The name of the first one was Sikander. I think he was the smallest cat I’d ever seen. I used to have a picture of him, when he was smaller than my foot!
My love for cats was discovered at Anna’s house with Ashley… she used to curl up in my feet below that table as I worked endlessly and aimlessly into those lonely Canadian nights. I think she saw me cry all of my tears as Dumbledore died… and many a night I’d wake up to see her sitting by my side watching me. She’d move between my feet, round and round and round, and show her impatience as I’d go to give her food, not realizing for a second, that she wasn’t letting me walk at all… how am I to get to her food if she wouldn’t let me get to it?
I used to wonder as she looked out of the window… beautiful majestic cat, she’d just sit on that sofa and stare endlessly at all those townhouses… line after line after line… almost with longing I felt at times… but then she’d just get up and walk carelessly away…
Sikender was a blessing in a million ways, we all knew that… and when he died, at least I couldn’t enter that house for a while… I was too scared to face the fact that I wouldn’t see him anymore… These fears are mostly unconscious; all that you know is that you can’t get yourself to go to that house…
I will not even go into what the ‘As’ went through…
So a couple of days ago when I heard that Sitara was no more… I called A and asked what and what but... I didn’t know what to say…what is to be said? There is nothing beyond the realisation that you cannot bring someone back… and then… today, Sitara came back, wounded, injured, but she found her way back… it took her ten days… God knows what she went through, but she knew home and she knew love and she knew everything that’s worth knowing and she came back… what I heard in A’s voice today is something I have never heard there before, not this way… it’s that damn stupid emotion called love that we keep freaking about… in its purest form, where it makes you believe and where there is no difference between laughing and crying…
M comments, “knowing how to belong is such an important intelligence!”
I agree.
Sometimes I feel, I have become intolerant of people, at others I feel there is a limit to how much you can suffer fools, and limits to how much you can suffer per say!
Sometimes you just give up… when I had loved last, in 2006, and lost… I gave up… I mean I kept fighting all the pain as long as I could and then I remember the moment when I just said, “Ok, this is what it is? Ok. Let it come. Let the career go to hell, if I have to sit and weep 24 hours a day, I will. Let it come.” And it did come… the tears, the pain; to such intensity that I hope I never have to go through it again…
Taught me a million things, taught me I could really love… also taught me (once again) that love is not enough… it is not even enough at times to take away the pain of the person you love the most… and love is definitely not enough to make someone love you the way you love them… I have to admit, despite all the tiredness, I feel braver… I also feel now, I know a little…you can’t deny the learning and you can’t - not be thankful for it, (though I know enough people who just keep the bitterness of the experiences with them - if only they let themselves loose, not worry so much about hurt, let it happen, live it, let it teach, let it grow and mature, let it live, let themselves live, it’d be easier and the world wouldn’t be as bad… but to each, his own path, I guess!). This post though is not about these lessons. It’s about knowing belonging.
I have a treasure, and I know a lot of people don’t, and if I am thankful for anything in the world, it’s this treasure… anyone who has met my parents will agree that they are quite a treasure… somehow with them, I know I can always come back… somehow I know they don’t really have to hold me to hold me…
So, I belong to them…
And then there are friends, someone had asked me why I cherish little things, it’s called “counting your blessings”… it makes you a happier, warmer person; it gives you patience and faith. I cherish every friend who has bothered to ask how I was and done his/her bit to pull me up a bit, everyone who came back despite my somewhat unfair outbursts at times and I will not sit and nit-pick on who was right or wrong and what was said or not and what lay as under-lying causes in all that happened. I will not sit and judge my opinions on their deeds and my differences with them. All I choose to see is the love that is shared, that makes them be there and makes me be there… because if I don’t see this and even if I see, every other thing, I haven’t really seen… friends are precious people, you cannot tell them this often enough, we keep forgetting to tell people how special they are, it’s not fair really, no one tells anyone such things, everyone is busy giving out advice and knowledge, and taking people for granted (all of which is good and nice and all that) but who cares to take out time and say… ‘You mean hell of a lot to me’?
So friends, yes I belong to friends and I feel suffocated when someone tells me that I can’t! That I am too involved, too trusting, will get hurt and all of that, these well-meaning people somehow never see the larger picture… hurt is a silly thing to be scared about… and associations, warmth, conversations are beautiful and enriching, as are people… yes, I belong.
And then comes the one belonging that fills all those pours… finds meaning and purpose and all that… a friend in Canada had once told me that in relationships, one person always loves more than the other…this may be true except… that the person who loves less, doesn’t “love” at all! To love is to surrender your guard, and only in that can you find true freedom and fearlessness. It does not mean a surrender of wishes and it does not imply an inability to fight, it says, I will fight you fair and square, I have no weapons hidden to protect me, and neither do you and it says, we will irrespective of who wins and we lose irrespective of who loses and we will make sure that we are sensitive to the celebration of the winning and the pain of the loss. It says that even if everything is about me, my love, I am about you.
