Memoirs of another Era

Mother : Dove Beautiful Ends to your Beautiful Braids!

To the eyes of a two year me, life was rater different from what it is now. It was full of magic and everything was a kaleidoscopic in its own nature. I have no real memory but rather flashes of it, vestiges of a memorable time popping up like bubbles in a champagne glass. These are not memories that I can make any sense of but are rather distinctive and certainly not very descriptive in nature. I don’t remember all of them ( I was just a couple of years old, my brain was still finding places to keep stuff and had other serious problems like food and potty to bother about) but I do remember a few of them and of course one of them has a lot to do with braids.

When I started thinking about braids and what the to write about them, frankly I was turning blank, with the very little hair that I myself has that was no surprise. That’s when I realized that I should stop being a stupid narcissist and concentrate along another lines. I donned my thinking hat on and started thinking what thoughts braids inspire in me. One thought, rather one memory stood out of all. It was that of a two year old me, the hazy vision of the dangling braids all in sepia like in any good flashback from a beloved part of my life. I could see through the baby eyes of mine the life that was in and around me.

Dove Beautiful Ends to your Beautiful Braids!The first of the visions that I remember has my mother’s face in it, much younger and with much less wrinkles, so much younger and carefree than I ever remember her. I could faintly hear her smiles as she cajoled me. I could feel the delight in her giggles as I hung on to her braids and carried out various scientific experiments on like, biting, tasting, pulling and what not. I can remember the cries of utter delight that I let out and the immediate effect it has on my mother’s face. I remember watching the smile that reciprocate on her face, her eyes lighting up as if she was beholding something miraculous n her hands. Something that only a mother can feel for her son I guess.

Every one of my memories of my grandmother has something to do with braids. I have seen beautiful pictures of my ravishingly beautiful grandmother at my home. She had a very long braid, so beautiful were they, But that not the one that I remember. By the time I was born she had lost the blackness of her hair and her braids were no longer that strong but I can say that they would put most girls to shame. I remember I her braids, much before she lost it to old age and its ailments. It was like a silver thread, so beautiful; I can even remember seeing them shine brightly in the sunlight. The little me was so fascinated by the games her braids would play with the light, I would try chasing it, jumping on it and everything else I was capable of them.

I don’t know whether I could go on and say that braids has done a lot to my childhood, or that it played an important part in my younger years. But I can say this that though I have no braids, braids have featured in some the most cherished of my childhood memories. My memory of my mother when I was little was one the most beautiful memories that I have of my mother, a personal favorite, one among the very few where I remember her as carefree and elated. Huh! Memories sometimes that is all that we may have for ourselves. My only wish is that these memories be real and not just a product of my runaway imagination.

The Words of the Prophet on Children – Khalil Gibran

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

The first time I heard these words, it was in the television while I was in my room. though I came running out to find, who what and why of it, it was gone. It was years before I would ever encounter these words again. It was not because I searched less or in sources that were somehow limited, but the first few words were what I was left with and with that I had to searched. They may be true but I searched and continued to do so. Then one day when I least expected, in a place I least expected I ran into the book that because of its sheer petiteness that I chose to read it. And Voila there they were the same words, in all its majesty there they lay. So true and so profound and here I share it with you the words that I so loved and searched for during much of my life.

The Short and Splendid February – Part II

The short and Splendid February - A love story

The First Part

Then as they say one thing led to another and before I knew it we were in love. We used to chat a lot, it was the time I understood the use of social media for the first time for teenagers, we shared secrets and partook on gossips we discussed and we talked and what not. Slowly we both got our mobile phones and we talked even more, calling each other for the slightest most insignificant matter and then talking about it for hours on end. Yes! This must be love, or so I thought.

But things started falling part slowly, destiny sometimes has its way of finding you and give you something you really need it takes away something that are yours and sometimes thing that you really want. With February days stated getting cloudier and nights humid, she started getting insecure and that manifested and possessiveness. I started feeling suffocated and slowly and steadily the relationships became a chore that neither of us liked to do. The hour long calls remained hour long but we were no longer talking, we were fighting about something or the other and then making up.  The thing about love is that there are a definite number of times you can make up after that it all goes south.

The short and Splendid February - A love storyI wonder whether what happened had a lot to do with our personal challenges, the school was getting to a close, the graduation exams were but a couple of months away, everyone wanted a good college, maybe we felt that this was distracting us from our future, may be felt unsure of what to do next with us. A high school romance is a good thing only if you have the means to carry it forward. I was more of an under achiever in my school, never worked hard and I sometimes feel that had I worked a bit harder I would have been somewhere else but I don’t want to be somewhere else now. Where I am right now I am the happiest person alive in the subcontinent.

