Tuesday, November 07, 2006


The Meditative Mind said:

sis and her hubby left to london late in the night. it was still raining. seeing them off, we came back. was sick for forty hours or so. unusually, went to bed before the deepest of darkness creeped all over the house around that midnight every day.

was woken up by a voice from the room. ``come in,'' said the loving one. ``the little one wants to talk to you.'' i merely went in and switched on the lights. the little one was not looking at me. the loving one went out. she switched off the lights as she came back with a cake. ``happy birthday, bava'', said she (bava in telugu means hubby). it was another birthday.

i have no memories of me celebrating my b'days. i did not even cut the cake. but sliced a piece of cream and gave it to the loving one. the little one will not wish me, though. they wanted to light the candle that will light the entire house. ``i am going to sleep,'' i said and slept.

stupid and insensitive, i should admit. poor girls. they looked patehtic. they love me so much. yet i cant give them the way they want love. light a candle, blow a few kisses, talk to them of a future, full of comfort and a horizon beyond that. but am i not an utopian rooted to reality.

throughout the next day, i received a very few calls and was left pondering all day if people have forgotten me and my age. the little girl will not wish me even now. ``only if you cut the cake,'' she kept repeating. i was not for it. for i wanted her not to eat it. she just has come out of another boot of asthma. i willingly played the villain card. she never minds except for that moment.

it occured to me that i was half-way through. i am not sure if i will live to see the thousandth moon, the finest moment in one's life as rkn wrote in the uncle's diary, a short story. taking into record the health registers of my ancestors, i have come to the conclusion, that if not tripped in an accident, i could live at least this long. and am half-way.

it has not been quite a life. it has been a quiet life. basically below the blue skies and green ghats in childhood. by the riverside in college. by a hillside in university. by the beach while working.

like any other life, my life has had its moments of glory and pain. of sufferings and happiness. of agony and joy. of treachery and tranquility. madness and genius. emptiness and thoughtfulness. victorious against total failures. of greatness and utter stupidity. i have lived it all. there can be any number of opposites added to this list.

there are two words i like most. love and compassion. i think i have not lived a life of hatred. half-way through. i am sure i will not live a life of hatred ever. even if i am born again, and again, a million times.

never with a heart of hatred but will full of love. all encompassing love. have you ever heard the great one say, ``Open your heart and love the whole world.'' that, i suppose, is compassion. can there be any great feeling other than that for a human?

i am human. those words of a disillusioned pilot in razor's edge is still there in me. ``i wish to be born human a thousand times. it doesn't matter where i am born or to whom i am born. i want to be born human. life is to live (and love).''

As an after-thought, I thought, if i should have mentioned about two more words. sex and seduction. Oh! that is another part of a life. the unconquered sense. i read a lunatic-looking poet write, ``the one who steps beyond *kama* (lust) and *kanneer* (tears) is on his way to enlightenment''.

half-way through, i think the tears have dried up. i feel it to be a wasteful exercise. lust. it still lingers on. on contemplation, it looks it can be easily crossed. is not life wonderful? ah! it really is. yet i wonder why i am still a stranger to myself!

it reminds me of two more words. self and soul.

thinking 'em, i mayn't sleep even after a million births.

this life, i have to be content with two other words.

self-less and soul-ful.


Kristi Maxwell said...

I'm glad yr writing.

avronea said...

update no?

avronea said...

you don't write the blasted series. you don't update blog? what you doing? :-P

btw, maybe you should leave a link on your orkut page if ya want more traffic.

Stories From The Soul Town

There lies a magical land. Surrounded by the green ghats to the west, gurgling great rivers on the east, the valley with the very blue sky. A temple town of the tamils. Sitting on the dancing rock on the highland overlooking the valley, the writer procreates the lives of the people of this lesser known south west. Full of strange yet simple souls.