The love of my life was telling me that they’d fallen in love with someone else and didn’t love me anymore. That we couldn’t be together and that I must go… and then suddenly, a hug and a question, innocent, selfish but helpless… “But I will always remain your baby, wont I?” I remember that “yes”. It took a lot out of me and it gave me a lot. I am sure enough people go through intense moments… I choose to remember this one because I knew I had loved, like I had never loved and I had broken like I’d never been broken…
So there is all the learning and defences and practicality and rationalisation, but I hope, I can love again… that I, and my other, are intelligent enough to ‘belong’!
I have always felt this. The spirit is never dead.
Look around you on a defeated day and you’ll be surprised to see how people go on, living, fighting and living… emotionally, financially, spiritually, every which way…
My sister, who is a clinical hypnotherapist, is a great believer in past lives and karma and evil associations… she is unfortunately, not a believer in miracles… she seeks proof….
Sitara came back. Isn’t that proof?
Stray Cats belong everywhere, I do too.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Growing up in love...
Going over memories of an eternity... the look on my face in the light of love and confidence... where did it go? Where did I loose myself? So much that may be, just may be, I can never love again....
What does it mean for a person to feel ‘right’ for you? As you grow up the question of this 'right' takes prominence over the question of love... this is not some idealistic “Mr. Right/Ms. Right” situation - one knows one’s own limitations -one knows by now, love may not mean livability... and when it doesn’t... it just means immense amounts of pain and disappointment, sacrifices and suffocation... from making you feel the best of yourself, it leads you to become the worst you can be... I don’t want to be the worst I can be...
I have known myself to be vulnerable and flow as if there were no stops, no boundaries, I can build myself and crush myself (and my other) with the might of my emotions… and I have known myself to become completely cold, detached… may be the reason I am so scared of falling in love again is that I don’t want to fall out of love again, grow cold again, reach a place where I cant feel again… or may be its that I don’t want the other person to fall out of love… both feel awful…
I had promised myself that I will not fall in love with a project again… what if my perception is wrong? What if all the theories of a lifetime are wrong and…. Then again, what if they aren’t?
But one thing is for sure, I am too tired and I cant drain my energies anymore... my reserves are very very low... I don't know what I have left to offer... if love has to happen... it will have to find its way to me, heal me .... I don't think I can reach out anymore...
What does it mean for a person to feel ‘right’ for you? As you grow up the question of this 'right' takes prominence over the question of love... this is not some idealistic “Mr. Right/Ms. Right” situation - one knows one’s own limitations -one knows by now, love may not mean livability... and when it doesn’t... it just means immense amounts of pain and disappointment, sacrifices and suffocation... from making you feel the best of yourself, it leads you to become the worst you can be... I don’t want to be the worst I can be...
I have known myself to be vulnerable and flow as if there were no stops, no boundaries, I can build myself and crush myself (and my other) with the might of my emotions… and I have known myself to become completely cold, detached… may be the reason I am so scared of falling in love again is that I don’t want to fall out of love again, grow cold again, reach a place where I cant feel again… or may be its that I don’t want the other person to fall out of love… both feel awful…
I had promised myself that I will not fall in love with a project again… what if my perception is wrong? What if all the theories of a lifetime are wrong and…. Then again, what if they aren’t?
But one thing is for sure, I am too tired and I cant drain my energies anymore... my reserves are very very low... I don't know what I have left to offer... if love has to happen... it will have to find its way to me, heal me .... I don't think I can reach out anymore...
Perhaps love...
(Placido Domingo)
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home
(John Denver)
Perhaps love is like a window
Perhaps an open door
It invites you to come closer
It wants to show you more
And even if you lose yourself
And don't know what to do
The memory of love will see you through
(Placido Domingo)
Oh, Love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel
(John Denver)
For some a way of living
For some a way to feel
(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
And some say love is everything
And some say they don't know
(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it's cold outside
Thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you
(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
(John Denver)
And some say love is everything
Some say they don't know
(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it's cold outside
Or thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home
(John Denver)
Perhaps love is like a window
Perhaps an open door
It invites you to come closer
It wants to show you more
And even if you lose yourself
And don't know what to do
The memory of love will see you through
(Placido Domingo)
Oh, Love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel
(John Denver)
For some a way of living
For some a way to feel
(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
And some say love is everything
And some say they don't know
(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it's cold outside
Thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you
(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
(John Denver)
And some say love is everything
Some say they don't know
(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it's cold outside
Or thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Belief
Does believing in something good necessarily imply that one must believe in existence of its opposite as well?
