What a magnificent view it is from here. I wish you all could be here with me seeing it. I cannot describe it's unimaginable beauty.
Showing posts with label Old Writings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old Writings. Show all posts
4/6/12
I Am the Master of my Ancient, Brilliant, Chariot
What a magnificent view it is from here. I wish you all could be here with me seeing it. I cannot describe it's unimaginable beauty.
2/13/12
My Gratitude List
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,
bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,
brown paper packages tied up with strings,
these are a few of my favorite things.
When the dog bites, when the bee stings,
when I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
and then I don't feel so bad.”
- Oscar Hammerstein II, film Sound of Music
--------------------------------------------------------------
- my dear Angels who look after me day and night
- my wise teachers
- my mom’s kadi chawal, mukki di roti & saag & rasgulle
- my dad’s philosophical direction
- Steel City's Rivers
- cheese, lots of cheese
- late afternoons drowned in chai and pakode
- the Spanish guitar
- music
- Lord Nataraja’s blessings
- my friends’ practical advice
- boisterous laughter
- humorous musings
- the Tarot
- the sound of church bells at 6pm
- Oprah!
- spinach ricotta pizza!
- lounging in lavender baths
- feelings of inspiration and hope permeating every cell of your body
- driving aimlessly through the hills of Pittsburgh
- big red daisies
- rich pink roses
- Ricola cherry cough drops
- mauve lipstick
- Panera lunches
- Femme Individuelle perfume
- the sensual side of life
- French films
- Elephants who nurture you from afar
- velour jumpsuits
- playing Uno with little kids
- the month of May
- the freedom to live
- walnuts
- getting drenched in spring rains
- catching fireflies in glass jars
- beach vacations
- gazing at stars
- men's cologne stuck in your nostrils
- royal colors
- massages
- long walks through the streets of Shadyside & Squirrel Hill
- big sindur bindis
- flamenco heels
- papdi chaat!
- big silver hoops
- cafe au laits
- fireplaces burning in the midst of frigid winters
- dance studios
- big sindur bindis
- flamenco heels
- papdi chaat!
- big silver hoops
- cafe au laits
- fireplaces burning in the midst of frigid winters
- dance studios
- yellow sapphires
- ladybugs crawling on carpets
- the ability to forget about the story of your life
- the ability to forget about the story of your life
- teapots
- socks
- contacts and napkins
- dishwashers
- cotton in your ears (for when the tenants make certain kinds of noises in the apartment upstairs)
- dirt
- sand
- whipped butter on your methi pronthee :)
- socks
- contacts and napkins
- dishwashers
- cotton in your ears (for when the tenants make certain kinds of noises in the apartment upstairs)
- dirt
- sand
- whipped butter on your methi pronthee :)
- peaceful compromises
- balanced heartbeats
- spring water
- Chopin's Trois Nocturnes Op.9 N0.1 composition
- balanced heartbeats
- spring water
- Chopin's Trois Nocturnes Op.9 N0.1 composition
- my bruised but lovely Honda – she’s strong I tell you
- three layer hummus and tabouleh topped on asiago peppercorn bread
- three layer hummus and tabouleh topped on asiago peppercorn bread
- Aveda lotion with tourmaline
- laptops
- good haircuts
- my butt - it took me a while to be grateful for this
- summer dresses
- nachos
Voila :)
1/18/12
ah yes. Just got done serving mom and the aunties some tea. It is of course good tea. I have a knack for making good tea.
measure one big mug of water (plus a little more) and put in pot/teapot
turn heat to medium high (but closer to medium side)
break one cardamom and add the seeds plus the skin
add about twenty fennel seeds
pinch of cinnamon (a nice touch now and then)
let it brew
BBBBBRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW
How is this. How is it that I make good tea.
I have had quite a few people ask me about my tea making ways. They wonder how I produce a potion that has such full yet delicate flavor. 'How is it that you get the perfect combination of cardamom, fennel or cinnamon in tea, Anjali?’ Or ‘how is it that most of the time you make such good tea with just one cardamom pod and a red rose tea bag?'
I have had quite a few people ask me about my tea making ways. They wonder how I produce a potion that has such full yet delicate flavor. 'How is it that you get the perfect combination of cardamom, fennel or cinnamon in tea, Anjali?’ Or ‘how is it that most of the time you make such good tea with just one cardamom pod and a red rose tea bag?'
I actually don't use red rose often for my own tea, not everyone can be a tea snob.
So this is how I do it. Let me tell you the secret to making good tea. Are you ready for it? Here it is:
It's all in how you brew it. You have to brew the tea.
No, actually........you have to
brrrrrrreeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww the tea.
Brewing the tea means you let the water simmer with the flavors that you are using for some time. You have to mix the water and flavors with a spoon now and then (or any utensil or stick thingie). You have to sniff the concoction and make sure the kitchen (or at least the stove area) starts enveloping a certain, pleasant, satisfying aroma. You have GOT to let the water absorb each and every atom of flavor.
After everything has brrreeeewwwwweeddd, you add the teabag (this is of course only for black tea. The rules for green and herbal teas differ slightly but there are still important differences. Feel free to buy yourself a copy of The Tea Companion, A Connoisseur's Guide. It's a good read. However I learned the art of brewing on my own. I'm a natural.
After you pour the tea brew in the mugs, add milk (PLEASE do NOT boil the tea with the milk. I know this is the Indian/Punjabi way of making tea but this is incorrect. Tea originally did not require the addition of milk in it. Adding milk is in fact an English tradition and the rest of the world followed it like with everything else the English did. However, over time, humanity has found that adding milk to black tea gives it a nice texture and feel on the tongue. Thus it is ok to include it AFTER the tea has boiled. Boiling tea with the milk and cinnamon and all the other heavy flavors some Indians and Americans put in it RUINS the delicate flavor. You might as well have a cinnamon bun instead if you're going to do it their way.
Anyway, after you add the milk, add sugar if wanted. You must always remember to add only that amount of sugar that the tea recipient wants. Even if you think that a little bit of sugar would be helpful in bringing out the flavor, you cannot add it if the recipient does not want it because after all, we want to please the recipient. Tea making and tea enjoying is a wondrous art.
It's all in how you brew it. You have to brew the tea.
No, actually........you have to
brrrrrrreeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww the tea.
Brewing the tea means you let the water simmer with the flavors that you are using for some time. You have to mix the water and flavors with a spoon now and then (or any utensil or stick thingie). You have to sniff the concoction and make sure the kitchen (or at least the stove area) starts enveloping a certain, pleasant, satisfying aroma. You have GOT to let the water absorb each and every atom of flavor.
After everything has brrreeeewwwwweeddd, you add the teabag (this is of course only for black tea. The rules for green and herbal teas differ slightly but there are still important differences. Feel free to buy yourself a copy of The Tea Companion, A Connoisseur's Guide. It's a good read. However I learned the art of brewing on my own. I'm a natural.
After you pour the tea brew in the mugs, add milk (PLEASE do NOT boil the tea with the milk. I know this is the Indian/Punjabi way of making tea but this is incorrect. Tea originally did not require the addition of milk in it. Adding milk is in fact an English tradition and the rest of the world followed it like with everything else the English did. However, over time, humanity has found that adding milk to black tea gives it a nice texture and feel on the tongue. Thus it is ok to include it AFTER the tea has boiled. Boiling tea with the milk and cinnamon and all the other heavy flavors some Indians and Americans put in it RUINS the delicate flavor. You might as well have a cinnamon bun instead if you're going to do it their way.
Anyway, after you add the milk, add sugar if wanted. You must always remember to add only that amount of sugar that the tea recipient wants. Even if you think that a little bit of sugar would be helpful in bringing out the flavor, you cannot add it if the recipient does not want it because after all, we want to please the recipient. Tea making and tea enjoying is a wondrous art.
So I just had tea with alu parantha (my eating times are a little off). Here is a summarized, step by step process for tea-making:
measure one big mug of water (plus a little more) and put in pot/teapot
turn heat to medium high (but closer to medium side)
break one cardamom and add the seeds plus the skin
add about twenty fennel seeds
pinch of cinnamon (a nice touch now and then)
let it brew
BBBBBRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW
after a few minutes, stir the brew with a spoon (or stick thingie)
after another two minutes, stir the brew again (in fact, stir as often as you like)
sniff, taste the flavor with your nostrils
the water is probably boiling by now so add the teabag (black tea bag, however do not follow this process for darjeeling, ceylon or certain other teas)
then turn the heat WAY down low, the lowest you can go….sort of
let brewed tea simmer for another minute
take tea off heat and strain into mug
add milk and sugar to taste
Voila.
now sip and enjoy the delicate awakening of the nervous system.
after another two minutes, stir the brew again (in fact, stir as often as you like)
sniff, taste the flavor with your nostrils
the water is probably boiling by now so add the teabag (black tea bag, however do not follow this process for darjeeling, ceylon or certain other teas)
then turn the heat WAY down low, the lowest you can go….sort of
let brewed tea simmer for another minute
take tea off heat and strain into mug
add milk and sugar to taste
Voila.
now sip and enjoy the delicate awakening of the nervous system.
