Dear

Dear

You have turned into a young lady now and I choose this day to tell you what a pleasure it has been to parent a child like you. You have always been an extraordinary child. I still remember the first time I held you in my hands. Unlike other newborns who can’t focus on a thing for long, you held my gaze for an instant too long , as a silent promise of our comradery. Your eyes have always had an intensity that could not be missed by anyone.  

I can vividly recall how the most fascinating part of the home's library for you used to be the place where your grandfather’s collection was kept. A glance at the old leathered spines of the books would make your eyes gleam. You would smell them with such occupied reverence as if they held the scent of antiquity. I saw you grow up into a person who developed an intimate relationship with literature. And it has been a joy to see the abstract charm it has added to your personality.

Ever since you were a little kid, the sight of you indulging in a chocolate cake has been the most delightful sight for me. You intently savouring the thing- smudging it all over your face (even now)- oblivious to the people watching you. It is the picture of a girl who believes in enjoying the things she loves , in her own way and on her own terms and has the courage to do so.

Challenges always amused you. I can never forget how you insisted on learning to ride the bicycle without supporters, despite getting bruised several times. That was so much you- pushing your boundaries and never giving up. How each time we went to your uncle’s orchard, you would land up on top of a mango tree with your older cousins - your face smeared with the juice leaking from the mango you were sucking at. I loved the smile of guiltless pleasure you flashed every time you did that.

It is your eighteenth birthday today and the whole idea of adulthood must be a little difficult to absorb. You will be asking life many questions- and while you will discover answers to some, you will define the answers to others. As you will move out of familiar spaces to discover new dimensions of life, you will find yourself pulled to many new, unexplored ideas and avenues. Knowing the kind of person you are, you will want to learn about and try out  many different things. All I want to tell you dear is that always take out time to reflect on yourself and nurture the  the depth of your personality. It is very important to be sensitive to the artistry within in order to truly absorb the creative knowledge outside.

Time will require you to make choices for yourself- the career, friends, partner. Choose a career which you love. Then you will not have to work a single day of your life. Your love for the work will transform it into fun. Choose friends who accept you in your worst. Some of the friendships forged now will have the potential to last a lifetime. And Choose a man in whom you can see a friend before you can see a lover; someone with whom silences are not uncomfortable; one who can hold the intensity in your eyes. He should be someone who commands your respect because that is the foundation of every relationship. True love inspires. The right person will bring out the best in you and will see the best in himself through you.

It is fun growing up. Play with the shades of life.Don't be afraid of making mistakes. Let yourself be. And with every passing year fall deeper in love with yourself. Happy birthday darling.

Love

Papa

When I Read Out To Him

His hands flipped the pages, scanning each page for a brief second, finally resting on one which divided the book into almost two equal halves. From where I was observing, the book in his hand- opened midway- looked like a bird’s outstretched wings.

“Can you read this page to me darling?” he asked.

It was a Sunday evening. The first time he had asked me to read to him was when I was some 12 years old. Before handing me the book, he had told me that to be a good reader I would need to nurture an intimate relationship with words; I would have to internalise what the words want to say. Only then would my reading have a ‘ring’ of meaning .

  It was a J.Krishnamurti book. I went on to read it aloud....

“Have you ever noticed a tree standing naked against the sky, how beautiful it is? All its branches are outlined, and in its nakedness there is a poem, there is a song. Every leaf is gone and it is waiting for the spring. When the spring comes, it again fills the tree with the music of many leaves, which in due season fall and are blown away. And that is the way of life”

That day for the first time he said, “The text was speaking to me when you read. You have grown into a fine reader dear”.

***

They told me he was no more. I don’t know what hit me harder- the reality of the words or the abruptness with which I encountered them. In the next few moments I could feel the naked truth detonating in my brain, preparing to explode and blow me into rubble. But it was as if my emotions had  lost even the energy to explode. I stood there as silent tears ran down my cheeks-like a naked tree against the sky of life.  

***

It was 10:30 p.m. She was showing me the ‘mind-map’ she had made of the thoughts that occupy the different compartments of her brain. My eyes were intently scanning the sheet spread before me with her finger guiding me through the connecting pathways whenever I lost track. So somewhere in the middle was her father who somehow led to her KFI school which then led to a quotation by Krishnamurti and the arrow starting from there landed at my name. The quotation went as follows-

“The reality of truth is not to be bought, to be sold, to be repeated; it cannot be caught in books. It has to be found from moment to moment, in the smile, in the tear, under the dead leaf, in the vagrant thought, in the fullness of love.”

“You were the person who, I thought, was a living example of this” she said, when I threw  a questioning glance at her on seeing my name linked to it.

And then as if she could not let the meaning of that moment get lost in the subsequent chatter, she asked me, “Can I not wait till 12 O’ clock and give you your birthday present right away?”

The look in her eyes made me feel that there could not be a better time for her to give me what she wanted to and I could not take that moment away from her.

So she rushed to her room and came back with a tiny little book in her hand. The cover of the book read

“Freedom from the known” – J. Krishnamurti

I opened the book and we landed on a chapter titled ‘Love’. And even before I had read the first paragraph, I could hear myself reading it aloud. And as I went ahead in the chapter, pausing at junctures which compelled us to discuss about them; I had a subtle feeling that he was hearing me, that he had wanted to hear me read to him then.

What a perfect way to spend time with him on my birthday.

Harmony Of Contradictions

In the overwhelming darkness of the night, the moon stood aglow- a tiny circle unobscured by the infinite blackness.It was then that it suddenly struck my mind that the greatest concord in nature dwells between opposites.  The bright light of the day would engulf the gentle glow of the moon, dissolving its presence. The darkness of the night enhances the elegance of the moon, it feeds its existence . The night surrenders itself to the moon and this union of contrasts breeds divine beauty.

Voices can exist only in the presence of silence. If there was an inferno of noise everywhere, voices would have no meaning.  Rest would be robbed of its beauty in the absence of fatigue. The cool breeze has its tenderness only in the scorch of summer. It is only in the dusk of deep sorrow  that you see the light of that courage which, you had thought , was impossible in you. The most benumbing of shocks stirs to life something that was numb in you all your life. In the heart of contradictions exists impregnable harmony...

Yearning

The shades playing in the sky,

A beautiful weave of hues;

The sun sinking slowly ,

The gentle breeze whisting a soft tune.

I look back at my trail,

My footprints etched in soil;

And hear my heart whisper,

If only your footprints could be beside mine...

How easy it would have made this toil.

The moon brushing its silver in the sky,

The scarlet of the sun receding,

If only your hands would gently slip into mine,

Everything would attain so much more meaning.

As I tilt my head to the vastness above,

A million shining stars catch my eye;

But still my heart craves to see a different light,

That lingering spark in your eyes...

When they were locked into mine.