Sometimes one has the ability to see the brighter side of things, smiles and kind gestures and sometimes nothing but darkness… and sometimes people are at such a stage in life that light fills their hearts and sometimes, they just get used to operating out of darkness… but does one obviously imply the existence of the other? When I see a person operating out of darkness and I try and show them the light that I see, I sometimes wonder, am I wrong to do what I am doing, because it is a fact that the darkness that they see is as much there… but isn’t that true for the light I see too?
As a child I used to have nightmares, I used to wake up and nights and couldn’t go back to sleep (it wasn’t a constant thing or anything like that, but I remember that it happened). I remember a night at my aunt’s house when I sat up in the middle of the night, too scared to go back to sleep… my nani was sleeping beside me and told me that I should keep reciting ram ram ram ram and sleep would come and nothing bad will happen. I must have been six then. So I slept reciting ram ram ram ram, and I slept peacefully. I think by the time I was seven I had decided that ghosts or bad dreams didn’t worry me after all. Somehow, I reached a decision very consciously… I decided that I believed in ghosts and spirits and all those things that may be out there that we may not even know the names of… but that I also believed with all my heart, in God. And if I believed in God, there was no reason to fear anything, because God after all was God, and I will be protected, come what may!
In the next few years, I learnt another very important lesson about my relationship with God. I learnt that religion did not matter, I pray in a certain manner because I am used to praying in that manner and I do not follow the exact ritual in any case (for whatever reason I light 1 diya for dhanteras, 9 for choti diwali and 29 for diwali – my mother has no idea why I have these exact numbers in my head, but I just do; I used to celebrate Krishna’s birthday at 12 am and not the declared pooja time as if I were wishing a best friend on the eve of his birthday and not conducting a ritual on janamashthmi ), but God has nothing to do with religion.
At 11, I was in love with Krishna. Completely. As if he were a human I could actually be in love with. I started writing for him, I was Radha and Meera and Andala and every cell in my body and soul felt unparalleled love… and in that I realised that one is not to fear God but to love God, and one is not to fear love but to love – love…
There are enough instances in life to prove otherwise. And I can’t narrate half as many to prove my thesis, but I know that even as I fear… making the wrong choices, trusting the wrong people, beong wronged and feeling unloved… I operate from belief and love, and something tells me, if I do, despite life, there must be something to it… and if I am as mad as I sometimes think I am... there must be something to that too.
Sometimes one has the ability to see the brighter side of things, smiles and kind gestures and sometimes nothing but darkness… and sometimes people are at such a stage in life that light fills their hearts and sometimes, they just get used to operating out of darkness… but does one obviously imply the existence of the other? When I see a person operating out of darkness and I try and show them the light that I see, I sometimes wonder, am I wrong to do what I am doing, because it is a fact that the darkness that they see is as much there… but isn’t that true for the light I see too?
As a child I used to have nightmares, I used to wake up and nights and couldn’t go back to sleep (it wasn’t a constant thing or anything like that, but I remember that it happened). I remember a night at my aunt’s house when I sat up in the middle of the night, too scared to go back to sleep… my nani was sleeping beside me and told me that I should keep reciting ram ram ram ram and sleep would come and nothing bad will happen. I must have been six then. So I slept reciting ram ram ram ram, and I slept peacefully. I think by the time I was seven I had decided that ghosts or bad dreams didn’t worry me after all. Somehow, I reached a decision very consciously… I decided that I believed in ghosts and spirits and all those things that may be out there that we may not even know the names of… but that I also believed with all my heart, in God. And if I believed in God, there was no reason to fear anything, because God after all was God, and I will be protected, come what may!
In the next few years, I learnt another very important lesson about my relationship with God. I learnt that religion did not matter, I pray in a certain manner because I am used to praying in that manner and I do not follow the exact ritual in any case (for whatever reason I light 1 diya for dhanteras, 9 for choti diwali and 29 for diwali – my mother has no idea why I have these exact numbers in my head, but I just do; I used to celebrate Krishna’s birthday at 12 am and not the declared pooja time as if I were wishing a best friend on the eve of his birthday and not conducting a ritual on janamashthmi ), but God has nothing to do with religion.
At 11, I was in love with Krishna. Completely. As if he were a human I could actually be in love with. I started writing for him, I was Radha and Meera and Andala and every cell in my body and soul felt unparalleled love… and in that I realised that one is not to fear God but to love God, and one is not to fear love but to love – love…
There are enough instances in life to prove otherwise. And I can’t narrate half as many to prove my thesis, but I know that even as I fear… making the wrong choices, trusting the wrong people, beong wronged and feeling unloved… I operate from belief and love, and something tells me, if I do, despite life, there must be something to it… and if I am as mad as I sometimes think I am... there must be something to that too.
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