In a cemetery I found
A love, lasting and true
A dog sleeps
Next to his master’s grave.
Photo :Ryan Walton
Category: Love (Page 2 of 3)
Conception winds
A mother’s clock
To care for life.
In summertime, the river is a channel narrow,
A trickle, it flows, as if in deep sorrow
And even though the river bank turns into a desert,
The river remains a friend she would never ever desert.
In monsoon, it floods, as clouds cry a river,
It flows with a fury, she hadn’t seen ever
And even though for safety, she has to run away,
For the river, she would kneel down and silently pray.
In winter, the river freezes to ice,
It’s a miracle of nature, a superb surprise,
From her warm company and the songs she would sing,
The ice melted slowly, to the arrival of spring.
In springtime the river has a gentle flow,
She’s ecstatic and so is her water buffalo
And nature responds to her love and deep wish
The river is full of flowers and fish.
Seasons change but to the river she is always nice,
Her life is a sign, a subtle advice,
For Little Lola she knew,
A truth simple,
That people are rivers,
And rivers are people.
Image : Delphi De La Rua via Unsplash
I see a solitary ant, carrying a sugar cube huge,
Marching on to its colony, its homely refuge,
Oh this tiny being, what a wonder !
Never does it let out even a whimper.
I see a little sapling with leaves but two,
Fighting its way up, to a world bright and new,
Oh this son of a seed, brave with no fear,
Never do a rustle from the hustle do I hear.
The wind and the waves, riding on time,
Travellers forever with no reason or rhyme,
Oh these vagabonds, to every man’s intrigue,
Never do they speak of a weariness or fatigue.
Spinning and revolving around the sun,
Maybe ever since time had begun,
Mother of seasons, with a tilt, so busy,
The earth doesn’t ever speak of being sunburnt or dizzy.
Never is the sun too hot, or the moon too blue,
Hidden somewhere, there’s a subtle clue.
Look at life and work from another lens,
Let the music to your work be but silence.
Why shout, in stillness should you rejoice,
For in that silence will your work, find its own true voice.
Don’t let work be loud, let it be loved instead,
Toil in silence and have the heart to leave things unsaid.
To foster grace, let that be your purpose sole,
And work shall find harmony with the song of every soul.
How we define a friend changes with age doesn’t it?
I remember when I was little, anyone who would choose to share time and space with me was my friend. And what an eclectic mix of friends did I have !
The carpenter working at home was my friend, so was the lady selling Jamun berries on the street. The scientist uncle who introduced me to the wonderous night sky to the toddler rocking in the pram next door,
The immediate world around me was full of friends!
But over time, as it happens to all of us, the group of friends narrowed down to a chosen few. We had limited time on our hands and had only so much of our attention we could give to people around.
Friends became our world but that world also shrunk considerably as compared to childhood.
We share a mysterious friendship with a childhood friend. Even if we haven’t talked to them in years, the moment we hear their voice over a phone call, we feel a profound camaraderie.
Why is that?
A few reason I can think of that could explain it :
1) A childhood friend reminds us of our roots, of who we were,
Of where we’re coming from. (Past)
2) They not only serve as a repository of nostalgia but also a messenger that informs us how much we’ve grown from who we used to be. (Present)
3) And most importantly, they care about our growth, about where we are headed. (Future)
It is a precious bond indeed.
Over the course of my bicycle journey I experienced an emotion I had never experienced before.
I felt a deep sense of friendship towards people who I was meeting for the first time. It almost felt as if they were all similar to a childhood friend in some mysterious way.
I realised that most of the people I met on the road exhibited one of the three above mentioned qualities
For instance, a little Thai kid on Phuket beach who lit a bonfire for me reminded me of my playful and exuberant childhood. He reminded me of where I came from. (Past)
A sister teaching her brother how to ride a bicycle on the street reminded of how difficult it was for me to learn to do the same. It had taken me several months.
And today, I’m fearlessly Bicycling into the unknown.
They reminded me of how far I’ve come.(Present)
Or an old Thai grandma who on realising that I had a long uphill ride to finish before sundown, chose to push my bicycle while I was riding to help me get to the destination.
She helped in whatever way she could because my growth, my progress mattered to her at some level. (Future)
These experiences only opened up my mind to consider everyone I meet as a friend.
Every beginner reminds me of who I was, where I started, where I’m coming from.
Every expert, through his work, helps me yearn for betterment. Despite not knowing me personally, I still see a friend in them because I’m sure my growth would matter to them if they came to know how much they inspire me.