4/20/10
The View from the Ocean
..or the sailboat or the yacht or the canoe..I'm working on the title..and all the writing for that matter..
The other day we got some fortune cookies with our order of Chinese food. I love opening fortune cookies. I always take a second to make sure I pick the right one. I usually sense which one is calling to me and then I eagerly open it up to read my fortune. Then I put it in my wallet and save it.
Since we had gotten a whole bunch that night (more than we needed), I ended up opening a couple. Something was off that night. The first two fortunes I came across didn’t really resonate with me. But the next day I opened up a third one and something about the third one called to me. It said the following:
“You cannot discover new oceans unless you are willing to lose sight of the shore.”
It’s beautiful isn’t it. It’s what we’re always hearing. But it’s hard. It’s too hard for me. I couldn’t help but feel hurt and anxious and just downright stuck when I read this. But I know that this fortune wanted to come to me. It’s for me.
To lose sight of the shore, of the past, can be terrifying. To lose sight of the old beliefs, the old conditioning, the old story is downright nerve wracking. Who will I be? Where I will go now? What should I do? If I go towards the ocean, when will I see land again? Will I see mountains? How will I call for help if I need it? What if I fall into the water and die? What if...
What if I actually make it? What if I actually make it across the ocean and visit new lands? What if I learn about ocean and marine life? What if I learn to relax? What if I learn to go with the flow, the flow of the waves? What if I actually enjoy it, this ocean journey?
I noticed today that for a while now I don’t really wear makeup when I go out. There are a few strands of white hair in my hair. I used to snip them, but I don’t feel like snipping them anymore. I actually like the few strands of grey in my hair. I like looking raw, with no eyeliner no earrings, just a pair of yoga pants and a simple shirt doing my thing about my day (although sometimes I need the compact, a nice glow on your face can really boost your mood). I don’t feel like dressing up much. I just wanna be me. I just wanna be Anju, as clear as can be. I like it this way. I can’t help but think that people see me for me this way, for who I really am.
It's hard to leave the shore for the ocean. You think 'I can’t leave this shore even if it hurts to stay because that’s what I know. That’s where I built my house, my life, my belief system, I can’t just leave.' And the griefs and hurts of the past don’t leave you either, no matter how hard you try. But there comes a point where their grip slowly loosens and even though it hurts still when you think about it, the stabs feel less sharp. They start getting duller. You turn around and look at the ocean for a moment and think ‘God it’s so beautiful. It truly is. What would it be like to sail in the ocean day after day only to watch the sun rise every dawn and the sun set every evening. What would it be like to discover a new shoreline. What would it be like to build a new house there?
At the very least, you have to sit in your boat, gaze at the shoreline one last time and watch your old house turn to dust. You don’t know what life will be like in the ocean but you can’t watch the shore forever. I might as well gaze at the ashes of the past, the ashes of the shoreline as it burns away for some time. I might as well sit for a while and watch the dust sift away forever.
ye kyaa jagah hai dosto ye kaun saa dayaar hai
hadd-e-nigaah tak jahaa.N Gubaar hii Gubaar hai
The other day we got some fortune cookies with our order of Chinese food. I love opening fortune cookies. I always take a second to make sure I pick the right one. I usually sense which one is calling to me and then I eagerly open it up to read my fortune. Then I put it in my wallet and save it.
Since we had gotten a whole bunch that night (more than we needed), I ended up opening a couple. Something was off that night. The first two fortunes I came across didn’t really resonate with me. But the next day I opened up a third one and something about the third one called to me. It said the following:
“You cannot discover new oceans unless you are willing to lose sight of the shore.”
It’s beautiful isn’t it. It’s what we’re always hearing. But it’s hard. It’s too hard for me. I couldn’t help but feel hurt and anxious and just downright stuck when I read this. But I know that this fortune wanted to come to me. It’s for me.
To lose sight of the shore, of the past, can be terrifying. To lose sight of the old beliefs, the old conditioning, the old story is downright nerve wracking. Who will I be? Where I will go now? What should I do? If I go towards the ocean, when will I see land again? Will I see mountains? How will I call for help if I need it? What if I fall into the water and die? What if...
What if I actually make it? What if I actually make it across the ocean and visit new lands? What if I learn about ocean and marine life? What if I learn to relax? What if I learn to go with the flow, the flow of the waves? What if I actually enjoy it, this ocean journey?
I noticed today that for a while now I don’t really wear makeup when I go out. There are a few strands of white hair in my hair. I used to snip them, but I don’t feel like snipping them anymore. I actually like the few strands of grey in my hair. I like looking raw, with no eyeliner no earrings, just a pair of yoga pants and a simple shirt doing my thing about my day (although sometimes I need the compact, a nice glow on your face can really boost your mood). I don’t feel like dressing up much. I just wanna be me. I just wanna be Anju, as clear as can be. I like it this way. I can’t help but think that people see me for me this way, for who I really am.
It's hard to leave the shore for the ocean. You think 'I can’t leave this shore even if it hurts to stay because that’s what I know. That’s where I built my house, my life, my belief system, I can’t just leave.' And the griefs and hurts of the past don’t leave you either, no matter how hard you try. But there comes a point where their grip slowly loosens and even though it hurts still when you think about it, the stabs feel less sharp. They start getting duller. You turn around and look at the ocean for a moment and think ‘God it’s so beautiful. It truly is. What would it be like to sail in the ocean day after day only to watch the sun rise every dawn and the sun set every evening. What would it be like to discover a new shoreline. What would it be like to build a new house there?
At the very least, you have to sit in your boat, gaze at the shoreline one last time and watch your old house turn to dust. You don’t know what life will be like in the ocean but you can’t watch the shore forever. I might as well gaze at the ashes of the past, the ashes of the shoreline as it burns away for some time. I might as well sit for a while and watch the dust sift away forever.
ye kyaa jagah hai dosto ye kaun saa dayaar hai
hadd-e-nigaah tak jahaa.N Gubaar hii Gubaar hai
3/5/10
A Perspective on the Misunion between Amitabh and Rekha
You have to watch the following video before you read this entry: heartwrenching Silsila scene
Yes! I hate you Amit! I hate you! Yeh sab kyun ho gaya! Tumne aise kyun kiya! Kyun! I hate you!
Oh man. I have watched this movie like twenty times. This scene never fails to make me question the basic premise on which my whole belief system is built on. This scene never fails to make my heart cringe in utter despair and quandary because two people so deeply in love left a life of passion and foundation-building they could have explored together. This scene goes against my religion, my ritual, the thought I sleep with every night, the belief I wake up with every morning: that two people in Love will do anything for each other. That no reason, no circumstance (except for unhealthy behavior like abuse and so on), no hardship in practical reality would make either decide to leave the other. No person could even think of kissing someone else knowing that they are tied so deeply together in soul (or am I making an assumption here that they are two halves of the whole.) You just wouldn't leave and marry someone else (of course a lot of Indian people of my parents generation would beg to differ including my own parents. May I just say that I somewhat understand where they're coming from. They are indeed, the sandwich generation, stuck between their parents/old school cultural expectations and their childrens' rebellions. I truly feel bad for them. I mean look at me, I turned out all messed up. What did my mother really get out of it. Ok, back to the main point.)
In any case, I know it's just a film but this kind of thing happens. I had mentioned earlier the tragedy of the misunion between Heer and Ranjha and how the family/cultural/societal conditionings I felt ultimately caused their downfall. But then I also questioned whether they really could have done something different in order to finally be together. I pose the same questions relevant to the story of Silsila: why did Amitabh and Rekha truly break apart? Did Amitabh really have to marry the woman who would have become his sister-in-law had his brother not died in a tragic plane crash? Did he truly have to marry the then-pregnant Jaya who was left alone with no future and no man? Was there an alternative? Were he, Jaya, and Jaya's mother just not willing to face the cruel judgments that would come from an Indian society toward a woman out of wedlock? What was the real motive? Why did he leave Rekha? Did he pity Jaya? If so,why did his love for Rekha not defeat his feelings of pity for Jaya? Why did he really feel stuck? Did he feel guilty for what his brother left behind? Was Amitabh truly a strong man? Did he really have to take the situation into his own hands especially since neither Jaya's father was alive nor were his parents there to help? Was he truly dutiful? Did he do the right thing?
And most importantly, why did Amitabh think that it was truly worth breaking Rekha's heart?
As you can tell, I came out of the womb asking 'why' 'why 'why' 'why this' 'why that' and I just can't seem to stop. So why? Rekha and Amitabh are such a hot couple together. Honestly, even in real life they should have been together. Damn. They are fine.
