Flames and Forgiveness

Last night we had a fire at home. Luckily it was in the external fuse box and not inside. When the acrid stench of smoke assaulted me after the power was wavering alarmingly, I ran downstairs. Meanwhile the power had quit entirely. Smoke was seeping out of the metal circuit breaker box. I told the kids to run outside and get a torch from a neighbour’s house which was a few houses away from my own.  S is away in Melbourne for a month but I was used to being alone during a crisis. I went out in the feeble light of my BlackBerry and was shocked to see flames in the fuse box outside. Black smoke was billowing out of the top of the box. I knew I couldn’t douse an electrical fire with water so I called for help. Nothing happened for fifteen minutes as one neighbour after another stopped by to check after seeing the smoke. They all helped in locating an electrician. Finally a fire extinguisher was brought and the flames were doused.

I thanked my friends who had rushed over and who offered very graciously the hospitality of their homes for the night. They didn’t want me sleeping in a smoke-scented house or having problems later in the night. I was very touched by their kindness but declined anyway. It was nine o’clock after all the hoopla. The kids and I were invited to a friend’s place for dinner so I sent them ahead and walked upstairs. As I sat at my dressing table by the candlelight brushing my hair,I pondered on my reaction at the sight of the flames. I was oddly unmoved after the initial shock. I had nothing of value in the house once I had rushed the children out. The rest could be handled. Off I went to the neighbour’s house for dinner where I joined the party feeling grateful to have had help when I needed it most. 

Late at night while I was lying in bed, the image of the flames danced vividly in my mind. In that hazy state between sleeping and wakefulness, I recalled clearly the little exploding noises as the fuses gave out, the loud intense knocking sounds as the metal of the fuse box began to warp and the light of the flames on my hands as I tried to figure out what was happening. I also saw the immediate extinguishing that came from a blast of cool foam and the blackened debris that was left behind in the aftermath of the fire. 

The blackened mess looked to me very much like the depiction of a writhing tortured mind. The kind of mind that is paranoid and doubtful and looks only for signs of wrongdoing. A mind on fire with unhappiness. A mind that is incapable of compassion, understanding or forgiveness. For forgiveness is like that cool foam which douses destructive rage. The act of forgiveness redeems the giver and the receiver. I slid into sleep with a prayer in my heart that there would be more forgiveness and less dissension in this world of ours and consequently less fires of rage to put out…

Limits...

I always have too many thoughts buzzing in my mind. Sometimes I find it energizing. Some other times it is exhausting. The thoughts chase each other in mindless whorls of chaotic patterns. Out of this chaos comes a certain brand of creativity – an ability to make something concrete out of nothing at all. Creation is always an empowering feeling and that is perhaps why I love to write. It does not matter for that short while of time, how the rest of my life fares. For those few moments, all I see is the screen in front of me and my fingers flashing across the keyboard at warp speed to pin down that one stream of thought out of thousands that I wish to capture. I don’t really wonder what will come next. I never have a conclusion when I begin – how can I when I follow the thought as I write?

Today’s thread of awareness is about limits. How far are you willing to be pushed in the name of friendship or love or dedication? The fact is if you care for someone else deeply be it a friend, a spouse or a child, you are willing to do a lot for them. If you are the naturally generous sort, then it is rather easy to get carried away and continue giving till you realize that you have no reserves left sometimes. I am lucky to have a spouse who is a constant source of strength but even then in my other relationships, I find that I let myself be pushed too much on occasion. The friends who are truly my friends have never taken advantage of me but there have been a few people who I thought mattered but have crossed the line that for me demarcates a limit that is non-negotiable. I cut them out of my life. Its never easy and it hurts if they mattered even a short while but cutting is healthier than letting things fester. No words can fix that which does not deserve to be put together again.

