What is the right way to remember past, which is so different from present?
When I was about 13 year old, I had a one year old cute little boy in my neighborhood. He almost grew up in my arms. I would get him my home, dance with him, feed him, laugh with him and teach him new actions. I simply loved him. I still remember those joyful moments spent with him.
Recently, when I visited India, I went back to my old neighborhood and to meet him. But when I saw him, I was extremely disappointed. He turned out to be not a gentleman. I just could not stand him, even for a few minutes; when I was wishfully planning to talk to him about those sweet-old days.
I came home confused. Then I meditated.
I realized that I was confused and upset because, I was linking his two pictures; the 1 year old cute boy and 27 year old repulsive man. I saw that with time and circumstances, he had grown far away from what I had expected. The only thing common between them was the name.
I realized that Life happens-it is not right or wrong. There is nothing wrong in continuing to remember him as a lovable 1 year old boy, even if I did not like him as a 27 year old man. They are two independent people, linked only with a name.
Perhaps, if I had liked him as a 27 year old man, may be I would have talked to him and stayed in touch; knowing very well that it would have also been totally different from his 1 year old picture.
So the problem was my attachment to his 1 year old picture and extrapolating it in a wishful direction.
WHEREAS, THE TRUTH IS PAST IS PAST. TO ENJOY IT, I SHOULD REVISIT IT LIKE GOING THROUGH AN OLD PHOTO ALBUM, WITHOUT EXPECTING RELATIONSHIPS/PEOPLE TO FREEZE IN TIME; OR EXPECTING THEM TO GROW ONLY IN A CERTAIN WISHFUL DIRECTION. I NEED TO “LET GO” OF THAT ATTACHMENT WITH MY PAST AND SIMPLY CHERISH THOSE MOMENTS.
Past is past and present is present; they cannot be linked or stretched. Each one of them is perfect in its own place.
Surrender, Listen and Give Contact at Contact@FollowThyHeart.Org
About Me
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Experiencing the Magic of Love
In October 2007, I did some exploring Physics activities with my 9 year old daughter’s class (here in US). Surprisingly, it took me decades back, down the memory lane when, I (at age 9), got my first memorable exposure to Physics in Delhi, India.
***
The flashback started off with my eyes glued to a display depicting generation of electricity from water; a moment which got me hooked to Physics forever. This memorable moment happened at the science fair in my first school.
My first school in some un-describe-able ways resonated with my “value” frequency of “self-discipline”. All through those 10 years; I was absolutely “myself” around nature, loving-caring friends, and warm-affectionate teachers.
But, I had to move on to a bigger school to complete my high school (grade 11-12).
***
However, that big school which was large both in its size and the number of students, felt very claustrophobic to me. Right from day one, I felt uneasy amidst its not-so-green campus, strict-discipline code, cold teachers, jealous classmates, and dirty looks from some boys.
While all this was happening, Subin joined my class. The class teacher asked me to help him out with math. During that phase, he spoke out his heartfelt feelings towards me. Since, I was clear that I wanted to stay focused on my studies without getting “distracted”. Therefore, in a shocked state, I said, “NO” and walked away.
As days passed by, I started building up anger against him; I felt that he took “undue advantage” of my helping him as a friend.
Soon after every morning, some heart shapes and insane words started appearing (in chalk) on the inside of my wooden desk. That was like the straw to break the camel’s back; I started breaking down in tears each time on seeing that dirty art work.
When the notes did not stop, I reported it to my class teacher and pointed that perhaps, he was the potential writer.
After that “reporting” day, even if we would cross each other’s way, he would not even greet me. We stopped talking to each other. I could see it from his long and pale face that he had got a strong dose. But my logical mind reasoned it out, saying that I had no choice. I reported against him to stop that every-morning-nonsense-on-my-desk.
Unfortunately, the “reporting” did not solve my problem. The notes continued to appear. It was only then, I registered that, he was not the culprit. I realized that I had mistakenly complained against him; but I just did not apologize.
Once we all moved to grade 12, the silence between us increased. Each time, I would turn around to bring out my notebooks from the bag hanging behind my chair; I would find him looking at me from his last desk. That would make me feel so uncomfortable that I would immediately look away.
His “gaze” had started disturbing me. The silence and the “strange way” in which he looked at me from the far end of those long corridors would stir me up.
My heart had recognized that his feelings were true.
There were moments when I found myself smiling about it during my sleep. But when I would wake up my mind would start knocking at me; reminding me to stay focused on studies. I did not acknowledge my heartfelt feelings; not-even-to-myself.
Then I overheard from classmates that he had started drinking-at-late-night-parties. I could see that his health was deteriorating. I heard my logical mind speak out loud and clear that, “He is a weak person.” During the day, I would pretend as if nothing was bothering me.
But somewhere, without my own awareness, I was slowly getting eaten up by the poisonous environment in the school and his “gaze”. I would be really mad at him and complain to myself, "Neither does he study himself, nor does he let me study."
My mind was perturbed. I would try to sleep, but no sleep would enter my closed, burning eyes. I felt tired, clamped, lost, anxious, frustrated, and unhappy. I was simply not myself.
Once the exams got over, I felt as if I had been released from a 2 year long imprisonment.
But even then without my asking, I continued to hear updates (from classmates) about his getting-off-the-track stories.