Every contemporary guides me about my growth over the course of time I’ve known them.
I am of the firm belief that we can only design a better world if we all grow together, collectively.
For the growth of the world, personal growth is indispensable.
How do I see the growth of the world in the light of friendship?
To me, a friend is someone whose growth matters to me.
If I wish to see positive growth in the world, I need to see the same in the individual, in each human being.
In the interest of engineering a better world, we ought to care about each other’s growth, even that of a stranger’s.
Having this worldview helps to cultivate compassion towards everyone around us.
Your growth matters to me,
And hence, You are a friend in my heart.
I hope, in your heart,
I too am a friend.
And I believe,
Our collective growth,
Our collective friendship and brotherhood
Will engineer the change in the world we all wish to see.
What do you think, my friend ?
I had the fortune of volunteering at ‘Mindful Farm’, a little community nestled among hillocks in North Chiang Mai, Thailand.
One of the things I liked most about being there was the nutritious breakfast we used to eat, seated on the floor, in complete silence, mindfully.
After breakfast, one of us would read a little story about mindfulness in daily life to everyone else. The founder, Pi Nan, had a wonderful collection of stories to be read out loud every morning.
On a particular morning, my friend Alice was reading out a story. She read the story with such an endearing cadence that all of us just wanted to keep on listening. Giving space and emphasis as it deemed fit, she beckoned us all on a journey, like Pied Piper would with his pipe.
After she finished reading the story, we all were secretly wishing that she kept on reading !
We got up from our places and continued on to work on the farm.
While we were busy working, I took a moment to compliment her about the way she read the story.
‘Alice, how did you learn to read like that?’
‘Ah, did you enjoy it?’ she asked.
‘Yes, indeed. It was read with such empathy and emotion. I felt as if I was a kid in a nursery and my teacher was reading a gripping little tale to me.’
‘Well, I am a teacher back in Myanmar. I teach kids. I have to be able to read engagingly, don’t I?’
‘Ah, that explains it!’
‘You know, I feel that we assume that we no longer need to be read to once we learn how to read. But isn’t it a joy to be be listening to a story read with the right emotion and flow?’
‘By all means !’ I assented.
And we carried on our work in the little patch of the garden.
Yesterday, my friend’s father and I sat down to share time and space. I narrated a short story to him I had written a few days ago. He recited a few of the couplets he had composed.
He had such joy in his spirit when he recited his own poetry composed in an agreeable melody.
Once he was done reciting he spoke,
‘You know, my wife has insomnia. When she cannot fall asleep at night, I sing my poetry as a lullaby to her. Before she knows, she falls asleep like a content baby.’
‘How do you think that works Uncle?’ I asked.
‘You know, I think we all feel that only little babies need lullabies to fall asleep. But, we could all use a lullaby in our life.’
Smiling gently to his wise observation, we enjoyed the evening breeze.
These two experiences with Alice and my friend’s father got me thinking about the things we do away with as we grow up.
Most experiences we consider so precious as kids are deemed to be childish.
Who doesn’t remember sleeping to a lullaby? Or a short story performed by Granny in the dark theatre of the night, that soothed us into a dream filled sleep?
The caressing on our ruffled hair by Mom, when we were down with fever? Her peculiar scent that made you feel you’re home in her arms?
As we grow up we do not let these experiences into our lives. We dare not to sleep in our mother’s lap, rationalizing our fear, fooling ourselves out of what we might truly need.
After an age, subconsciously we seek the same feelings as we did as a child, from a partner.
Yes, we need to listen to someone with deep anticipation and intent, just how we used to listen to those childhood stories.
We need to listen to them whisper in our ear, to lead us to a sound sleep, just how a lullaby used to do back in the day. We need to be touched, lovingly, like we allowed our mother to once upon a time. We need that embracing scent of our beloved, to feel home, no matter where we are, just like our mother’s scent made us feel.
Our adulthood comes with a baggage. The inertia of all those walls that we build between us and our guileless heart.
Our heart was open to love as children.
But as we grew up, we even started feeling awkward when embracing our own parents, something that used to be so natural !
How is this growth in any sense of the word?
Sometimes, growth means to retreat.
Retreat to a state of pure being,
Of having an open heart,
An all embracing soul,
That touches and let’s itself be touched.
That seeks out an embrace,a lullaby, a story, the scent of home…
‘Hello…Sunny….
me…near park…
you go here. Okay?‘
said Lucky , maybe in her first conversation in English over a phone.
‘Okay, Lucky. You wait for me.