Why do we each have limits? The answer is simple. There exists a state where we know better than any other that the particular person in our life brings us no joy but only a measure of uncertainty. The effort then of keeping that person in our life exceeds the returns we receive  in terms of happiness. Why then continue a farce? For me that is my limit – anyone who takes me for granted or keeps in touch merely to pass time or fails to be there for me when I need them is no longer welcome. If you do not have limits that others are not allowed to trample on, you lose your definition. 

This approach has lost me former friends many times. We all have limits. They are there to protect us. Perhaps with true understanding, we will have no need of limits or barriers or fears of being pushed too hard. Until that day comes, however, I draw hard lines around me as I stand lost in thoughts yet again.

Our Onam

Onam for me brings with it a host of memories. The memories are not of the festival itself for I did not grow up celebrating it in Kuwait. When we returned to Kerala after ten years of living outside the country, I spent Onam holidays at my grandmother’s village. The time of year, the month that Keralites refer to as Chingam, saw my native land at its most beautiful. It was the perfect month -days of balmy breezes with the scent of water lilies wafting in the air, sighting the tiny white thumbas and the impossibly blue kaakapoovu in the paddy fields, enjoying weather that was neither hot nor depressingly rainy. Being in Kerala in the month of Chingam, you would understand why King Mahabali of old had asked Vamana for only one boon – the right to visit his subjects in Kerala once a year; for in this particular month, it truly does appear like heaven on earth.

This year, for the first time in what seems like ages, I did not invite friends over for a sadhya (the traditional feast) at our home.  It didn’t feel right. I would miss seeing on Onam day, the faces of friends who meant a lot to me. It was all part of the tradition S and I had created for our little family. Even the children were upset that they we would not have guests for the sadhya.  Another part of me was grateful to other friends for inviting us to share Onam with them. So I felt torn. There was, on the one hand, the guilt for not doing everything myself and on the other hand, the feeling of gratitude at having friends who gave me the luxury of being pampered together with the comfort of great company. S as usual, told me to just relax and enjoy the fact that difference from tradition too can be fun. So I did.

The sadhya at our friend’s house was wonderful with each of us from four families, contributing to the lavish spread. Everything tasted perfectly delightful and I knew as I shared the feast, that on my own, I could never have done so much or so well. There was laughter in abundance. There were stories. There was praise all around for the superb food. By the end of the afternoon, we were all satisfied and somewhat sleepy after all that food. So I invited everyone over for tea later in the evening and they promised to show up.

We got back home and our other friends started visiting – one after the other. I was delighted. We showed off S’s glorious temple elephant ‘pookalam’ (flower carpet) to much ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaaahs’. There was more laughter as people continued to troop in. Old friends met new friends and everyone bonded over cups of tea and snacks and more payasam. It was late by the time the last friend left.  S and I looked at each other with a satisfied smile. It was one of those perfect days. I felt truly blessed to have so much love in my life. The laughter of friends, the generosity of hearts we chose to share our lives with, the acceptance without judgement – all these were gifts that were truly precious. I hope and pray that every year sees us happy and that all our friends continue to grace our lives – most of all I hope that as my children grow up they too learn that the true message of Onam is the joy of giving with open hearts…

Journeys

There are moments in any journey when you pause and wonder if the road you have taken is the right one. There are moments when you know that you have walked along the road best avoided. There are moments when the road you eventually choose, though right, is so challenging that to continue along it takes more will power than you ever believed you possessed. There are also moments when you hit the crossroads of right and wrong; of happiness and sacrifice; of a secret joy over duty and you pause again wondering which way to go. Are we only responsible for our own happiness or are we responsible for the happiness of everyone who has ever loved us in whatever fashion, be they our parents, children or spouse?

The questions will always plague anyone who has had the courage to venture out and tackle the world head-on. Those with their heads in the sand do not go very far in any case. They build their cocoons and can easily fool themselves by ascribing greatness and glory to their every act. They don’t have questions to face – they only have lies to fabricate; lies that become more intricate with every utterance and which bind them tighter in a web of deceit so complicated that the clear light of truth is almost completely lost.