One day, in a quiet-relaxing moment; I heard a soft voice within me, urging me to talk to him. This time, I followed my heart and called him up. All I remember now, of that monologue is me telling him, “Don’t ruin your life”. But I do clearly remember experiencing a joy and lightness, after following that soft voice.
Towards the end of that year, I heard that he had cleared some exams, interviews, and was back-on-the-track. That day I thanked God and was really happy for him.
Then one evening I received a couple of “blank” calls. After the second call, I remembered (like a flash) that it was time for him to leave his home; to start his new life. Next time, when my phone (without any caller ID feature) rang again, I knew who was calling. For the next few minutes, I was quiet and he was quiet. Since, I wanted to close the chapter; I kept the phone down after that brief spell of silence.
My mind-wrecking high school chapter ended silently.
***
At college, I was "myself" once again. During those happy five years, I gradually forgot about my “miserable” past.
Once I completed MS is Physics, I experienced (for the first time in my life) a very strong set of feelings for another person. But, this time when I shared my heart felt feelings face-to-face; I got to hear a NO.
Later, while lying on my drenched pillow, I felt as if a sharp knife was penetrating slowly inside my heart. I experienced the pain of “feeling heartbroken”.
In that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment, after 6 years, I truly empathized with Subin. In that moment, I heard myself saying sorry for hurting him and thanking him for trying to “give” me something so precious.
Over the next few months, when I found my could-not-be-controlled-silent tears rolling out of my eyes anytime and anywhere; I regretted judging him weak.
But, I did not make any efforts to reach him; to communicate my heartfelt sorry and thanks. Instead I got myself lost into research work at IIT while healing my broken heart.
***
Recently (after 16 years), while writing about my student life, suddenly, it struck me that I owed Subin an apology; for mistakenly reporting against him that “every morning art work on my desk”.
As if God wanted me to apologize, with a friend’s help, I got his cell phone number. I immediately called him up (in India) and offered my apologies. While talking, I felt “lighter” as if a paper weight had been lifted off my head; letting my anger fly away.
After some days, I heard that familiar soft voice (from within) urging me to speak all I wished to communicate in that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment; and I found myself following it.
I sincerely apologized for hurting him without my awareness and for calling him weak. I respectfully, “thanked” him for his feelings towards me then and for allowing me to communicate it now. All this I said in a flow; as if I would pause, my ego might stop me. That was a significant, emancipating moment for me; for I felt I was floating-like-an-astronaut-inside-a-zero-gravity-space-shuttle.
When I kept the phone down, I experienced a lingering happiness in a quiet, peaceful state of mind. This happiness felt more profound than my normal happiness expressed as singing and dancing.
***
Now, I understand that feelings happen; but emotions can be controlled.
Now that I am a parent myself, I know that there is a “special support” which only a parent can provide. This realization makes me wish that I had shared my mental chaos (in high school) and heartbroken state (after MS) with my parents; instead of sharing it only with my sister or friends.
Further, I wish I had honestly acknowledged my heart felt feelings to myself (in high school); keeping aside all my fears of getting distracted off studies.
These realizations make me pray that neither mine nor anyone else's growing-up-children, when faced with similar circumstances ever commit these two mistakes and suffer unnecessarily.
***
Presently, I am feeling “myself” once again; loving-hugging everyone. As if, I have been reconnected to an infinite source of love which was lying “blocked” within me all these years. This feels so much like how water starts flowing freely through a water hose, when a knot along its length gets undone.
Now, I am experiencing the magic of love while “giving” warm bear hugs to everyone.
***
Aum Tat Sat (God is Truth)
***
The flashback started off with my eyes glued to a display depicting generation of electricity from water; a moment which got me hooked to Physics forever. This memorable moment happened at the science fair in my first school.
My first school in some un-describe-able ways resonated with my “value” frequency of “self-discipline”. All through those 10 years; I was absolutely “myself” around nature, loving-caring friends, and warm-affectionate teachers.
But, I had to move on to a bigger school to complete my high school (grade 11-12).
***
However, that big school which was large both in its size and the number of students, felt very claustrophobic to me. Right from day one, I felt uneasy amidst its not-so-green campus, strict-discipline code, cold teachers, jealous classmates, and dirty looks from some boys.
While all this was happening, Subin joined my class. The class teacher asked me to help him out with math. During that phase, he spoke out his heartfelt feelings towards me. Since, I was clear that I wanted to stay focused on my studies without getting “distracted”. Therefore, in a shocked state, I said, “NO” and walked away.
As days passed by, I started building up anger against him; I felt that he took “undue advantage” of my helping him as a friend.
Soon after every morning, some heart shapes and insane words started appearing (in chalk) on the inside of my wooden desk. That was like the straw to break the camel’s back; I started breaking down in tears each time on seeing that dirty art work.
When the notes did not stop, I reported it to my class teacher and pointed that perhaps, he was the potential writer.
After that “reporting” day, even if we would cross each other’s way, he would not even greet me. We stopped talking to each other. I could see it from his long and pale face that he had got a strong dose. But my logical mind reasoned it out, saying that I had no choice. I reported against him to stop that every-morning-nonsense-on-my-desk.
Unfortunately, the “reporting” did not solve my problem. The notes continued to appear. It was only then, I registered that, he was not the culprit. I realized that I had mistakenly complained against him; but I just did not apologize.
Once we all moved to grade 12, the silence between us increased. Each time, I would turn around to bring out my notebooks from the bag hanging behind my chair; I would find him looking at me from his last desk. That would make me feel so uncomfortable that I would immediately look away.