To further support why I think they should have been together, please watch the following interview where Rekha talks about her feelings for Amit ji: Interview
See what I mean. Even though she said it in a bit of a convoluted way, she obviously loves him like a lover. By the way, isn't Rekha just ravishing. Wow. Absolute Goddess.
And guess which song she chose to sing on the spot: Song
Anyway, I have had various discussions about the endings of films such as Silsila and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam with friends where I felt that the lovers should have ended up together and my friends felt otherwise. In the case of Hum Dil de Chuke Sanam, I truly feel that Aishwarya and Salman got totally gipped. They so deserved to be together. It's Aishwarya's stubborn and ignorant-headed father who made Salman leave (because he threatened Salman that he would sit on him and crush him to pieces) so what else could Salman do. He had to go. And then Aishwarya married Ajay Devgan and lived a life of boring wifehood.
But in the case of Silsila, I do believe the following: that Amitabh and Rekha had the potential to be a firecracker of a couple. They would have been dynamite. I mean it would have been poetry and chocolates every day. They would have oozed sensuality wherever they went and people wouldn't have been able to stop ogling at them. Sigh. But somehow it didn't happen. Here are possible reasons why:
1) Rekha is quite possibly mangalik, so Amitabh had unconscious fears about being with her due to this particular astrological reason.
2) Rekha's hair always got stuck in his watch when they made love so it was just too much of a hassle to deal with.
3) hmmmm....
4) Amitabh didn't think Rekha would approve of that song he sang with Shekhar that one night they got drunk: "Neeche paan ki dukaan, uppar gori ka makaan, zara jhoom jhoom ke, zara jhoom jhoom ke.."
5) hmmmm...
Ok no seriously, I think confusion and fear played a part. He may have had some unconscious anxieties around his relationship with Rekha and he just didn't go through the psychotherapy to deal with it. Or maybe he truly felt that it was his duty not just as a man, but as a brother to help his dead brother out. Maybe he didn't fully grieve the death of his brother; maybe he felt Jaya was a piece of his brother and that by being close to Jaya he would be close to his brother in some convoluted psychological effed-up way. Or maybe by marrying Jaya, Amitabh felt like he could somehow keep a control over his emotions and his life so that he didn't have to fall into a pit of despair, confusion, grief and overwhelmingness over his brother's death. Or maybe the Law of Attraction was at work here. Or maybe...maybe...maybe.......
So this is what I'm thinking. After all the pondering, to be honest, I just don't know. I don't know why Amitabh didn't choose Rekha. I guess it just is what it is. And what I've realized further is that quite possibly it isn't important to know why. At least not yet. Maybe it's ok not to know why things happen or don't happen for the time being.
Breather......
You can't tell anyone what to do. You can't tell any pair of people that what they have is deep and True and the real thing. You have to figure that out for yourself. Maybe Amitabh felt that Rekha wasn't truly his other half. Maybe he found something in Jaya that he felt he needed. Or maybe Amitabh and Rekha were truly two halves of the same whole but it just wasn't meant to be in this lifetime (either in the film or in real life): Sacred contracts. Maybe they contracted before they came into the planet that they would meet, have some experiences with each other, go through the emotions, learn whatever they had to and then move on. Maybe they'll meet in body and mind in the next life. Or maybe, just maybe......they didn't grab the potential!
Maybe Amitabh didn't know how to fulfill the potential after his brother died. Alternatively, maybe he didn't care for the real thing. Maybe he didn't want her anymore. Maybe he didn't care for a life of bliss and passion. Maybe Amitabh thought it was worth breaking Rekha's heart because it just was. Maybe he had no balls. That's just what he wanted to do. We all do what we want in the end don't we?
You know I don't think there's anything wrong with a man feeling fear. I know men are told to be brave all the time and that they're not supposed to cry. Of course this varies a bit from culture to culture. One time my dad and I were talking about some life difficulty and he said something like "and I can't even cry because I'm a man." And I thought whoa. That's gotta be rough. It's gotta be rough to not be able to cry. Sometimes we cry not only because we're hurt but because we're confused and scared and fearful. Sometimes we just cry because we cry. We don't have to have a reason for why we feel the way we do. We just feel the way we do. So for God's sakes, let men cry. Let them feel. Let them feel their suffering, let them FEEL the fear. Let them have their journey. Let them find their way (oh dear, I'm starting to get dramatic.)
Things just happened so fast for Amitabh. I wonder if he had let himself feel the fear, the hurt, the loss, and the grief from losing his brother, things would have been different. I just can't help but feel that his brother's death had a huge impact on his state of mind at the time. I wonder if he could have just held off a bit and not made any decisions. I wonder had he sent a letter to Rekha that instead of saying 'I can't be with you anymore because..." said "Look, something horrible has happened. Something terrible. I'm confused. Can you help me." I wonder if things could have been different. I wonder if Rekha could have helped him see more clearly.
Honestly I don't know how they did it. I don't know how Amitabh and Rekha went on to live their lives without each other. I can't fathom it. I personally don't agree with the ending of the film. Suddenly Amitabh and Rekha don't want each other (after they decided they did while they were married because they felt they had got gipped) after Rekha's husband almost die in the plane crash. Oh well, maybe Rekha was fearful too. Maybe that's why she needed him so badly. But then again I didn't make the story. I can't tell them to be together. They chose. They both chose in the end to stay with their spouses. They didn't choose each other. That's just the way it has to be. That's just the way it has to be even though I feel it is an utter tragedy.
That's just what happens when....hmmm....
[some sort of insert]
Oh wait...I've had an epiphany: Amitabh messed up. He didn't have any balls. The man couldn't control his emotions and ended up making decisions out of his fear and self-absorption. I guess that's what happens when you can't get it up. Duh, right? Gee thanks Amitabh. Thanks for leading Rekha on, real smooth, you're a real man, you're a reeaaalllll man.
Anyway....
This is a perspective on the misunion between Amitabh and Rekha: star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start.
Neela aasmaan so gaya...
Yes! I hate you Amit! I hate you! Yeh sab kyun ho gaya! Tumne aise kyun kiya! Kyun! I hate you!
Oh man. I have watched this movie like twenty times. This scene never fails to make me question the basic premise on which my whole belief system is built on. This scene never fails to make my heart cringe in utter despair and quandary because two people so deeply in love left a life of passion and foundation-building they could have explored together. This scene goes against my religion, my ritual, the thought I sleep with every night, the belief I wake up with every morning: that two people in Love will do anything for each other. That no reason, no circumstance (except for unhealthy behavior like abuse and so on), no hardship in practical reality would make either decide to leave the other. No person could even think of kissing someone else knowing that they are tied so deeply together in soul (or am I making an assumption here that they are two halves of the whole.) You just wouldn't leave and marry someone else (of course a lot of Indian people of my parents generation would beg to differ including my own parents. May I just say that I somewhat understand where they're coming from. They are indeed, the sandwich generation, stuck between their parents/old school cultural expectations and their childrens' rebellions. I truly feel bad for them. I mean look at me, I turned out all messed up. What did my mother really get out of it. Ok, back to the main point.)
In any case, I know it's just a film but this kind of thing happens. I had mentioned earlier the tragedy of the misunion between Heer and Ranjha and how the family/cultural/societal conditionings I felt ultimately caused their downfall. But then I also questioned whether they really could have done something different in order to finally be together. I pose the same questions relevant to the story of Silsila: why did Amitabh and Rekha truly break apart? Did Amitabh really have to marry the woman who would have become his sister-in-law had his brother not died in a tragic plane crash? Did he truly have to marry the then-pregnant Jaya who was left alone with no future and no man? Was there an alternative? Were he, Jaya, and Jaya's mother just not willing to face the cruel judgments that would come from an Indian society toward a woman out of wedlock? What was the real motive? Why did he leave Rekha? Did he pity Jaya? If so,why did his love for Rekha not defeat his feelings of pity for Jaya? Why did he really feel stuck? Did he feel guilty for what his brother left behind? Was Amitabh truly a strong man? Did he really have to take the situation into his own hands especially since neither Jaya's father was alive nor were his parents there to help? Was he truly dutiful? Did he do the right thing?
And most importantly, why did Amitabh think that it was truly worth breaking Rekha's heart?
As you can tell, I came out of the womb asking 'why' 'why 'why' 'why this' 'why that' and I just can't seem to stop. So why? Rekha and Amitabh are such a hot couple together. Honestly, even in real life they should have been together. Damn. They are fine.
To further support why I think they should have been together, please watch the following interview where Rekha talks about her feelings for Amit ji: Interview
See what I mean. Even though she said it in a bit of a convoluted way, she obviously loves him like a lover. By the way, isn't Rekha just ravishing. Wow. Absolute Goddess.
And guess which song she chose to sing on the spot: Song
Anyway, I have had various discussions about the endings of films such as Silsila and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam with friends where I felt that the lovers should have ended up together and my friends felt otherwise. In the case of Hum Dil de Chuke Sanam, I truly feel that Aishwarya and Salman got totally gipped. They so deserved to be together. It's Aishwarya's stubborn and ignorant-headed father who made Salman leave (because he threatened Salman that he would sit on him and crush him to pieces) so what else could Salman do. He had to go. And then Aishwarya married Ajay Devgan and lived a life of boring wifehood.
