I love the melodious blending together of spices and flavours. I love the smells, of chocolatey-gooey cupcakes and cinnamon-topped apple pies, wafting out of the oven. I love the visual treat of colourful food with different textures, creatively presented. It almost feels like a form of art therapy.

It is fun to connect with myself, as clichéd as that sounds! I miss my people. I miss the everyday traditions of families. But I am re-learning so much about myself instead. Perhaps, this is a rite of passage. Perhaps, it may not even be a question of a different place. It may just be a matter of time. Like I am on vacation from my own life. Something that everybody should go through. A time to find yourself, to lose yourself, to just be. To find out whether you are a person you can really like. A lot. Without the baggage of expectations. With all the freedom that comes from knowing that you have a loving place to go back to. A time to live for the moment, live in the moment, carefree, mukt :)

To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

Trust. The loss of trust is often the single most important stumbling block in any relationship. Isn't it important for you to be able to trust the people in your life? This means that you need to have the ability to trust and those you trust should be able to garner it and live up to it. You need to be able to trust your family, your friends, your lover, your partner, your colleagues, in one way or another. You need to be able to believe that they will not betray you or your trust and this has to be a two way street with both parties willingly involved.

Sometimes, small little lies spring up out of a desire to avoid conflict. We call them white lies and, more often than not, we do so to appease ourselves. If it is really a 'harmless' little white lie, then wouldn't it be better to just air it out in the open rather than keeping it hidden and having to cover up your tracks carefully. No matter what kind of lie, the fact that this lie is out there means that there has been a breach of trust. Plus, telling one lie to one person often means that there exists the danger of another person, who is in on your secret, spilling it out into the open. Again, trust issues. What hurts more than the fact that somebody is hiding something from you is the fact that they felt the need to do so. Loss of faith in another person is a tragic thing indeed! It brings along disillusionment, it raises doubts and strains relationships. Nothing hurts as bad as being lied to. Nothing hurts as bad as being betrayed.

Commitment to the truth, no matter how painfully difficult, and clarity of communication can often nip most problems and misunderstandings in the bud. However, we are all complex beings. In fact, the ability to lie knowingly and willingly is believed to be a very human trait. Some people are habitual lie-tellers. They tell the most fantastic lies cheerfully, without flinching and without remorse. Then there are others who fidget, sweat, get nervous while concocting even the simplest of lies. Remember Joey who can't lie and his racoon-tales? I understand that life is not really about black and white, there exist myriad shades of grey in between. As has been said, this world is a mirage, "Maya", all a lie within a lie within a lie, ad infinitum, and the purpose of human life is to try and decipher the truth hidden within. How about owning up today to one lie you have told or lived? Try it and you shall love how much lighter and happier you shall feel :)

The girl who reads :)

My sister, Rhuta, writes, and writes beautifully, at that. So here goes, a post from her ...

I love to read. I used to try to not let that define me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be known as ‘the girl with the book’. Surely there was more to me than that. But as the years passed, it struck me - what better description could there possibly be? Books are, in a word, magical - even when they’re not about magic. That girl with her nose buried in the book, she can never be one dimensional. There are so many aspects to her character, so much depth, so many things about her that you can only guess at. You might think she doesn’t have a life, you do not know how many she actually does! On the outside she may seem dull, boring, bookish - so to speak. Look a little closer and you might see that slight smile playing on her lips. Don’t you want to know what caused it? The secret is in those pages. Join her in them. Pick up a book! If you don’t have one handy, ask her if she has another. She usually will.

I am not defending myself, I’m trying to explain. Yes, I am the girl with the book. I’m trying to convey just how amazing it is to be that girl. I’m telling you why I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. It’s not because I can’t imagine being anyone else. Oh no! I have lived as so many characters in so many worlds that I can imagine being almost anyone. What I want is for you to experience what I have experienced, to share in the magic that these pages hold. I want your life to be enchanted, the way mine has been so far. I want you to at least give it a try.

If you ask me to pick between books past and books future, I don’t think I possibly could. There’s so much more to read and discover. So much joy to find! And at the same time there are all those stories in my past. Those books are my friends, they made me who I am today. I need the books I’ve read so far and all of those I shall read in the years to come. I relish the thought of coming across all those as yet unknown treasures. Unknown in the sense I know they exist but where and in what form, only time will tell.

The thing about books is they’re always there, waiting for you. I’m never lonely, even when I’m alone because I have them with me, always. If not in physical form, they’re there in my head. They’re a refuge, an escape, a haven. Nothing can compare to the comfort of curling up with a good book. It’s the simplest pleasure you can ever receive, and in my experience, the best. But don’t let me be the one telling you, come find out for yourself. Choose a book. Read.

It’s never too late to read a book. They don’t recognize age limits. Oh, you missed out on Winnie the Pooh? No harm done, pick up a copy now and you can casually walk into the Hundred Acre Woods. You see that door? It’s magical, it never closes. Anytime you feel like it, they’re there waiting for you, tireless and uncomplaining. They have so much to offer, give them a chance. Learn to love books and let them love you. As they have loved me for all these years. Make them a part of your world and they’ll make you a part of theirs. Embrace the joy of reading and no matter where you go, you will always be at home.

--- Rhuta Deobagkar

Fleeting happiness...

Is happiness the same as peace? Is it the heart-felt desire to stay right where you are, forever? Is it in being motionless or in being restless? Forever wanting to be someplace else. Is it in the exploration of places new and dangerously exciting? Sometimes I have felt, it is as simple as just coming home, being with the familiar. But then, the unknown and the surprising has meant joy too. A comfortably warm hug, a quick peck on the cheek, sometimes just a glimpse or a whisper is all it takes. A mother's unspoken happiness at having her kids home and safe and laughing. It brims in her eyes... perhaps you mistakenly think it is a tear. It is in shaking your dad's hand and smiling gently at his gruffly firm handshake and awkward hug. It is in discovering families and finding yourself within them. Shades of you, traces of you. It is in traveling together. Or sometimes just traveling alone, yet to the same place. It can stem from something small like a snatched conversation with some random stranger or the knowledge that it is really about a lifetime together. Scary. It is about growing old. About counting your (few! hah!) white hair and being thrilled that you have one less than him. Hehe! 

Am I always happy? I don't think so. But I know that there is so much that makes me happy. It is a good life when you know that you are always just a moment away from happiness. That you are thrilled to be happy, even for just a moment. It comes and goes. Ever changing. Yet never ending. I am loving it :)