His “gaze” had started disturbing me. The silence and the “strange way” in which he looked at me from the far end of those long corridors would stir me up.
My heart had recognized that his feelings were true.
There were moments when I found myself smiling about it during my sleep. But when I would wake up my mind would start knocking at me; reminding me to stay focused on studies. I did not acknowledge my heartfelt feelings; not-even-to-myself.
Then I overheard from classmates that he had started drinking-at-late-night-parties. I could see that his health was deteriorating. I heard my logical mind speak out loud and clear that, “He is a weak person.” During the day, I would pretend as if nothing was bothering me.
But somewhere, without my own awareness, I was slowly getting eaten up by the poisonous environment in the school and his “gaze”. I would be really mad at him and complain to myself, "Neither does he study himself, nor does he let me study."
My mind was perturbed. I would try to sleep, but no sleep would enter my closed, burning eyes. I felt tired, clamped, lost, anxious, frustrated, and unhappy. I was simply not myself.
Once the exams got over, I felt as if I had been released from a 2 year long imprisonment.
But even then without my asking, I continued to hear updates (from classmates) about his getting-off-the-track stories.
One day, in a quiet-relaxing moment; I heard a soft voice within me, urging me to talk to him. This time, I followed my heart and called him up. All I remember now, of that monologue is me telling him, “Don’t ruin your life”. But I do clearly remember experiencing a joy and lightness, after following that soft voice.
Towards the end of that year, I heard that he had cleared some exams, interviews, and was back-on-the-track. That day I thanked God and was really happy for him.
Then one evening I received a couple of “blank” calls. After the second call, I remembered (like a flash) that it was time for him to leave his home; to start his new life. Next time, when my phone (without any caller ID feature) rang again, I knew who was calling. For the next few minutes, I was quiet and he was quiet. Since, I wanted to close the chapter; I kept the phone down after that brief spell of silence.
My mind-wrecking high school chapter ended silently.
***
At college, I was "myself" once again. During those happy five years, I gradually forgot about my “miserable” past.
Once I completed MS is Physics, I experienced (for the first time in my life) a very strong set of feelings for another person. But, this time when I shared my heart felt feelings face-to-face; I got to hear a NO.
Later, while lying on my drenched pillow, I felt as if a sharp knife was penetrating slowly inside my heart. I experienced the pain of “feeling heartbroken”.
In that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment, after 6 years, I truly empathized with Subin. In that moment, I heard myself saying sorry for hurting him and thanking him for trying to “give” me something so precious.
Over the next few months, when I found my could-not-be-controlled-silent tears rolling out of my eyes anytime and anywhere; I regretted judging him weak.
But, I did not make any efforts to reach him; to communicate my heartfelt sorry and thanks. Instead I got myself lost into research work at IIT while healing my broken heart.
***
Recently (after 16 years), while writing about my student life, suddenly, it struck me that I owed Subin an apology; for mistakenly reporting against him that “every morning art work on my desk”.
As if God wanted me to apologize, with a friend’s help, I got his cell phone number. I immediately called him up (in India) and offered my apologies. While talking, I felt “lighter” as if a paper weight had been lifted off my head; letting my anger fly away.
After some days, I heard that familiar soft voice (from within) urging me to speak all I wished to communicate in that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment; and I found myself following it.
I sincerely apologized for hurting him without my awareness and for calling him weak. I respectfully, “thanked” him for his feelings towards me then and for allowing me to communicate it now. All this I said in a flow; as if I would pause, my ego might stop me. That was a significant, emancipating moment for me; for I felt I was floating-like-an-astronaut-inside-a-zero-gravity-space-shuttle.
When I kept the phone down, I experienced a lingering happiness in a quiet, peaceful state of mind. This happiness felt more profound than my normal happiness expressed as singing and dancing.
***
Now, I understand that feelings happen; but emotions can be controlled.
Now that I am a parent myself, I know that there is a “special support” which only a parent can provide. This realization makes me wish that I had shared my mental chaos (in high school) and heartbroken state (after MS) with my parents; instead of sharing it only with my sister or friends.
Further, I wish I had honestly acknowledged my heart felt feelings to myself (in high school); keeping aside all my fears of getting distracted off studies.
These realizations make me pray that neither mine nor anyone else's growing-up-children, when faced with similar circumstances ever commit these two mistakes and suffer unnecessarily.
***
Presently, I am feeling “myself” once again; loving-hugging everyone. As if, I have been reconnected to an infinite source of love which was lying “blocked” within me all these years. This feels so much like how water starts flowing freely through a water hose, when a knot along its length gets undone.
Now, I am experiencing the magic of love while “giving” warm bear hugs to everyone.
***
Aum Tat Sat (God is Truth)
Saturday, March 15, 2008
How can DUI of emotions take away peace?
How can Driving under Influence of emotions take away peace of mind?
Just as driving under influence (DUI) of alcohol disables the driver’s control over the steering wheel (of his car) and thereby leads to an accident on the road.
Similarly driving under influence of emotions (of passion, attachment, longing, desires, anger or hatred) for other human beings disables my control over my own thoughts and thereby leads to restlessness and misery in my life.
I have realized that the only right path to peace of mind is to extract happiness and love from within and to give it to each and every living being in my life.