But in the case of Silsila, I do believe the following: that Amitabh and Rekha had the potential to be a firecracker of a couple. They would have been dynamite. I mean it would have been poetry and chocolates every day. They would have oozed sensuality wherever they went and people wouldn't have been able to stop ogling at them. Sigh. But somehow it didn't happen. Here are possible reasons why:
1) Rekha is quite possibly mangalik, so Amitabh had unconscious fears about being with her due to this particular astrological reason.
2) Rekha's hair always got stuck in his watch when they made love so it was just too much of a hassle to deal with.
3) hmmmm....
4) Amitabh didn't think Rekha would approve of that song he sang with Shekhar that one night they got drunk: "Neeche paan ki dukaan, uppar gori ka makaan, zara jhoom jhoom ke, zara jhoom jhoom ke.."
5) hmmmm...
Ok no seriously, I think confusion and fear played a part. He may have had some unconscious anxieties around his relationship with Rekha and he just didn't go through the psychotherapy to deal with it. Or maybe he truly felt that it was his duty not just as a man, but as a brother to help his dead brother out. Maybe he didn't fully grieve the death of his brother; maybe he felt Jaya was a piece of his brother and that by being close to Jaya he would be close to his brother in some convoluted psychological effed-up way. Or maybe by marrying Jaya, Amitabh felt like he could somehow keep a control over his emotions and his life so that he didn't have to fall into a pit of despair, confusion, grief and overwhelmingness over his brother's death. Or maybe the Law of Attraction was at work here. Or maybe...maybe...maybe.......
So this is what I'm thinking. After all the pondering, to be honest, I just don't know. I don't know why Amitabh didn't choose Rekha. I guess it just is what it is. And what I've realized further is that quite possibly it isn't important to know why. At least not yet. Maybe it's ok not to know why things happen or don't happen for the time being.
Breather......
You can't tell anyone what to do. You can't tell any pair of people that what they have is deep and True and the real thing. You have to figure that out for yourself. Maybe Amitabh felt that Rekha wasn't truly his other half. Maybe he found something in Jaya that he felt he needed. Or maybe Amitabh and Rekha were truly two halves of the same whole but it just wasn't meant to be in this lifetime (either in the film or in real life): Sacred contracts. Maybe they contracted before they came into the planet that they would meet, have some experiences with each other, go through the emotions, learn whatever they had to and then move on. Maybe they'll meet in body and mind in the next life. Or maybe, just maybe......they didn't grab the potential!
Maybe Amitabh didn't know how to fulfill the potential after his brother died. Alternatively, maybe he didn't care for the real thing. Maybe he didn't want her anymore. Maybe he didn't care for a life of bliss and passion. Maybe Amitabh thought it was worth breaking Rekha's heart because it just was. Maybe he had no balls. That's just what he wanted to do. We all do what we want in the end don't we?
You know I don't think there's anything wrong with a man feeling fear. I know men are told to be brave all the time and that they're not supposed to cry. Of course this varies a bit from culture to culture. One time my dad and I were talking about some life difficulty and he said something like "and I can't even cry because I'm a man." And I thought whoa. That's gotta be rough. It's gotta be rough to not be able to cry. Sometimes we cry not only because we're hurt but because we're confused and scared and fearful. Sometimes we just cry because we cry. We don't have to have a reason for why we feel the way we do. We just feel the way we do. So for God's sakes, let men cry. Let them feel. Let them feel their suffering, let them FEEL the fear. Let them have their journey. Let them find their way (oh dear, I'm starting to get dramatic.)
Things just happened so fast for Amitabh. I wonder if he had let himself feel the fear, the hurt, the loss, and the grief from losing his brother, things would have been different. I just can't help but feel that his brother's death had a huge impact on his state of mind at the time. I wonder if he could have just held off a bit and not made any decisions. I wonder had he sent a letter to Rekha that instead of saying 'I can't be with you anymore because..." said "Look, something horrible has happened. Something terrible. I'm confused. Can you help me." I wonder if things could have been different. I wonder if Rekha could have helped him see more clearly.
Honestly I don't know how they did it. I don't know how Amitabh and Rekha went on to live their lives without each other. I can't fathom it. I personally don't agree with the ending of the film. Suddenly Amitabh and Rekha don't want each other (after they decided they did while they were married because they felt they had got gipped) after Rekha's husband almost die in the plane crash. Oh well, maybe Rekha was fearful too. Maybe that's why she needed him so badly. But then again I didn't make the story. I can't tell them to be together. They chose. They both chose in the end to stay with their spouses. They didn't choose each other. That's just the way it has to be. That's just the way it has to be even though I feel it is an utter tragedy.
That's just what happens when....hmmm....
[some sort of insert]
Oh wait...I've had an epiphany: Amitabh messed up. He didn't have any balls. The man couldn't control his emotions and ended up making decisions out of his fear and self-absorption. I guess that's what happens when you can't get it up. Duh, right? Gee thanks Amitabh. Thanks for leading Rekha on, real smooth, you're a real man, you're a reeaaalllll man.
Anyway....
This is a perspective on the misunion between Amitabh and Rekha: star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start.
Neela aasmaan so gaya...
3/1/10
The Mountain View
"He who wants to do good knocks at the gate:
he who loves finds the door open."
- Rabindranath Tagore
The view from the mountain top is always the clearest. It's the most beautiful. This is where the air is the purest, where you get a complete 360 degree panoramic view, where you see with the utmost of clarity. The peak of the mountain is where everyone is eventually headed. This is where our freedom lies.
The task of climbing a mountain seems quite daunting and incredibly challenging at first. You think to yourself, how the heck am I ever going to get to the top. How am I going to climb the steepest of slopes, the sharpest of angles, and will I really be able to rest and sleep in the coldest of caves. What if my shoes tear or what if I break a bone. What if a bear comes after me and eats me. What if a big boulder comes sliding down the hill and smushes me to smithereens. What if I can't find anything to eat after I've eaten all the granola bars I packed in my backpack. Most importantly, what if I die?
So first you have to decide whether you want to even climb the mountain. Is it something you really want to do. Is it worth the risk? You have to say either yes or no. So let's actually do this. You have five seconds to choose yes or no. Ready? Go. One...two...three...four...five. Ok. If you chose yes, read on. If you chose no, God help you.
So now that we want to climb the mountain, we have to understand that the journey begins with the first step according to a famous Chinese proverb. So here we go. Start. Right foot, left foot, right, left. There! We already took four steps. See that wasn't so bad. We're at the base of the mountain. We're already making progress. By the way, I hope you brought lots of pairs of dry socks with you. Wet, muddy socks are no good on a mountain climb. I'm also assuming we have somewhat of a basic skill set in mountain climbing (this is all metaphoric of course.)
Next we have to realize that we will have to remain determined and focused. We will have to keep our goal at the forefront of our minds at all times (even in our sleep.) Our goal is to reach the top of the mountain. At no time can you say 'ok, there are worms climbing up my leg and into my buttcrack and I'm not enjoying this anymore and this was a bad idea and it's too hard, so I'm giving up and going back to the bottom of the mountain.' No. You made a commitment to climb the mountain so you have to do it. Whether it takes you five days or five months, you will have to climb the mountain. Nobody said it was going to be fun all the time. This is work, it's a challenge. No pain, no gain.
Then we have to realize that we will need to incorporate some strategy into our mountain climbing. We will need maps with us as well as pens and pencils, compasses, sharp sticks to clear away brush, a feel for the land and inclines, and a sharp eye for animals who may not like us trespassing their territories. Our minds will need to be sharp and our muscles will have to be strong. Oh yea, I just remembered about the insect repellant and bug sprays. Please don't forget those either.
Also, the journey will require patience. There will be work to do but there will also be times of rest and reflection, of literally just waiting around and watching the clouds go by. We may need to cross several mountain passes throughout the journey but there might be a herd of mountain goats who won't let us go through. We can say 'shoo' all we want but the goats may not move. We'll just have to make a request and wait until they finally budge. You might as well enjoy the break and take a nap or sing a mountain song of some kind. But there has to be a balance - a balance between action and resting, between action and surrendering.
Now, I will interject and speak as Anjali, my alter ego. I feel that at this point in my life, I'm pretty near to the top of the mountain. I made the decision to climb it. I packed a heavy backpack with lots of socks and granola bars (as well as bagels and hot chocolate) and I had with me a good skill set as well as a strategy as to how I was going to traverse the rough mountain terrain. It was hard. In fact, hard isn't even the word. It was arduously difficult and terribly painful at times and downright frightening. I missed many boulders by just a couple feet and quite a few bears didn't think I should stay alive. Many ants bit my ass and some mountain crows unfortunately thought I was dead while sleeping. However, I persevered. There were times I thought my legs would break from the hundreds of blisters and scratches and hours and hours of climbing I had to do. The thought of giving up definetely crossed my mind. But once you start, there is no point of return. You can't go back. The call for freedom is too strong.