I come to you.‘
‘Chai, chai (Yes, Yes in Thai)’
And I started to ride around the park trying to spot my friend Lucky and her husband Pravee. In case you’re wondering, Sunny is my Thai name which this lovely couple gave me, since it was difficult for them to pronounce my real name!
After a five minute search, we spotted each other. I crossed the road and went to see them. There was such excitement in our spirit to be meeting each other again. But we did not have a common language to communicate in!
Like overjoyed kids we opened our hearts and smiled ear to ear as we greeted each other.
We put my bicycle at the back of their pick-up truck. I went inside and sat on the rear seat.
What a joyride it was for the next three hours !
We managed to communicate using different aids. Sign language, English- Thai translator, exaggerated expressions and of course, unbridled laughter when we would fail to understand a word of what the other person was saying.
There was a childlike innocence in their demeanor. Lucky had a book called, ‘Working conversation to perfect your English -Thai Edition’ which she routinely referred to for asking questions.
The excitement and enthusiasm this couple shared despite the language barrier was adorable to witness.
After an intimate tour of Bangkok, they dropped me back home. They had a long conversation with a chatty watchman which had the word ‘India India’ in almost every other sentence. They would point at me lovingly all throughout their talk.
‘Okay Sunny, Goodbye.
See you India’
‘Yes, In India, you stay my home Okay?’
‘Okay Okay!’
They left shortly afterwards. I waved them goodbye till they were beyond sight.
I had met this couple by accident at a bicycle rally in South Thailand. And we had exchanged our contacts.
They had so much love in their heart that they wanted to see me again just to show me around. They didn’t speak English and communication was an issue.
But their alacrity to make a new friend was so sincere that nothing could come in the way.
They gave so much love and energy that I came to believe, I was Sunny !
I would happily identify myself with that name.
Beyond names,
beyond languages,
beyond all barriers,
Is the language of the heart.
Once you communicate from there,
You will find a deep connection no matter what.
My cheeks hurt by smiling so much all throughout the day in their company.
With a new name,
new friends,
And with the promise of keeping an childlike heart,
I assure myself,
To carry the spirit of friendship on and on.
The shadows were getting longer by the minute. As I passed by milestone after milestone, I found myself still quite far away from the nearest town. It had been a long day bicycling under the full sun.
I was hoping to buy a bunch of bananas for dinner. I only had 29 Baht with me to spare. With no ATM around me on the highway, that was my allowance for food for the night.
On the way, I saw a few shops adjacent to the road selling food. I slowed down to see if any of them had bananas.
Luckily, one of them did. I stopped to catch a breath before I spoke.
But as it happened, I didn’t need to speak at all. A lovely woman stood up and put a big bunch of bananas in a bag and gave it to me.
Since I didn’t have much money, I wanted to ask how much they cost. I took out my phone and gestured her to type in the price in the calculator app.
To my surprise, she spoke back to me in fluent English.
‘No No, you don’t need to pay for this. It is a gift from me to you.’
‘No, I must pay for this !’ I insisted.
She smiled and continued,
‘These bananas are from my farm. Very delicious. No problem for me. You can enjoy them.’
And she put another bunch in the bag for me.
‘What is you name ?’ I asked her.
‘My name is Onn. I live in this village.’
‘Onn, I am from India.’
‘I know. I can tell from your face.’
Her demeanor had a warmth and innocence as if she was trying to make the first friend of her life.
I wished to give her something for her kind gift of a couple dozen bananas.
‘Onn, can I click a picture of you?’
‘Yes, Okay!’
‘This is a special camera. It is called a Polaroid. We will have the picture come out from the camera instantly.’
‘Oh really! ‘ she exclaimed and posed.
I clicked the picture and waited for it to develop in the dark.
‘You like Thailand?’
‘Yes, a lot !’
‘Why?’ she inquired.
‘Because of people like you!’ I shared gladly.
She wore an excited look as I gave her the Polaroid picture.
‘This is wonderful. I like it. Thank you !’
‘You can make it your ID card !’ I joked.
‘Yes yes ! Next time you come in this area, come again, I always have bananas from my farm.’
I joined my hands and bowed down to greet her Namaste.
‘Yes I will, I promise.’
I got on my bicycle and headed onward.
She waved goodbye to me, just like kids on the street do, knowing well that they would never see you again, and not allowing that awareness to quell the exuberance in their greeting.
I’d heard from marketers that to create a relationship with a customer, give free stuff to them when they least expect it. By doing so, you’ll create loyalty around your brand.