For this reason, I pray to CONSTANTLY REMEMBER
(a) that all external sources of love and happiness are transitory and finite; they (eventually) always take away peace of mind and
(b) that the true-source-of-constant peace is residing within me.
Just as driving under influence (DUI) of alcohol disables the driver’s control over the steering wheel (of his car) and thereby leads to an accident on the road.
Similarly driving under influence of emotions (of passion, attachment, longing, desires, anger or hatred) for other human beings disables my control over my own thoughts and thereby leads to restlessness and misery in my life.
I have realized that the only right path to peace of mind is to extract happiness and love from within and to give it to each and every living being in my life.
For this reason, I pray to CONSTANTLY REMEMBER
(a) that all external sources of love and happiness are transitory and finite; they (eventually) always take away peace of mind and
(b) that the true-source-of-constant peace is residing within me.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Trusting the Power of Intention
Since last six months I have started recognizing the power of intention. I have experienced that whenever I sent out a sincere heartfelt wish, it gets arranged by the universe in some time. Here is what I experienced in three different situations.
***
That day it was September 17th and I was missing my mother a lot on her 11th death anniversary. In that moment I felt like writing something about my mother; what she was to me.
I heard myself making a wish that the dedication be up on my blog by September 21st (7 pm PST); so that my family (in India) could read it on the morning of my mother’s date of birth i.e., September 22nd.
I knew that one day out of those 5 days ahead, I was going to be on the road. So I had 4 days to write all I wished to; that too only 6 hours of each of those 4 days (when my kids would be away to their schools) totaling to 24 hours.
It was a wonderful-yet-strange experience completing that heartfelt dedication in 24 hours. I found myself writing with tears rolling out of eyes. Sometimes the visibility was so poor that, I could not even see the keyboard. But I typed and typed.
On the morning of September 21st, it was a Friday. My 9 year old daughter had a holiday and 4 year old son was in his preschool. While I was contemplating on how to keep her busy after breakfast; I felt that a magic wand put her to sleep. It was unbelievable, my daughter continued to sleep (out of her choice) till lunch hour while I wrote.
Just after lunch, one of my daughter’s friend’s mother called up to ask, if she could pick my daughter for her daughter’s birthday party. I was hesitant to trust the stranger-mom especially because none of my children had ever gone to a birthday party without either of the parents. However, I felt secured (regarding my daughter’s environmental allergies) by the way that physician-mom talked to me in person. I sent my daughter away to have fun at the birthday party.
My husband offered to pick up my daughter on his way back from the birthday party.
Around the same time another parent of my son’s classmate (in preschool) called me up to sync up a play date at her house for the evening. I knew my 4 year old shy son was a close friend of her son. But still I was hesitant to drop him off at another stranger-mom’s home.
I planned to sit in their backyard and edit while the kids played inside the home. But when I reached there, I found the house was clean, safe and siblings were having fun within limits. I felt a comfortable yes flowing out from within. My son waved me bye from the playing area and told me that like a big boy he would visit the restroom periodically while playing.
I went to the neighborhood park and started editing the dedication in the sinking sunlight. After an hour, I called up their home. The mother informed me that the kids wanted to play for another hour. My son repeated the same request and asked for my permission to eat the food she had cooked. I heard my "yes" coming out.
Once home, I started working hard and fast. Just then the door bell rang downstairs. I ignored it thinking they were my daughter’s friends. Next time the bell and my cell phone rang simultaneously. I took the phone call from my neighbor, who was ringing my door bell. Without getting into any formalities, I took the key from her hands to be given to somebody the next day, closed the door and rushed back to work.
I was in tears of joy, while putting up the dedication on my blog and emailing the link to my family members in India.
When I was driving to pick up my son, I sensed with gratitude that favorable circumstances had been especially arranged to fulfill my intention.
***
During my return journey from India, it occurred to me that my holiday was actually going to get over. I knew that after the next 11 hours (flying from Frankfurt to Los Angeles), the moment I would reach US, it would be the same old routine and responsibilities for me. In that moment it struck me that even though I know that I am not able to sit or sleep comfortably on the cushioned seats of the aircraft (because of my back injury); but instead of complaining I should choose to do something that is fun before my holiday terminates.
I knew my children and husband will eat, watch a movie and sleep; something I cannot do. So may be I should go around and have fun, enjoy all the infants on the flight, talk to the crew members and just hang around and write; without even thinking about my disability to sit or sleep. I heard myself saying, “I am going to have fun during this longest flight of my return journey.”
Once I was inside the plane, I found myself smiling when most of the other passengers were complaining about the anticipated long-killer flight.
After the first meal was served, I started following my plan. When most of the passengers in my cabin (lower level executive class) started getting ready to sleep, I stepped out of my seat and started conversing with the friendly crew. They talked about their lives on the ground when they are not flying high in the air. Those conversations were really fun and informative.
Then, I stepped out of the executive class to take a walk down the economy class. I started with my favorite i.e., playing with the infants sitting in the bassinets. While I was doing that, I saw the food cart coming towards me. I decided to interrupt my joyful interaction and move out of the way.
I found myself climbing stairs to take a walk on the upper level of the executive class. When I reached there, I was surprised to find that there were only four passengers. That gave me an idea that I could lie down on the area in front of the emergency exit door (like poor people sleeping on the side walk in India). That way my body would get the much needed rest and I would still be out of the way of passengers walking by.
