The Morning that spelt Love!

The Morning that spelt Love!

 

“"Life is just a Magick Elf walking with you.....You become the Magick, you never knew"

Flames speak. They dance to your soul’s joy! They respond to the mirth resting secretly in your heart. Look keenly, they even speak to you. The flickering candles and the rhythm of one’s heart beat….walks closely! The pulse or life force that rules both, spells anticipation, expectation, never before spoken dreams, a secret love, an old pain, wishes waiting to be fulfilled…….

Life has always been a tapestry of myriad abstractions. A huge marble room, where I get to meet and greet many faces. Some make my journey simple and easy! Whilst some added a little friction. A fine colleague who wore the mask of my stony adversary smiles at me with open arms when I arrive. Superfluity, I pity…… Hurt, yes I was. But I choose to speak of the ones who are a blessing to me….They love me! I love them!  

Today’s morning had its own story. Subtle yet omnipresent. Seated beside my frail wooden table I had my candle all lighted. The purple body over the jade candle stand looks ethereal to me. My Sanctum Santorum. Rose petals strewn over the ground, the soft winds flowing over them….They seem to know each other’s silent language well. Well isn’t life a silent scroll? A silent voice speaking aloud of your otherwise vocal thoughts, that never was heard. Interplay of opposites…Beautiful isn’t it? The blazing sun and silver moon, the statuette hills and meandering valleys, unforgiving thunders and the ever-forgiving rains….

The fragrance of the roses filled the air around. The flame added the “mystical” into it! I remained seated. My parchment with me. Scribbling down thoughts. Some were mine, most came from a dimension beyond….Few were realizations! There was a book lying next to me, I flipped a page, and it read….

                                                                    

“Have I told you about the tension of opposite?” he says.

The tension of opposites?

“Life is a series of pulls back and forth. You want to do one thing, but you are bound to do something else. Something hurts you, yet you know it shouldn’t. You take certain things for granted, even when you know you should never take anything for granted.

“A tension of opposites, like a pull on a rubber band. And most of us live somewhere in the middle”

Sounds like a wrestling match, I say.

“A wrestling match.” He laughs. “Yes, you could describe life that way”

So which side wins, I ask?

“Which side wins?”

He smiles at me, the crinkled eyes, the crooked teeth.

"Love wins. Love always wins" ~ page 40, Tuesdays wuth Morrie, by Mirch Albom.

~Shweta~

The Call....

Logic and reasoning they say are the way to be in today’s world. A bit of unconcern is highly recommended by the ones who have risen high up the ladder. Removed from life, that is what I would give them as testimony. I chose the age-old path for me. The path that leads me to the earth and its stoicism. I still love the smell of tealeaves boiling and the sound of the footsteps of my near ones, climbing the stairs and walking briskly up to the drawing room. The eagerness in their eyes, their smiling souls and never-ending anecdotes has a life force beyond definition. Everyone has so much to say! Everyone has a story, of which I too am a part. In simple words, that is my family, my world….Magical and warm!

Being in a Bengali joint family in Calcutta, and the eldest daughter too, a bouquet of endearing nicknames comes with the package. I have mine too. Do I love them, of course yes! Even though I have acted otherwise many a times. Why? Tantrums….where else can you so comfortably place them and be loved in return, but your family!

Of all these names, my favorite one was that my grandpa, my Dadu used to call me. Short and sweet it is “Didi Bhai”. A very common name for grandchildrens’ in Calcutta, given by their grandparents. I particularly loved this name because it made me feel like a grown up being as a kid. Besides my Dadu being the eldest member of the family, calling me “Didi Bhai” gave encouragement to my childlike vanity. I felt like little Narcissus. People might call me pampered or crazy as a child, if they get to know the things I used to do, only to hear my grandpa call me by that name. I would all of a sudden not speak to him, coil up in his lap like a plump snail, or give more attention to my grandmother, my Dida. They both left this world, and I have these beautiful stories to re-run. I lost my granny two years back. My Dadu left me even before that, when I was in standard III.