But this beautiful village woman, far removed from the context of business, shared what she had, without seeking any business in return.
She was just happy being an embassador of goodwill.
Had I paid for the bananas the usual way, she would have had money and I’d have had the Fruit.
But she chose to be generous,
And both of us have a beautiful memory,
To reminisce,
To share,
And most importantly the desire to carry the spirit of empathy, compassion and goodwill within us, on the journey of life.
Later in the night, I tasted one of the bananas. They were certainly the best ones I’ve ever tasted.
She was right to not put a price tag on it.
For certainly they are,
Priceless.
The sun shone brightly, hovering in the clear sky. It was just 9 am but the heat made it feel as if it was noon. Determined to ride for another half an hour I pedaled on. I was riding from Phuket to a town called Phang Nga.
I had taken this route a few days ago to reach Phuket. That ride was made special by this woman who made the most lovingly prepared meal I had eaten in Thailand.
Today, as I was on the same road, I wished to stop to see her again and eat her food.
However, it is tricky to spot a little shop that you only vaguely remember. My inability to read Thai made it even more difficult to find her shop.
I moved on slowly, battling the sun’s ire.
At one moment, I just had a feeling that she was close by. I looked around and saw a little shop that could be hers.
I took a U-Turn and approached the shop.
And I found her, sitting on a chair with her cheeks resting on her palm.
She smiled with inexplicable delight.
It seemed as if she was already expecting me. Maybe she had seen me pass by across the road and knew I would make a U-turn and come to her.
I gestured to the eggs, rice and mortar and pestle to remind her of what she had made for me a few days ago.
‘Ok Ok’ she said smilingly.
I was brought a cold glass of water by her daughter. The table-fan was turned towards me. I eased myself as if I had reached home. Nonchalantly I plugged in
my phone to charge.
Within minutes, I had her signature fried rice in front of me. I prayed for her well being and ate to my heart’s content. Halfway through I asked her if she can make me another one to take with me.
She gladly agreed and got working.
I don’t recall seeing anyone cook with so much love for an absolute stranger.
Soon, I had the take away pack with me.
I quickly rose to get my Polaroid camera.
I asked her if I could take a picture of her and her daughter.
And that feminine blush that signals an affirmative surfaced on her face!
I clicked a picture and left it with them.
I felt so at home that I no longer felt there was a transaction involved.
As I got up to leave, I remembered that I hadn’t paid for the meal.
I paid them 60 Baht as they curiously stared at the photograph.
Just before I got on my bike, the daughter came running to me with a Thai orange. I accepted it happily and moved on.
I had seen Thai oranges in markets many times. They look a bit shriveled up as compared to Oranges back in India. I was never interested to try them. But today I had one with me.
I tasted it, only to be blown away by the flavour. It leans more to the sweeter side than citrus. It was a phenomenal experience.
I am sitting with the peel of orange in my hand, smiling.
I wonder how I could just sense that the lady’s shop was nearby.
How she knew I would take a U turn and come to eat at her place?
And why I felt so at home in her little shop?
I realized that a home is not just a physical location. It is a place where someone is waiting for you expectantly.
Today, I found a little home in a foreign land.
A home I might never come back to again,
But I’ve leased out a place in my heart for it.
Quite often, we feel overwhelmed by the prospect of making a big decision. One that could steer the course of our life in future. Fearing making the wrong choice, we find ourself not making a decision for as long as possible.
Most likely, the decision pertains to either
A) Starting something new, a fresh avenue in life
OR
B) Quitting something that we were involved in for long in the past.
Considering the gravity of the consequences of making the wrong decision, we often procrastinate for far too long. But the indecision doesn’t serve us.
An easy way around this is to sincerely ask yourself the following two questions.
A) Do I have enough love for what I am getting myself into?
B) Is there a prospect to learn and grow ?
OR
If the decision is about quitting something old, ask yourself,
A) Do I have enough love left for what/ who I’ve been involved with?
B) Does the opportunity to learn and grow still seem promising?
If you have enough love to get involved with something new and there are avenues to learn and grow,
By all means you should decide to go for it.
And if you find yourself not passionate about what you were involved with and it doesn’t hold the promise of learning and growing, even if it is hard to do so,
Quit it.
Do not fear making the wrong decision. Sometimes choosing to making a decision is in itself, the best decision one could make.
For regardless of whether it is right or wrong, there is a prospect of learning and growing.
Trust your instincts and tread.
Making the decision itself is the way forward.
To more love and learning in your life.
To boundless beautiful possibilities.