I like the questions. They make me feel alive. They poke me and goad me to think of solutions that would have otherwise eluded me. Why would I want the humdrum of an everyday existence? Why would I want the routine of a 9 to 5 if my heart was not in it? Always I have picked passion over money and have ended up far poorer in some ways and incredibly richer in others. Sometimes the things that make your life meaningful is the sight of that smile of gratitude on someone who has been offered a small ray of hope or that spark of comprehension in a lost child. I live for moments that make me feel rejuvenated. On the days I try to not worry about how to save for an uncertain future, I think of these bright moments and I am comforted.

Perhaps my one great regret is the knowledge that I too have once traversed a path that on hindsight gave me only grief. What appears attractive and wreathed with sunshine often turns to be swampy and mired in treachery. It is only experience that teaches us that the harder paths are the ones that we should stay on regardless of the degree of our fear or the weakness of our persistence. I have seen many a friend choose the paths that I could see would never work for them. I have had a few friends warn me when they thought I was veering off my true course as well but there is one basic truth – our journeys are solo affairs – only each one of us can determine the route we take and if we love someone , it behoves us to stand back and watch them on their path with a prayer on our lips and good wishes in our heart but never with words of discouragement. We all are born alone, we die alone and the journey in the middle even if shared with someone for some time, is essentially undertaken alone.

So have your moments and pause, but continue onward soon or you will lose your courage and stay in one place forever. Move ahead and see the destiny that is yours alone. Don’t stand by the wayside watching as others walk but go along your path and stumble if need be. Journey on, my friends – the world awaits and there can never be a path so wrong that you would not find your way back home….

A good day...

Every year on Appu’s birthday, I wake up with a mixture of happiness, anticipation, worry and a sense of inadequacy. I know that I will end the day with the feeling that I have not done enough for him. Over the years, I have gone from inviting every child in this complex, to inviting a handful for his party to inviting no one at all. The reason is simple. He wants everyone in his life but he cannot hold a conversation. He is someone best avoided by children of his age because they don’t understand why he cannot be like them. I don’t blame them either. His incessant hugs and childlike joy in having other kids in his house as his ‘friends’ even if it is for a day is probably embarrassing to the kids who do show up. So I dreaded going through even one more such party. I decided this year, I would invite no one and I would not subject my child to anything that gave other children a chance to treat him differently. I would instead only celebrate the day with people who truly loved Appu, who cared enough to see him for who he was and who felt real joy in his company.

So we started off the day with a hunt for the perfect gift and a promise to take him and everyone at the centre out for lunch. Of course Aks was the instigator of the plan since she believed that he had the right to ask for anything on that day and we all had the responsibility to make it happen. The lunch was a huge hit. We had gone to a simple dhaba – nothing fancy but the children loved everything so much that my initial reservations all melted away. How simple were their needs! How happy these kids were with a little treat! With what gusto did they relish the food and the fact that they were out like everyone else having fun!

The lunch was followed by a fantastic party in the evening. The centre was done up beautifully. All of Appu’s real friends showed up. Pallavi’s cake in the shape of an oscillating fan (yes that is Appu’s greatest obsession) was amazing. Aks’s energy in dealing with the kids after the long day was unbelievable. Tanu’s commitment to being part of every important day that my kids and I have celebrated is yet another blessing. Chai’s insistence on treating him like a prince was adorable. People came from far away to simply wish Appu and he was beaming with a joy so intense, I could never do justice to it with mere words. In a world where one constantly sees only feeble, contrived, second-hand versions of happiness, undiluted joy is a rarity. It transforms all those who are witness to it. The day was so beautiful; it left S and me in an exalted frame of mind. I cannot express enough gratitude to all those who made Appu’s day so special. Thank you all for everything. But most of all thank you for seeing my child with eyes of love, for being there with all your heart and for taking away from me, for one day, the worry that I have not done right by him.