But like I said I'm near the top, I'm not there yet. Because the thing I realized I've been missing is patience (I can't believe I'm actually admitting this. argh.) I'm not saying I didn't have any of it, but I didn't have enough. In fact, I very much despise this word. I don't understand why we have to have much of it in life. But I realized recently (or more like again someone helped me realize) that just because you have to wait for the mountain goats to pass doesn't mean that nothing is happening. It doesn't necessarily mean that you aren't making progress on the journey. It might actually just be a part of the journey and there is some kind of movement underneath what is appearing on the surface. You don't always have to move. You can't dance all the time, you can't sing 24 hours a day. You have to sleep, you have to eat, you have to reflect, you have to chill sometimes. You have to just be. You have to be patient.
I guess this seems pretty simple to most people however this is my personal challenge. I'm not perfect and I'm just a human being and like anyone else I'm just learning along the way. But it's hard. God gave me a lot of energy. It's hard sometimes to figure out what to do with it.
Ok the voice of Anjali is leaving now and the other voice is back. So another thing you have to keep in mind along the journey up the mountain is that you can't take anything that isn't yours. Like you might see some berries in a small field but you have to make sure that those berries are for the general public. That those berries are in fact for you to have and eat. If you see a bunch of berries say under a tree covered under some leaves, you better believe that some animal probably stored them there. You can't take those berries. You can only pick the berries off the stems of the berry plants.
Back to alter ego Anjali. So when I was a little girl, my mom would often make rasgullas which I really love, for dinner parties my parents would host at our house. She would make them for dessert beforehand to serve the guests and often warned me not to eat them when she stored them in the refrigerator. She made a little separate bowl for me and put it in the fridge and told me that I could have the rasgulles in the little bowl but not the ones in the bigger one for the guests: that it was strictly off limits. Only for the guests. But I love rasgullas. So much. How could I possibly have only a few. So I didn't listen to my mother. What ended up happening is that there was only a handful of rasgullas left in the big bowl in the refrigerator the morning of the party. My mom was never happy about that. The dessert was basically gone.
Anyway I truly felt deep down inside that no one would be able to appreciate the rasgullas as much as me. No one would be able to love them as much or as well as me. So I really didn't think the guests should have them. They were mine. The rasgullas always called to me. I couldn't help but personify the rasgullas and think that they loved me too. They wanted to be eaten by me and me only. What I realize further now is that the refrigerator door was open. It wasn't closed. The door of the refrigerator was open to me even though in practical reality it was closed. Only she who loves finds the door open.
Nature is not so simple to understand. Human nature. Mountain nature. They're just not simple to understand. You may have enough granola bars, bagels and mountain meat to keep your hunger satisfied, but by God if you see a bowl of red berries shining and glistening so bright in the Sunlight, would you pick them and eat them? What do you do. What should you do. Are you seeing them for a reason? Could they possibly be yours to eat?
Ok now Anjali is leaving and the other voice is back again. In any case, you have to continue onwards to the top. That was the goal. That is always the goal. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. If you look at alter ego Anjali over here, you will see that she made a bunch of mistakes along the way. She made assumptions about the degree of angles of certain inclines and ended up spraining her ankles as she tried to climb them. She took it personally that the crows tried to eat her even though they really thought she was genuinely dead. You must watch out for these traps. But don't be too hard on yourself. You're on this mountain to make mistakes.
And finally the last thing you have to remember is the following: you must be willing to defend and walk your journey at all cost. You might lose everything and everyone. You must be brave. You must live your purpose of reaching the top with courage and fierce strength. Don't let disappointment and discouraging situations bring you down. You must realize that this journey is to the top, to where the Truth is. This is where you will see yourself in the brightest of Clarities, in the deepest of Loves.
So it won't be too long before we reach the top. It won't be long before we get to enjoy the Mountain View.
It won't be long before we taste Freedom.
he who loves finds the door open."
- Rabindranath Tagore
The view from the mountain top is always the clearest. It's the most beautiful. This is where the air is the purest, where you get a complete 360 degree panoramic view, where you see with the utmost of clarity. The peak of the mountain is where everyone is eventually headed. This is where our freedom lies.
The task of climbing a mountain seems quite daunting and incredibly challenging at first. You think to yourself, how the heck am I ever going to get to the top. How am I going to climb the steepest of slopes, the sharpest of angles, and will I really be able to rest and sleep in the coldest of caves. What if my shoes tear or what if I break a bone. What if a bear comes after me and eats me. What if a big boulder comes sliding down the hill and smushes me to smithereens. What if I can't find anything to eat after I've eaten all the granola bars I packed in my backpack. Most importantly, what if I die?
So first you have to decide whether you want to even climb the mountain. Is it something you really want to do. Is it worth the risk? You have to say either yes or no. So let's actually do this. You have five seconds to choose yes or no. Ready? Go. One...two...three...four...five. Ok. If you chose yes, read on. If you chose no, God help you.
So now that we want to climb the mountain, we have to understand that the journey begins with the first step according to a famous Chinese proverb. So here we go. Start. Right foot, left foot, right, left. There! We already took four steps. See that wasn't so bad. We're at the base of the mountain. We're already making progress. By the way, I hope you brought lots of pairs of dry socks with you. Wet, muddy socks are no good on a mountain climb. I'm also assuming we have somewhat of a basic skill set in mountain climbing (this is all metaphoric of course.)
Next we have to realize that we will have to remain determined and focused. We will have to keep our goal at the forefront of our minds at all times (even in our sleep.) Our goal is to reach the top of the mountain. At no time can you say 'ok, there are worms climbing up my leg and into my buttcrack and I'm not enjoying this anymore and this was a bad idea and it's too hard, so I'm giving up and going back to the bottom of the mountain.' No. You made a commitment to climb the mountain so you have to do it. Whether it takes you five days or five months, you will have to climb the mountain. Nobody said it was going to be fun all the time. This is work, it's a challenge. No pain, no gain.
Then we have to realize that we will need to incorporate some strategy into our mountain climbing. We will need maps with us as well as pens and pencils, compasses, sharp sticks to clear away brush, a feel for the land and inclines, and a sharp eye for animals who may not like us trespassing their territories. Our minds will need to be sharp and our muscles will have to be strong. Oh yea, I just remembered about the insect repellant and bug sprays. Please don't forget those either.
Also, the journey will require patience. There will be work to do but there will also be times of rest and reflection, of literally just waiting around and watching the clouds go by. We may need to cross several mountain passes throughout the journey but there might be a herd of mountain goats who won't let us go through. We can say 'shoo' all we want but the goats may not move. We'll just have to make a request and wait until they finally budge. You might as well enjoy the break and take a nap or sing a mountain song of some kind. But there has to be a balance - a balance between action and resting, between action and surrendering.
Now, I will interject and speak as Anjali, my alter ego. I feel that at this point in my life, I'm pretty near to the top of the mountain. I made the decision to climb it. I packed a heavy backpack with lots of socks and granola bars (as well as bagels and hot chocolate) and I had with me a good skill set as well as a strategy as to how I was going to traverse the rough mountain terrain. It was hard. In fact, hard isn't even the word. It was arduously difficult and terribly painful at times and downright frightening. I missed many boulders by just a couple feet and quite a few bears didn't think I should stay alive. Many ants bit my ass and some mountain crows unfortunately thought I was dead while sleeping. However, I persevered. There were times I thought my legs would break from the hundreds of blisters and scratches and hours and hours of climbing I had to do. The thought of giving up definetely crossed my mind. But once you start, there is no point of return. You can't go back. The call for freedom is too strong.
But like I said I'm near the top, I'm not there yet. Because the thing I realized I've been missing is patience (I can't believe I'm actually admitting this. argh.) I'm not saying I didn't have any of it, but I didn't have enough. In fact, I very much despise this word. I don't understand why we have to have much of it in life. But I realized recently (or more like again someone helped me realize) that just because you have to wait for the mountain goats to pass doesn't mean that nothing is happening. It doesn't necessarily mean that you aren't making progress on the journey. It might actually just be a part of the journey and there is some kind of movement underneath what is appearing on the surface. You don't always have to move. You can't dance all the time, you can't sing 24 hours a day. You have to sleep, you have to eat, you have to reflect, you have to chill sometimes. You have to just be. You have to be patient.
I guess this seems pretty simple to most people however this is my personal challenge. I'm not perfect and I'm just a human being and like anyone else I'm just learning along the way. But it's hard. God gave me a lot of energy. It's hard sometimes to figure out what to do with it.