I came down and shared this idea with my friendly crew members in the lower level. The lower level crew head immediately contacted the upper level crew head.
The crew head upstairs turned out to be not so kind and asked me to lie down in between the two seats. The seats were broad enough for me to squeeze in, but had three humps (protecting the cables under them) thereby making it not such a rosy bed. I knew that my body was crying for some rest. Therefore, I decided to lie down on my only choice of bed. I spread layers of blankets on the floor, took one on top of me, used my yoga blocks to support my feet and covered the eyes with my fleece jacket.
After 10 minutes of trying to sleep, I suddenly heard something fall. I thought it must be someone’s luggage dropping down from the cabin (above) during turbulence. When I removed my jacket from the eyes, it was all dark around me. I realized that something had fallen right on top of my face and “that something” was the front seat. All crew members came running when I called for help.
They lifted the fallen seat and helped me come out. I was told that the upper level crew head had allowed some sick passenger from economy class to come and sit there. However, when that passenger tried to open the seat, something snapped out and instead of 135°, the seat opened to 180°. Luckily it stopped just a few centimeters above my nose and the padding of my jacket saved my nose from getting injured.
I declared to the panicky crew, I refuse to sleep in between any seats. It was then that not-so-friendly head of the crew upstairs yielded and allowed me to lie down in front of the emergency exit area which was twice in width, smooth (no humps) and had no passengers sitting on the either of its four sides.
When I was preparing my make-shift bed in that area for a relaxing nap, I knew my intention had been heard and arranged for.
***
During my recent trip to India, I was trying to locate an old classmate from school. I was sincerely trying to reach him to make an apology for a long-forgotten-but-freshly-realized mistake committed by me; for which he had to suffer (during our high school years together).
But the only information I had was his first name and the year he joined the specific branch of the armed forces.
I asked a senior ex-service man (a neighbor of my aunt) for help. He told me point blank that without the "badge number" of a serviceman, I was looking for a needle in a haystack. He told me it was an almost impossible task.
I realized I needed to ask someone else for help. Next, I asked a dear old friend from IIT days for the same help; knowing that she has and had all men in her family (father, brother and husband) dedicated to the same branch of these services. Despite her sincere intentions to help me, she admitted that it was going to be extremely difficult to locate my old classmate with “such little information”.
After ten days when we were leaving from Delhi, she came to say good bye. That day she told me her plans to continue looking for my old classmate’s contact and of passing the information ASAP.
A fortnight later, she sent an email message (to my husband) with the cell phone number of my old classmate.
As soon as I read the forwarded message from my husband, I immediately called up the old classmate and apologized. He was shocked to hear my voice and even more shocked to know that I could reach him with that “little information”. He kept on asking me repeatedly, “How could you locate me with that “little information” amongst hundreds of service men in that 21 year old batch?”
I told him, “It got arranged”.
***
I now believe that intentions get arranged in its “spring season”.
With this newly found trust in the power of intention; today I pray that my aspiration to contribute towards educating young kids via exploration gets arranged. Now, I know that it will be arranged; without my worrying about "how" it will be arranged.
For all these experiences, I thank God for guiding me through this “maze” called life; just as I guide my 4 year old son (who is learning his alphabets) with his full-of-big-words-state-capital 48 piece puzzles.
When the above mentioned experiences happened, I found myself in the same state of joy as does my son on successfully completing his puzzles.
***
That day it was September 17th and I was missing my mother a lot on her 11th death anniversary. In that moment I felt like writing something about my mother; what she was to me.
I heard myself making a wish that the dedication be up on my blog by September 21st (7 pm PST); so that my family (in India) could read it on the morning of my mother’s date of birth i.e., September 22nd.
I knew that one day out of those 5 days ahead, I was going to be on the road. So I had 4 days to write all I wished to; that too only 6 hours of each of those 4 days (when my kids would be away to their schools) totaling to 24 hours.
It was a wonderful-yet-strange experience completing that heartfelt dedication in 24 hours. I found myself writing with tears rolling out of eyes. Sometimes the visibility was so poor that, I could not even see the keyboard. But I typed and typed.
On the morning of September 21st, it was a Friday. My 9 year old daughter had a holiday and 4 year old son was in his preschool. While I was contemplating on how to keep her busy after breakfast; I felt that a magic wand put her to sleep. It was unbelievable, my daughter continued to sleep (out of her choice) till lunch hour while I wrote.
Just after lunch, one of my daughter’s friend’s mother called up to ask, if she could pick my daughter for her daughter’s birthday party. I was hesitant to trust the stranger-mom especially because none of my children had ever gone to a birthday party without either of the parents. However, I felt secured (regarding my daughter’s environmental allergies) by the way that physician-mom talked to me in person. I sent my daughter away to have fun at the birthday party.
My husband offered to pick up my daughter on his way back from the birthday party.
Around the same time another parent of my son’s classmate (in preschool) called me up to sync up a play date at her house for the evening. I knew my 4 year old shy son was a close friend of her son. But still I was hesitant to drop him off at another stranger-mom’s home.
I planned to sit in their backyard and edit while the kids played inside the home. But when I reached there, I found the house was clean, safe and siblings were having fun within limits. I felt a comfortable yes flowing out from within. My son waved me bye from the playing area and told me that like a big boy he would visit the restroom periodically while playing.