This occurrence took place on a summer afternoon, a decade back. I completed my school and took admission in Rani Birla Girls College in Theater Road, Calcutta. For my English tuitions, I used to go to Salt Lake. Prof. Partho Mukherjee a well-known lecturer and professor was my teacher. An endearing guide in my life. I came from college and was all set to go to my tuitions. My mother asked me to take my class fees and an envelop too. When my car reached home in a hurry I forgot to take an envelop with me and made a move.

That day I was thinking about my Dadu, missing him as they say “badly”. I use this word for want of a better expression. All I possibly wanted was to hear someone call me “Didi bhai”. Never mind who called me by that name. No special reasons for this. As they say that the heart has its own reasons that reasons itself are not aware of.

On my way I realized that I do not have an envelop with me. It was difficult to get a stationery shop open at 3:00 pm. Most of the shopkeepers would take their afternoon siesta then. However, I could locate a small stationery shop beside what is now called Shukanto Setu leading to E.M Baypass. That was my savior. I got down and went up to the shop.

There was an old man sitting at the store, smiling at me. Frail as his body appeared to me and yet the eyes had an unspoken language. I don’t know how to define that expression. I asked for a plain white envelop. He got up slowly. I could make out, that his knees were aching. There was a small inlet to the shop. The way most stationery shops have. A wooden flap that is moveable like a sliding door. I told him “Dadu can I take it myself” and got inside. He smiled at me and raised up his hand to showed me the shelf where envelops were kept. I asked him the price. 25 paisa he answered. I had 20 paisa and but couldn’t trace 5 paisa. He did have change, but was unaware where the coin box was kept. I got to know it was his son’s shop. He was sitting just to guard the shop whilst his son was sleeping. Parents, I realized then, are actual guardians. They keep their duties even when their bodily strength fails them. I managed 5 paisa from my chauffer and gave it to him. The old man looked at me, smiled again and said in his frail tone “Thank you Didi Bhai”. I looked up and smiled back at him. Finally, I did get to hear my call. I waved him good-bye and got inside the car.

On my way I kept on thinking the miracle that life is. Somewhere someone wishes something, and suddenly a voice fulfills the heart’s wish. We are all connected I think now. They say when you get what you most want, the heart becomes a little selfish. The same happened to me. I decided to buy a pack of envelops from that shop again on my way back to home. My only purpose was to hear that call “Didi Bhai”. I reached the place and saw that the shop was closed, but there was a huge mob beside that. Confused and curious I got down from my car to understand what was the matter. I only heard murmurs of which I could make no sense. I asked one of them why the shop is closed. He replied in a dry tone, that the shop owners father passed away at around 4:30 pm.

I walked back to my car. I din’t knew the old man, but there was a sense of loss.

Now when I look back, I feel perhaps he waited for me arrive, call me “Didi Bhai” and then take off from life. Perhaps god had planned it so. I agree that when you wish from your heart someone hears it. Never mind what you get perhaps is just for a while. We all are connected!

~ Shweta~

To Move On....!

To move on!!!

You have walked a long mile voyageur

On this steps of life forever,

But now you rest with a shrouded heart

You think your fond memories depart!

Hope is an invisible story, a part of you

A secret lesson, you always knew,

Experience is just another phantom shade

The more you gain, it will never fade!

But now you look at the twilight star

You think you have come afar,

You wish to call it a day

Free from the strife, and be away!

But you are a voyageur, so is your might

You are the true warrior of light,

They say life is but a moving dream

So keep flowing in that stream!

That’s how the sands of time doth play

A little bit of rain dancing upon the clay,

Your dreams are like soft petals, resting on a thorn

Never mind if they break, you will be reborn!

If ever you feel forlorn

Do know, you are a “lone”,

When today’s here, tomorrow gone

It’s a story to keep moving on!

~Shweta~