Ok the voice of Anjali is leaving now and the other voice is back. So another thing you have to keep in mind along the journey up the mountain is that you can't take anything that isn't yours. Like you might see some berries in a small field but you have to make sure that those berries are for the general public. That those berries are in fact for you to have and eat. If you see a bunch of berries say under a tree covered under some leaves, you better believe that some animal probably stored them there. You can't take those berries. You can only pick the berries off the stems of the berry plants.
Back to alter ego Anjali. So when I was a little girl, my mom would often make rasgullas which I really love, for dinner parties my parents would host at our house. She would make them for dessert beforehand to serve the guests and often warned me not to eat them when she stored them in the refrigerator. She made a little separate bowl for me and put it in the fridge and told me that I could have the rasgulles in the little bowl but not the ones in the bigger one for the guests: that it was strictly off limits. Only for the guests. But I love rasgullas. So much. How could I possibly have only a few. So I didn't listen to my mother. What ended up happening is that there was only a handful of rasgullas left in the big bowl in the refrigerator the morning of the party. My mom was never happy about that. The dessert was basically gone.
Anyway I truly felt deep down inside that no one would be able to appreciate the rasgullas as much as me. No one would be able to love them as much or as well as me. So I really didn't think the guests should have them. They were mine. The rasgullas always called to me. I couldn't help but personify the rasgullas and think that they loved me too. They wanted to be eaten by me and me only. What I realize further now is that the refrigerator door was open. It wasn't closed. The door of the refrigerator was open to me even though in practical reality it was closed. Only she who loves finds the door open.
Nature is not so simple to understand. Human nature. Mountain nature. They're just not simple to understand. You may have enough granola bars, bagels and mountain meat to keep your hunger satisfied, but by God if you see a bowl of red berries shining and glistening so bright in the Sunlight, would you pick them and eat them? What do you do. What should you do. Are you seeing them for a reason? Could they possibly be yours to eat?
Ok now Anjali is leaving and the other voice is back again. In any case, you have to continue onwards to the top. That was the goal. That is always the goal. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. If you look at alter ego Anjali over here, you will see that she made a bunch of mistakes along the way. She made assumptions about the degree of angles of certain inclines and ended up spraining her ankles as she tried to climb them. She took it personally that the crows tried to eat her even though they really thought she was genuinely dead. You must watch out for these traps. But don't be too hard on yourself. You're on this mountain to make mistakes.
And finally the last thing you have to remember is the following: you must be willing to defend and walk your journey at all cost. You might lose everything and everyone. You must be brave. You must live your purpose of reaching the top with courage and fierce strength. Don't let disappointment and discouraging situations bring you down. You must realize that this journey is to the top, to where the Truth is. This is where you will see yourself in the brightest of Clarities, in the deepest of Loves.
So it won't be too long before we reach the top. It won't be long before we get to enjoy the Mountain View.
It won't be long before we taste Freedom.
2/25/10
The Streets of Chandigarh
Sometimes I wish I could leave my life right now and travel back to the 80's and 90's when we went to India. I wish I could just experience even two weeks of my life back when it was utter happiness and joy. Life sucks but to be honest, I had a great childhood. If I were to describe it in one word, it would be Fun. Lots and lots of fun. I kinda feel like going down Memory Lane today.
On the plane rides to India, me and Preeti would have our coloring books and writing pads ready to create lists of everything we needed to buy: chudiyan of all colors, 8 suits, 4 lehngas, 2 Punjabi jootis, purses, bindis, liquid eyeliners, matching earrings with our suits, and of course, ladus. I miss the days when all you had to worry about was which yet to be bought chudiya and earrings were going to match your yet to be bought suits.
After landing, we couldn't wait to leave the airport. I remember how my Mama ji's face looked as he carried my bags. And then he'd drive us home and I'd see Nani and Mami ji and all the cousins. We'd spend some days in Delhi and then travel to Chandigah in the shtabdi (those samosas in the shtabdi are damn good.) Then we'd go see Bee ji first and Tayi ji would have the paneer dishes ready. Taya ji would always take us the to the little Shiva/Ganesh temple in our home and say a few prayers. Shelly didi and I wouldn't stop hugging each other. We would laugh and eat and talk on for hours. It was as if we were all so thirsty for each other and we had finally quenched our thirst.
The following days in Chandigarh were always a blast. Tayi ji would make tons of paneer dishes because that was Preeti's favorite dish. We had all kinds of paneer: saag paneer, paneer makhni, paneer with shimla mirch, matar paneer and others I can't even remember. Shelly didi would take me and Preeti all over the place. We'd go shopping in Sector 17 at Phulkari and Kohinoor and then we'd have sweets and dosas at Sindhi Sweets. We'd go to the music store and listen to Informer playing through the speakers : ) We'd go to Hot Millions and eat paneer kababs (see what I mean about the paneer) and have chocolate fudge sundaes for dessert in these huge beer mugs. We loved riding on the Kinetic Honda with Shelly. We'd go for long drives around Chandigarh (one time we went for a ride around the Sukhna lake and it was really hot and we were really thirsty so we stopped to get some Thumbs Up. Preeti for some reason was particularly thirsty so she drank TWO thumbs up bottles real fast. Me and Shelly were kinda suprised cause my sister was a little scrawny and skinny as a kid and were wondering how her stomach could handle all that coke. Anyways, we got back on the Honda and started driving. But guess what happened a few minutes later. My sister started screaming and saying "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" We were like, what the heck! What is happening! So we all got off the Honda and Shelly started slapping Preeti's back to help her breathe (Punjabis always think that any problem can be solved with some sort of force). Then all of a sudden, Preeti let out the HUGEST of belches you've ever heard. We were shocked - how could such a humongous burp come out of something so small. That damn Thumbs Up did her good. Then we got back on the Honda and it was time to go home.)
This is also the reason I don't understand why Punjab always runs out of electricity. Punjabis are the greatest of gas makers. Why don't you just line 'em up in a factory and use all that gas for good purposes. But no that would be too efficient of a process for the Indians. Jeez Louise. Anyways I'm getting off track.
I miss all the mischief me and Tinku sported with Nani. I miss how she used to wave her cane in the air warning us to get down from the side walls of the veranda at the house we had managed to climb in Sector 19. I miss how Preeti used to be a goody two shoes around her and made us look like imps. I miss how we used to walk to the mandir with Nani in the evenings (primarily to get boondi as prasad. What, I couldn't help it. I love sweets.)
I miss how my other Mama ji would tell me not to eat too much ketchup. I miss how I would stand outside the front door waiting for him to come home, how I used to follow him around the house looking for any chocolate he might have brought home for me. I miss the sight of him driving his pale blue scooter through the streets of Delhi. I hope he's happy playing cricket up in Heaven now.
I miss how you get those massive pimple-looking blisters from the ants that bit you in the eye during the night. I miss how you stupidly got bit by those ants by choosing to sleep outside. I miss how you can't fall asleep outside because the moon is so bright in the sky or because there is a Jagran in the distance. I even miss waking up and having to take a dump in the toilets built in the ground. It's all about reestablishing your connection to the Earth.
I miss the beautiful garden that Taya ji created. I miss how I used to hang around in the balcony upstairs and watch the guys play sports at the DAV school grounds across the street. I miss all the singing and the dholki playing for ten days straight before Lilly didi's wedding. I miss all the Thursday morning poojas with Baba ji in the house. I miss the abundance of marigolds that were strewn for his arrival and the bright orange ladus you got after the pooja.
So I have to admit I have another fantasy. I feel like I'm really exposing myself but I'm sort of becoming the type of person who doesn't have much to hide anymore. I would love to get engaged in Chandigarh one day. Maybe at Khyber or Taj. I would have all my family, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins there. It would be a dream come true (I know however, that I will have to keep cotton in my ears during the whole party because of the high decibel nature of the Punjabi event.) And then the next day, I wanna ride on a Kinetic Honda with my fiance through the streets of Chandigarh. It'll be like in the hindi movies. He'll be driving and I'll be holding him tight and my hair will be flying in the air and we'll sing romantic hindi songs. And if he doesn't sing them, I'm gonna punch him in the arm.
I miss the hot afternoon strolls through the rock garden and gazing at such interesting creations made out of stone. I miss running through the rose gardens and imagining I was in the movie Silsila being Rekha romancing with Amitabh. I miss watching movies in the Kiran theater and complaining about them out loud but secretly enjoying them. I miss the best-mango-shakes-I've-ever-had in Sector 22. I miss just exploring and living happily and just being free.
Oh yeah and then me and the fiance are gonna go to the rose garden and sing "Yeh Kahaaaaaaaaan Aa Gaye Hummmmm...Yoohi saath saath chalte." And then like Amitabh, he'll say "Ha! Hum ko Mohabbat hai, mohabbat hai, mohabbat!"
Oh yea I forgot to talk about the journey back home when we left India. I used to hate having to leave. I never wanted to leave my cousins. We were so spoiled with love there and treated like princesses. We were given so much time and so much attention and we had so much fun that I didn't want to come back home. So usually about a week before we had to leave, I would get these real yucky feelings in the pit of my stomach. And the mood used to mellow out a bit. Everyone would start getting a little quiet because we knew the inevitable was coming. We had to go home.