As our conviction in each other and the relationship started becoming more jaded, it finally started falling apart and one day over the phone we agreed on something after a very long time. We agreed that each other is not what we want; we agreed that a relationship that goes not forward is not what any one would ever want. And thus over the phone we broke up. This time I did not feel sad I was not depressed and I was not sulking about it. But after a very long time I breathed in freedom, I embraced relief and I acknowledged happiness. That night I slept peacefully.

I wonder now why it happened; I wonder why I felt happy that day. Did I make a mistake falling in love with her? The answer was not for me to know then but later in life at one point I felt most thankful to February than any other person in the world. One night I knew that fate had intended it and that was a lesson I had to learn for what destiny had in store for me.

The short and Splendid February - A love storyAnd thus faded away February, we saw each other a couple of times after that night but we never talked then in person. Later after years we mended our wounds, laughed at our mistakes and our childish stupidity and at our admirable effort at something that we both now know had no chance of survival ever. We were both so much different fundamentally. At we parted ways as friends and good comrades rather than two spiteful and angry people. Alas what a February it was. But I must it was one hell of an experience and a supreme lesson in love.

My love life is not over there is a lot more to come, keep reading…

Some things about January.

The Selfish I, A Poem

Oh mighty lass, taker of all vows, Oh redeemer of the innocent bliss.
Your dormant might, the powerful roar and the humility of a deserving king.
The soothing tunes played in your court and the chills of a true being.
The presence of lightness in thy life and the jingle of a rather light heart.
The slow caress of your hands and the spectacles that you show.
The way the great moon embellishes you and the joy of such a beautiful sight.
The secrets that you cared to share and the ones that you hid in the depths.
The love and the life you nurture, the greatness of your bitter silence.
The softness of your gardens and its beauty sans the green.
The days, the hours and the seconds you took and the memories you gave.
The tears you let dry on my face and the very pains you soaked.
Yet today I come again to sit in your citadel and let you wash my sorrows again.
For all that has been done and said, I come again the selfish I.

The Short and Splendid February – Part I

A February love story
January was good, but it ended on a sore note. You must be expecting a detailed account of what happened between January and February, but I must disappoint you in this matter. It was not good and for most parts rather ugly and let’s just leave it at that and continue forward. The end of January started for me a rather solemn and modest period, I was lost most of the time in thoughts and all I could think of was the beautiful days I had in my memories. I cried and wept over the shattered dreams and with each passing day I was becoming more dilapidated. The seasons changed and I didn’t know and the flowers bloomed and I didn’t care and finally I had gathered too much dust that I had forgotten myself in a solemn corner of my life.

But, one day I did wake up and one day I had to tell myself that I had to choose. I reminded myself that I had the choice between a ‘life of gathering dust in a corner’ and one where I could just go out and live life as it comes. ‘Carpe Diem’, that’s the choice I made.

It was over an year later that I seriously started having a life, that is the amount of time it took me to forgo the once beautiful dreams that had now came back to haunt me. The nightmares ones broken dreams make are horrendous, almost sinister in intent. The number of sleepless nights had reduced greatly and I must have had my first good night’s sleep around that time. But some people never learn and I am one of them. Due to this particular weakness of mine I had let in my life another somebody.

PS:  If you feel completely lost please refer my previous post. It will help you catch upon the misery.

It was by a rather off chance that I let February in my life. How it happened is still much fuzzy to me. She was always there, I must never have had seen her yet or I may just not have noticed or rather cared to notice.  Then as the days unfolded and as I stared coming out of my self-inflicted hermitage and started cherishing the world around me, we met. We met, we talked, we became friends and then something clicked and due to my tenacious friends and their perseverance in seeing to it that I hook up with someone the idea got planted in our heads I guess. Over the next year and a half we bonded, it was not like the first time I was in love, this was different.

She was smart and she was pretty but the best thing is that she was shorter than me. The most trouble I have with girls is that they apparently happen to be taller than me or they appear to do so, which is not a very good thing when you are out looking for company. But February was the perfect size in that regard, being friends was easy, it just happened and not much work was necessary neither did I intended to do any at that point in time, but being in love was a whole lot different. The way it happened is that one day she asked what I was going to give her for Valentine’s Day and I asked her what she wanted. She resorted to a shy and sly smile as an answer and knowing her so well by then I knew what was in her mind and I was happy that it was the same thing as in mine. Strange ways that love works, huh!