I went to the neighborhood park and started editing the dedication in the sinking sunlight. After an hour, I called up their home. The mother informed me that the kids wanted to play for another hour. My son repeated the same request and asked for my permission to eat the food she had cooked. I heard my "yes" coming out.
Once home, I started working hard and fast. Just then the door bell rang downstairs. I ignored it thinking they were my daughter’s friends. Next time the bell and my cell phone rang simultaneously. I took the phone call from my neighbor, who was ringing my door bell. Without getting into any formalities, I took the key from her hands to be given to somebody the next day, closed the door and rushed back to work.
I was in tears of joy, while putting up the dedication on my blog and emailing the link to my family members in India.
When I was driving to pick up my son, I sensed with gratitude that favorable circumstances had been especially arranged to fulfill my intention.
***
During my return journey from India, it occurred to me that my holiday was actually going to get over. I knew that after the next 11 hours (flying from Frankfurt to Los Angeles), the moment I would reach US, it would be the same old routine and responsibilities for me. In that moment it struck me that even though I know that I am not able to sit or sleep comfortably on the cushioned seats of the aircraft (because of my back injury); but instead of complaining I should choose to do something that is fun before my holiday terminates.
I knew my children and husband will eat, watch a movie and sleep; something I cannot do. So may be I should go around and have fun, enjoy all the infants on the flight, talk to the crew members and just hang around and write; without even thinking about my disability to sit or sleep. I heard myself saying, “I am going to have fun during this longest flight of my return journey.”
Once I was inside the plane, I found myself smiling when most of the other passengers were complaining about the anticipated long-killer flight.
After the first meal was served, I started following my plan. When most of the passengers in my cabin (lower level executive class) started getting ready to sleep, I stepped out of my seat and started conversing with the friendly crew. They talked about their lives on the ground when they are not flying high in the air. Those conversations were really fun and informative.
Then, I stepped out of the executive class to take a walk down the economy class. I started with my favorite i.e., playing with the infants sitting in the bassinets. While I was doing that, I saw the food cart coming towards me. I decided to interrupt my joyful interaction and move out of the way.
I found myself climbing stairs to take a walk on the upper level of the executive class. When I reached there, I was surprised to find that there were only four passengers. That gave me an idea that I could lie down on the area in front of the emergency exit door (like poor people sleeping on the side walk in India). That way my body would get the much needed rest and I would still be out of the way of passengers walking by.
I came down and shared this idea with my friendly crew members in the lower level. The lower level crew head immediately contacted the upper level crew head.
The crew head upstairs turned out to be not so kind and asked me to lie down in between the two seats. The seats were broad enough for me to squeeze in, but had three humps (protecting the cables under them) thereby making it not such a rosy bed. I knew that my body was crying for some rest. Therefore, I decided to lie down on my only choice of bed. I spread layers of blankets on the floor, took one on top of me, used my yoga blocks to support my feet and covered the eyes with my fleece jacket.
After 10 minutes of trying to sleep, I suddenly heard something fall. I thought it must be someone’s luggage dropping down from the cabin (above) during turbulence. When I removed my jacket from the eyes, it was all dark around me. I realized that something had fallen right on top of my face and “that something” was the front seat. All crew members came running when I called for help.
They lifted the fallen seat and helped me come out. I was told that the upper level crew head had allowed some sick passenger from economy class to come and sit there. However, when that passenger tried to open the seat, something snapped out and instead of 135°, the seat opened to 180°. Luckily it stopped just a few centimeters above my nose and the padding of my jacket saved my nose from getting injured.
I declared to the panicky crew, I refuse to sleep in between any seats. It was then that not-so-friendly head of the crew upstairs yielded and allowed me to lie down in front of the emergency exit area which was twice in width, smooth (no humps) and had no passengers sitting on the either of its four sides.
When I was preparing my make-shift bed in that area for a relaxing nap, I knew my intention had been heard and arranged for.
***
During my recent trip to India, I was trying to locate an old classmate from school. I was sincerely trying to reach him to make an apology for a long-forgotten-but-freshly-realized mistake committed by me; for which he had to suffer (during our high school years together).
But the only information I had was his first name and the year he joined the specific branch of the armed forces.
I asked a senior ex-service man (a neighbor of my aunt) for help. He told me point blank that without the "badge number" of a serviceman, I was looking for a needle in a haystack. He told me it was an almost impossible task.
I realized I needed to ask someone else for help. Next, I asked a dear old friend from IIT days for the same help; knowing that she has and had all men in her family (father, brother and husband) dedicated to the same branch of these services. Despite her sincere intentions to help me, she admitted that it was going to be extremely difficult to locate my old classmate with “such little information”.
After ten days when we were leaving from Delhi, she came to say good bye. That day she told me her plans to continue looking for my old classmate’s contact and of passing the information ASAP.
A fortnight later, she sent an email message (to my husband) with the cell phone number of my old classmate.
As soon as I read the forwarded message from my husband, I immediately called up the old classmate and apologized. He was shocked to hear my voice and even more shocked to know that I could reach him with that “little information”. He kept on asking me repeatedly, “How could you locate me with that “little information” amongst hundreds of service men in that 21 year old batch?”
I told him, “It got arranged”.
***
I now believe that intentions get arranged in its “spring season”.
With this newly found trust in the power of intention; today I pray that my aspiration to contribute towards educating young kids via exploration gets arranged. Now, I know that it will be arranged; without my worrying about "how" it will be arranged.