I usually got pretty quiet the day we had to leave. We would drive to the airport and my Mama ji's face would be all droopy and there would be a deep sadness in his eyes. Mami ji wouldn't say much to me either except through her eyes. And then mom would start crying and there would be big Punjabi hugs at the airport. I never liked to cry in front of everyone so I would hold the tears back real tight.
Then we'd get in the plane and me and Preeti would take out our coloring books and writing pads again. The plane would take off but Preeti always fell asleep (she loves to sleep). But I would stay up and start writing. I hate goodbyes but it's far easier for me to write them than to say them.
I would write something like the following: "Dear India, my beloved, thank you so much for such a wonderful time. As I leave the country, there is a hole so deep in my heart it is hard to breathe. But I must leave now. I must go back to America where my home is. My friends probably miss me. I will love you forever. Good bye Mama ji. Good bye Shelly didi. Good bye Taya ji and Tayi ji. Good bye Nani and Tinku. Good bye gol gupes and papdi chaat. Good bye my dear Chandigarh...good bye Delhi.....
...good....bye.....India!"
On the plane rides to India, me and Preeti would have our coloring books and writing pads ready to create lists of everything we needed to buy: chudiyan of all colors, 8 suits, 4 lehngas, 2 Punjabi jootis, purses, bindis, liquid eyeliners, matching earrings with our suits, and of course, ladus. I miss the days when all you had to worry about was which yet to be bought chudiya and earrings were going to match your yet to be bought suits.
After landing, we couldn't wait to leave the airport. I remember how my Mama ji's face looked as he carried my bags. And then he'd drive us home and I'd see Nani and Mami ji and all the cousins. We'd spend some days in Delhi and then travel to Chandigah in the shtabdi (those samosas in the shtabdi are damn good.) Then we'd go see Bee ji first and Tayi ji would have the paneer dishes ready. Taya ji would always take us the to the little Shiva/Ganesh temple in our home and say a few prayers. Shelly didi and I wouldn't stop hugging each other. We would laugh and eat and talk on for hours. It was as if we were all so thirsty for each other and we had finally quenched our thirst.
The following days in Chandigarh were always a blast. Tayi ji would make tons of paneer dishes because that was Preeti's favorite dish. We had all kinds of paneer: saag paneer, paneer makhni, paneer with shimla mirch, matar paneer and others I can't even remember. Shelly didi would take me and Preeti all over the place. We'd go shopping in Sector 17 at Phulkari and Kohinoor and then we'd have sweets and dosas at Sindhi Sweets. We'd go to the music store and listen to Informer playing through the speakers : ) We'd go to Hot Millions and eat paneer kababs (see what I mean about the paneer) and have chocolate fudge sundaes for dessert in these huge beer mugs. We loved riding on the Kinetic Honda with Shelly. We'd go for long drives around Chandigarh (one time we went for a ride around the Sukhna lake and it was really hot and we were really thirsty so we stopped to get some Thumbs Up. Preeti for some reason was particularly thirsty so she drank TWO thumbs up bottles real fast. Me and Shelly were kinda suprised cause my sister was a little scrawny and skinny as a kid and were wondering how her stomach could handle all that coke. Anyways, we got back on the Honda and started driving. But guess what happened a few minutes later. My sister started screaming and saying "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" We were like, what the heck! What is happening! So we all got off the Honda and Shelly started slapping Preeti's back to help her breathe (Punjabis always think that any problem can be solved with some sort of force). Then all of a sudden, Preeti let out the HUGEST of belches you've ever heard. We were shocked - how could such a humongous burp come out of something so small. That damn Thumbs Up did her good. Then we got back on the Honda and it was time to go home.)
This is also the reason I don't understand why Punjab always runs out of electricity. Punjabis are the greatest of gas makers. Why don't you just line 'em up in a factory and use all that gas for good purposes. But no that would be too efficient of a process for the Indians. Jeez Louise. Anyways I'm getting off track.
I miss all the mischief me and Tinku sported with Nani. I miss how she used to wave her cane in the air warning us to get down from the side walls of the veranda at the house we had managed to climb in Sector 19. I miss how Preeti used to be a goody two shoes around her and made us look like imps. I miss how we used to walk to the mandir with Nani in the evenings (primarily to get boondi as prasad. What, I couldn't help it. I love sweets.)
I miss how my other Mama ji would tell me not to eat too much ketchup. I miss how I would stand outside the front door waiting for him to come home, how I used to follow him around the house looking for any chocolate he might have brought home for me. I miss the sight of him driving his pale blue scooter through the streets of Delhi. I hope he's happy playing cricket up in Heaven now.
I miss how you get those massive pimple-looking blisters from the ants that bit you in the eye during the night. I miss how you stupidly got bit by those ants by choosing to sleep outside. I miss how you can't fall asleep outside because the moon is so bright in the sky or because there is a Jagran in the distance. I even miss waking up and having to take a dump in the toilets built in the ground. It's all about reestablishing your connection to the Earth.
I miss the beautiful garden that Taya ji created. I miss how I used to hang around in the balcony upstairs and watch the guys play sports at the DAV school grounds across the street. I miss all the singing and the dholki playing for ten days straight before Lilly didi's wedding. I miss all the Thursday morning poojas with Baba ji in the house. I miss the abundance of marigolds that were strewn for his arrival and the bright orange ladus you got after the pooja.
So I have to admit I have another fantasy. I feel like I'm really exposing myself but I'm sort of becoming the type of person who doesn't have much to hide anymore. I would love to get engaged in Chandigarh one day. Maybe at Khyber or Taj. I would have all my family, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins there. It would be a dream come true (I know however, that I will have to keep cotton in my ears during the whole party because of the high decibel nature of the Punjabi event.) And then the next day, I wanna ride on a Kinetic Honda with my fiance through the streets of Chandigarh. It'll be like in the hindi movies. He'll be driving and I'll be holding him tight and my hair will be flying in the air and we'll sing romantic hindi songs. And if he doesn't sing them, I'm gonna punch him in the arm.
I miss the hot afternoon strolls through the rock garden and gazing at such interesting creations made out of stone. I miss running through the rose gardens and imagining I was in the movie Silsila being Rekha romancing with Amitabh. I miss watching movies in the Kiran theater and complaining about them out loud but secretly enjoying them. I miss the best-mango-shakes-I've-ever-had in Sector 22. I miss just exploring and living happily and just being free.
Oh yeah and then me and the fiance are gonna go to the rose garden and sing "Yeh Kahaaaaaaaaan Aa Gaye Hummmmm...Yoohi saath saath chalte." And then like Amitabh, he'll say "Ha! Hum ko Mohabbat hai, mohabbat hai, mohabbat!"
Oh yea I forgot to talk about the journey back home when we left India. I used to hate having to leave. I never wanted to leave my cousins. We were so spoiled with love there and treated like princesses. We were given so much time and so much attention and we had so much fun that I didn't want to come back home. So usually about a week before we had to leave, I would get these real yucky feelings in the pit of my stomach. And the mood used to mellow out a bit. Everyone would start getting a little quiet because we knew the inevitable was coming. We had to go home.
I usually got pretty quiet the day we had to leave. We would drive to the airport and my Mama ji's face would be all droopy and there would be a deep sadness in his eyes. Mami ji wouldn't say much to me either except through her eyes. And then mom would start crying and there would be big Punjabi hugs at the airport. I never liked to cry in front of everyone so I would hold the tears back real tight.
Then we'd get in the plane and me and Preeti would take out our coloring books and writing pads again. The plane would take off but Preeti always fell asleep (she loves to sleep). But I would stay up and start writing. I hate goodbyes but it's far easier for me to write them than to say them.
I would write something like the following: "Dear India, my beloved, thank you so much for such a wonderful time. As I leave the country, there is a hole so deep in my heart it is hard to breathe. But I must leave now. I must go back to America where my home is. My friends probably miss me. I will love you forever. Good bye Mama ji. Good bye Shelly didi. Good bye Taya ji and Tayi ji. Good bye Nani and Tinku. Good bye gol gupes and papdi chaat. Good bye my dear Chandigarh...good bye Delhi.....
...good....bye.....India!"
[insert sobs]
Seriously I did this. I'm not kidding. I was born with a bit of the dramatic bone. But honestly us dramatics, as funny as we look on the outside, we're not so funny on the inside. We just feel too deeply, unfortunately. Love is so addicting. Love that is true.
I feel so lucky to have these memories. Under the harshest of suns, these memories are the cool moonlight.
"har taraf ziist kii raaho.n me.n ka.Dii dhuup hai dost
bas terii yaad ke saaye hai.n panaaho.n kii tarah."
