Where Love Lives ❤️

Where Love Lives 🤗

So many times, love disguises itself as a question… Have you eaten?… Do you have money on you? … When will you be back?… Not all love chooses the flowery path, some just finds its way through the deep crevices of the practical and the mundane.

Not all language of love is dinner by moonlit beaches or exotic bouquets, some is plain, omnipresent and taken as boring… like the comfort of Maggie on a winter night 😁

Everyone has their own way of showing love, it might not be the way we want to be loved but it is the only way the other person knows how to.

When I was in school, love shown by my mom was never with copious hugs and interminable conversations. It was a fried egg lying on the table and my bread buttered just so. It was a new scarf knitted just before the start of winter and waiting for me on my bed when I came back from school… No floral packaging and bows to untie… It just sat there 🤗

Love has so many definitions… But the bottom line is we will not always be loved the way we want to and sometimes we would have to work really hard to even find the streak of love as advertised on television… But it’s there, in a different form, less romantic, more durable… Less ephemeral, more constant… Less for the world to see, more for the heart to feel… 💕

It takes a Village…

Little Buda peeped from behind a broken wall, eyes alight with curiosity. When I looked up, he retreated behind the wall. After a few minutes of this game, I beckoned him to me. I was sitting on the roof of our homestay in Sikkim and sketching the vast and endless mountains visible from my perch. As he approached me I asked him if he would like to draw something. He nodded shyly and became excited when I gave him a sketch pad and pen. We both sat quietly, each lost in a private world, drawing and colouring. Later, he was called down by someone, who I presumed might be his mother. 

It was as we were leaving, that I found out that Buda’s mother had abandoned him and he was being brought up by the entire village. They made sure that he ate, went to school and had a home to come back to…

In our parting photograph with the family that we were staying with, Buda was on the hip of our hostess, smiling into the camera with glee 😊

Any woman can have a mother’s heart, you don’t have to be one to embrace another with that kind of love…
#sikkimdiaries

Ah! Childhood! 

The exploration of childhood 

When nothing was impossible 

When joy had a definition

That included mud and water and sunshine 

When laughter was second nature and a smile, irrepressible. 

When life couldn’t be postponed, even for a minute

It had to be lived and it had to be lived NOW

When freedom meant running, with no desire to compete,

but running because the breeze felt Oh! So good.. 

When you were a winner because You proclaimed so

And not because the world did… 

Ah! Childhood😊

#Durham #durhamdiaries #ourworld #wordsandvisuals #sculptured #water #childhood #children #joy #fun #SimplePleasuresofLife

Presence in the Absence

Presence in the Absence

The absence is complete..yet the presence is palpable. It is there in the form of strewn shoes…an unmade bed…perfume lingering in the air, like a guest reluctant to leave..even the comb wants to hang on to a glossy long hair as a keepsake.

Her presence is everywhere..a silent witness, it winks from countertops and jumbled clothes, it gives away every personality trait of my teen aged daughter..sometimes reluctantly and sometimes with glee..sure in the knowledge that it will get a reaction out of me. I am reluctant to start cleaning and clearing..

enjoying her presence in her absence. I see examples of this girl-woman in little things that looming adulthood has not taken away yet..three magenta colored monkeys keeping Gandhijis lessons alive…a fluffy stuffed toy, a keepsake from babyhood still finds pride of place. Alongside it are photographs capturing the metamorphoses of a baby into a young woman.

She is faraway now… gone for higher studies..that sounds ironical too because she always makes me feel that she knows everything..it’s in the folding of clothes and clearing of clutter that I feel oddly close to my child. This child, who loves paneer, poetry and her point of view all with equal fervour.

Though she is not in my field of vision she’s still everywhere..sitting squarely in my heart and in her home..With every move of my hands that remove the creases from her clothes I say a prayer..be happy..be safe…be yourself…