For all these experiences, I thank God for guiding me through this “maze” called life; just as I guide my 4 year old son (who is learning his alphabets) with his full-of-big-words-state-capital 48 piece puzzles.
When the above mentioned experiences happened, I found myself in the same state of joy as does my son on successfully completing his puzzles.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
How do I deal with ups and downs in life?
How do I deal with ups and downs in life, the normal expected fluctuations in life?
Registering the following truths (over the last one year) helped me answer this question:
# Life comes in phases and it is always changing.
# All thing happens for good, even if I cannot "see" the good when it "appears" to be bad.
# Complaining about people's actions, our own actions or circumstances DOES NOT help. So it is best to STOP THINKING or TALKING in that direction to prevent staying stuck in a "self knitted net".
# All of these well wishing people around me (friends or family) are FINITE; therefore they can only provide limited support or help.
# SEEKING help from the INFINITE source within me can only provide the much-needed infinite love, peace and joy.
# Life happens. It is not good or bad.
# I should GIVE LOVE TO OTHERS to create the missing love in my life. I can do so by TAKING INFINITE LOVE from the one within.
# Most important, it is only this present moment that I have. I can CHOOSE to enjoy and give love; or complain and brood. Therefore I choose to CONSTANTLY PRAY and make the right choices.
I have NOW realized a secret that once I am happier; I do start emanating and spreading out more happiness around me.
Understanding these truths has been a blessing, even though following them is not so easy.
Registering the following truths (over the last one year) helped me answer this question:
# Life comes in phases and it is always changing.
# All thing happens for good, even if I cannot "see" the good when it "appears" to be bad.
# Complaining about people's actions, our own actions or circumstances DOES NOT help. So it is best to STOP THINKING or TALKING in that direction to prevent staying stuck in a "self knitted net".
# All of these well wishing people around me (friends or family) are FINITE; therefore they can only provide limited support or help.
# SEEKING help from the INFINITE source within me can only provide the much-needed infinite love, peace and joy.
# Life happens. It is not good or bad.
# I should GIVE LOVE TO OTHERS to create the missing love in my life. I can do so by TAKING INFINITE LOVE from the one within.
# Most important, it is only this present moment that I have. I can CHOOSE to enjoy and give love; or complain and brood. Therefore I choose to CONSTANTLY PRAY and make the right choices.
I have NOW realized a secret that once I am happier; I do start emanating and spreading out more happiness around me.
Understanding these truths has been a blessing, even though following them is not so easy.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Feeling Love in the Air
Introduction
Last October, I explored “speed” with 9 and 10 year old students in my daughter’s class. My intention was to make the students open their inherent “wisdom” box to explore the world around them. Even though it was the first lesson, I feel that similar exposures have the potential to sow the "seed of inquisitiveness” in these students, just the way it was sown in my mind, when I was 9 years old.
This little activity at my daughter’s school, took me back in time. It was surprising for me to see, how a simple insignificant event like this could take me decades back, revisiting, down the memory lane. This recent journey (through my past) began at my first school.
Back to school
The flashback started off with me remembering my good-old days. I used to go every morning (for the day) to my favorite place away from home - MY SCHOOL.
My school building was L-shaped and had only 2 levels. The best part about my school was those “huge rocks”, which were actually “left over” from the hills which existed before the school building was constructed. Those ROCKS had beautifully planted multicolored flowers on them. There were also closely spaced big, green trees every where, on which the birds sat and chirped melodious songs all day. In addition, the rainbow-colored butterflies constantly visited the small and big lush green gardens next to the class rooms. This beautiful vast view was visible from most of the class rooms. I think those classrooms were special too, because the sun rays always blessed each classroom during sometime of the day.
Even though my school was one of the smaller private schools in the neighborhood, but to me it never seemed “small”. To me, it was perfect. I liked everything about it. In all the 10 years I was there (from grade 1 through 10) it showered me different gifts each day. That cute-little school was a blessing to me for it gave me space to grow, instilled good moral values and provided ample opportunities to gain confidence on the stage. To me, in that school, singing or dancing on the stage in front of hundreds of parents, teachers and students never seemed like an “issue”. Perhaps, it was for those personal gifts which I received each day that sometimes-broken-swings, old-furniture and lack-of-well-equipped-laboratories which mattered a lot to the parents, did not matter to me.
All through those 10 years, I was very fond of my school, its building, the warm administrators, loving friends and affectionate teachers. And above all these was the school’s policy about encouraging students to develop self-discipline. I feel that small school in some un-describe-able ways resonated with my “value” frequency. I was absolutely “myself” in that school.
My first science fair
When I was 9 years old, I saw "something so interesting" in my first science fair, that it left a lifelong impact on my mind.
That science fair had been put up by middle school students in the largest room of my small school. The students who had set up “that interesting” project were 2 girls. I knew one of those girls very well as she was my friend’s elder sister.
On that fateful day, I was drifting along with all the other students of my class slowly along a long line. The middle school students were explaining what they were exhibiting in their projects.
Since I was very comfortable with my friend’s sister, while continuing to look at the 3-D display I kept on asking her questions, one after another.