- Sudarshan Faakir
1/30/10
Singledom
So I went to Rite Aid yesterday to pick up the new Curl Power XXL Maybelline mascara that came out as well as some Epsom salts for my lavender-salt baths in the evenings (my new goal in life is to become a fashionable granny). The moment I entered the store though, I came to a screeching halt because I saw what I had been dreading to see since the beginning of this year. I had been dreading to see the very existence of this heartwrenching aisle of the store which always carries at this time of year those oh-so-cute red and pink teddy bears who wave their furry, stubby little arms at you and those sugar-drenched Russell Stover chocolates packed ever so snuggly in those big heart-shaped boxes (really, why do they have to be so huge) and of course those thousands of popular little candy hearts that have those weird, cryptic messages stamped on them like “will you be mine” and “like me.”
Yes, I had finally come to this aisle. I had finally come across the 'oh-so dreaded Valentine’s Day torture cell for women (under five foot five) in Singledom.'
But you know what I thought? I thought why should I skip this aisle? Honestly, I can be mature about this. I’m just going to take a little stroll through it and see what kinds of items people are buying for their dear wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, pimps, pimpettes etc. these days. It would be more of an educational type of stroll, purely done for the sake of gaining retail knowledge as well as some consumer information.
But the moment I reached the halfway point of the aisle, I realized that taking this ‘educational stroll’ was a really bad idea. For God’s sakes, did you know they have ‘Valentine Marshmallow Friends” that consist of miniature frog and bunny marshmallow figurines that wear snazzy tuxedos, tutus and teeny top hats? They also wave at you! I wanted to take those chewy little friends and smash them over the cashier’s head. I mean really why is this necessary?!
I’m being punished.
I knew I shouldn’t have poured maple syrup in my mom’s shoes on April Fool’s Day twenty years ago. What possessed me to squirt globs of Heinz ketchup on me and my sister to make it look like we had been brutally stabbed by the time my mother came home? What kind of twisted little kids do that kind of thing? I have undoubtedly accrued a bit of screwy karma.
But I made up for it last year! I spent the whole of Valentine’s Day 2009 with my lovely parents. Yes. We watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button together at Loews and then we went out for a nice Italian dinner where the rents treated me to some of the most awesomest pesto sauced, pine-nut sprinkled ravioli I’ve ever had. And that wasn’t even the extent of the entertainment program that evening. While we were enjoying our lovely cocktails, my sneaky mom and my charming man of a father were amorously eyeing each other with an air of affection and Indian ardor. Can you believe it? I mean not only did I have to watch the hundreds of other people around me canoodling but I had to watch my own rents through my own single eyes ‘getting it on.’ And you know what? I didn’t even look away. I was so entranced by the way they were enamored with each other that I kept ogling at them (as disturbing as it is to see your parents 'canoodling.')
Sigh.
I mean honestly, I have decent cooking skills (the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?) Does no man want a taste of my delectable, hot-sauced, spice-ridden Mexican omelettes? I mean if you don’t want to go down south we can stay up north from where I offer Italian ones instead.
Maybe those fuzzy little friends are a good wake up call for me (I did end up buying a Whitman's box of dark chocolates out of which I told myself I could only have one but ended up eating six. I'm single and depressed, I'm allowed.)
So for all you coupletons out there making plans for this coming Valentine’s Day, I wish you all the happiness and fun you could possibly have. Make sure to stock yourself up with ridiculous amounts of food, chocolates and tender kisses to keep you warm and fuzzy all winter long. But if you don’t mind, please think of me for just one minute on that special day and blow me a silent kiss from where you’re at. I know that surely I'll receive it and that on some level, it'll be a great day for me also.
Now where's that box of chocolates..
Yes, I had finally come to this aisle. I had finally come across the 'oh-so dreaded Valentine’s Day torture cell for women (under five foot five) in Singledom.'
But you know what I thought? I thought why should I skip this aisle? Honestly, I can be mature about this. I’m just going to take a little stroll through it and see what kinds of items people are buying for their dear wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, pimps, pimpettes etc. these days. It would be more of an educational type of stroll, purely done for the sake of gaining retail knowledge as well as some consumer information.
But the moment I reached the halfway point of the aisle, I realized that taking this ‘educational stroll’ was a really bad idea. For God’s sakes, did you know they have ‘Valentine Marshmallow Friends” that consist of miniature frog and bunny marshmallow figurines that wear snazzy tuxedos, tutus and teeny top hats? They also wave at you! I wanted to take those chewy little friends and smash them over the cashier’s head. I mean really why is this necessary?!
I’m being punished.
I knew I shouldn’t have poured maple syrup in my mom’s shoes on April Fool’s Day twenty years ago. What possessed me to squirt globs of Heinz ketchup on me and my sister to make it look like we had been brutally stabbed by the time my mother came home? What kind of twisted little kids do that kind of thing? I have undoubtedly accrued a bit of screwy karma.
But I made up for it last year! I spent the whole of Valentine’s Day 2009 with my lovely parents. Yes. We watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button together at Loews and then we went out for a nice Italian dinner where the rents treated me to some of the most awesomest pesto sauced, pine-nut sprinkled ravioli I’ve ever had. And that wasn’t even the extent of the entertainment program that evening. While we were enjoying our lovely cocktails, my sneaky mom and my charming man of a father were amorously eyeing each other with an air of affection and Indian ardor. Can you believe it? I mean not only did I have to watch the hundreds of other people around me canoodling but I had to watch my own rents through my own single eyes ‘getting it on.’ And you know what? I didn’t even look away. I was so entranced by the way they were enamored with each other that I kept ogling at them (as disturbing as it is to see your parents 'canoodling.')
Sigh.
I mean honestly, I have decent cooking skills (the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?) Does no man want a taste of my delectable, hot-sauced, spice-ridden Mexican omelettes? I mean if you don’t want to go down south we can stay up north from where I offer Italian ones instead.
Maybe those fuzzy little friends are a good wake up call for me (I did end up buying a Whitman's box of dark chocolates out of which I told myself I could only have one but ended up eating six. I'm single and depressed, I'm allowed.)
So for all you coupletons out there making plans for this coming Valentine’s Day, I wish you all the happiness and fun you could possibly have. Make sure to stock yourself up with ridiculous amounts of food, chocolates and tender kisses to keep you warm and fuzzy all winter long. But if you don’t mind, please think of me for just one minute on that special day and blow me a silent kiss from where you’re at. I know that surely I'll receive it and that on some level, it'll be a great day for me also.
Now where's that box of chocolates..
1/18/10
The Peaceful Spirit Formula
So a few days ago, I went to visit my acupuncturist for my usual monthly appointment. It proceeded how it always does. I reported all of the symptoms I had been experiencing over the past few weeks and how I’d been feeling jittery and a bit fidgety as usual. She listened with genuine care and concern and checked my pulse to see what kind of mood my heart was in that day. I asked her how her little one was and she smiled as wide as a summer sunflower. Then a little box of magical needles came into sight and I knew it was time to prick away.
Afterwards, I felt a serenity so deep I thought that maybe she had injected me with a major tranquilizer this time. I was totally ‘Zenned’ out. But that isn’t even the most amazing thing that happened that day. My kindhearted acupuncturist gave me a little bottle of tan-colored herbs wrapped in the usual rose-colored label that it comes with and written so concisely and clearly on this label in the hues of deep forest green and subtle gold, were the words:
“Peaceful Spirit Formula.”
I still can’t believe it.
I felt like I had just won the Pennsylvania lottery million dollar jackpot. I mean after loads and loads of hard work on so many levels - spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, physically and so on - for the last four years (and I know it will continue for the rest of my life), a wonderfully wise woman with wavy, russet-colored hair had, at last, granted me a little bundle of Peace.
This is awesome.
I mean think about it. I no longer have to ingest bottles of “Tian Wan Bu Xin Dian,” “Bupleureum Root,” or “Pinellia & Magnolia Bark”, or even good old “Ginseng Longan.” I have finally been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize of Chinese Herbs.
Afterwards, I felt a serenity so deep I thought that maybe she had injected me with a major tranquilizer this time. I was totally ‘Zenned’ out. But that isn’t even the most amazing thing that happened that day. My kindhearted acupuncturist gave me a little bottle of tan-colored herbs wrapped in the usual rose-colored label that it comes with and written so concisely and clearly on this label in the hues of deep forest green and subtle gold, were the words:
“Peaceful Spirit Formula.”
I still can’t believe it.
I felt like I had just won the Pennsylvania lottery million dollar jackpot. I mean after loads and loads of hard work on so many levels - spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, physically and so on - for the last four years (and I know it will continue for the rest of my life), a wonderfully wise woman with wavy, russet-colored hair had, at last, granted me a little bundle of Peace.
This is awesome.
I mean think about it. I no longer have to ingest bottles of “Tian Wan Bu Xin Dian,” “Bupleureum Root,” or “Pinellia & Magnolia Bark”, or even good old “Ginseng Longan.” I have finally been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize of Chinese Herbs.
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