On one side, that display showed how people can irrigate their fields by using water from the well. On the other side it displayed how, when the same water was made to fall on a turbine, it rotated and generated electricity. That simple layout of plastic 2 inches tall “toy-farmer”, hand colored “brown brick well”, “blue colored water” on the base and the pictures (put up on the display board behind the setup) of how we use that electricity is still fresh in my memory. I clearly remember that it depicted an example of consuming electricity by showing 4 inches tall “street lights” standing on either side of the gray colored “streets” (marked on the base of the display). That complete display which was contained on a 12” x 24” cardboard base spoke volumes to me that day.
While I was bombarding questions, I noticed that all the students behind me had walked way ahead, admiring the colors, working demonstrations and the projects of other exhibitors. I knew I was getting late to catch up with them, but I could not stop myself from asking more and more questions (with my eyes continuously glued on that display). I think those two girls from middle school got tired of answering my endless questions and reminded me that I better catch up with my classmates. I saw my friend’s sister plucking a little toy from her display and offering it to me (as a little gift) just before I ran to catch up with my classmates.
That day I did not get to see any of the other projects, but I did not really miss anything. That simple project (about generation of electricity from water) had sown the seed of inquiry within me.
Moving on
After some years, I realized that I really enjoyed studying Math, Physics and some parts of Chemistry. Whether, the teacher who taught Physics was good, OK, or very bad, it did not matter to me. Also, the attraction to Physics turned to be of the same degree as was my repulsion away from Biology.
Since my school was only till grade 10, I had to move on to a big-and-popular school to complete grade 11 and 12.
The claustrophobic big school
That new school turned out to be large both in its size and the number of students. However, that large building felt very claustrophobic to me. That huge three level “square shape” building, very far away from trees, “minus” the hills/ rocks, the birds and the butterflies seemed to be clamping my energy in more than one way.
My new classroom (for grade 11) in that big-popular school had unfortunately never ever experienced the gentle touch of sun-rays. All I could see out from the windows (sitting on my front desk) were either the cemented walls or another similar classroom.
With each passing day, I started feeling more and more uncomfortable, because of “strict sense of discipline code” prevalent in that new school. I observed fear-inducing looks from teachers towards the students. I constantly sensed a discomfort which is similar to what I feel on hearing the ambulance alarm while driving on the road.
After a few months, my class teacher announced that I had been chosen as one of the “prefect’s” of the school. The main responsibility of a “prefect” was to take care of student discipline during morning assembly and lunch breaks. However, that simple announcement caused a volcano of “jealousy” to erupt out of some of my classmates. For them, since they were old students (studying there from kindergarten), to be a “prefect” was a ten-year-long-cherished-opportunity-to-rule-the-school. They felt, that I came and snatched away their dream of ruling the kingdom. Their friendly, warm smiles were instantly replaced by harsh, rude, sarcasm expressing their frustration. I found myself in circumstances beyond my control. That new air of animosity started acting like a “slow poison” for me.
I would share all these experiences with my mother and friends at home. But no body could help me change the world that was happening around me. I was told that it would be a similar story in all big schools. Therefore, the idea of changing the school was ruled out. When all this was happening, I realized that the perfectly-equipped-laboratories, the great-furniture and always-clean-corridors in the new-big-school had started becoming meaningless. I was longing for my peace of mind.
Big problems in big school
But little did I know that things could get worse than that “trailer” for me. Soon after, a “new student” joined my class. The class teacher asked me to help him out with math so that he does not feel so lost. During that helping phase, that “new student” spoke out his heartfelt emotions to me. I was shocked. I knew very clearly that I did not want to get into any “emotional entanglements” at that stage of my life. I just wanted to focus on my studies without getting distracted. Therefore, I immediately said NO.
I shared this story with my elder sister. She told me that “these” kind of street side “Romeos” moving with their heart on the sleeves was also a big part of the real world. No body means anything and asked me not to pay much attention to it. I followed “the advice”, while searching even harder for my out-of-sight PEACE OF MIND.
I felt hurt that he took undue advantage of my friendship. I was angry that he betrayed my trust as a friend.
Soon, I realized that things could be even more “turbulent”. Every morning, when I would reach school, on the inside of my wooden desk, I would find some heart shapes and insane words written (in chalk). The things had started bothering me beyond my breakpoint. I would break down in tears on seeing that, so often, that I would drench my dear friend and desk-mate’s handkerchief as well as her navy-blue-blazer with my tears. I felt angry and frustrated.
When the notes did not stop, I reported it to my class teacher and pointed that perhaps, the “new student” was the potential writer.
After that “reporting day”, even if we would cross each other’s way, the “new student” would not even greet or smile. We had stopped talking to each other. I knew because of the strict discipline code, he must have gotten a strong dose from the class teacher. I could see it from his long and pale face that the dose was perhaps too much for him. My mind reasoned it out each time by saying that I had no choice. I reported against him to stop that every-morning-nonsense-on-my-desk.
Unfortunately, that “reporting” did not solve my problem. The notes on my desk continued to appear. It was then that I registered that the “new student” was not the artist behind that art work. I felt bad that I had reported “that dirty art work” against him. I felt sad for speaking about his heartfelt emotions to the class teacher. I realized I had committed a mistake. But I did not do anything to undo it. I just kept quiet.
My best Physics teacher
Amidst that “chaos” going on inside my mind, I graduated to grade 12 along with all my classmates. It was in grade 12 that I finally came across some thing good in that new- BIG-popular-school.
It was our Physics teacher in grade 12. That teacher knew what he was teaching and knew how to teach. He was a rare combination of knowledge (about the subject), passion (to share) and the wisdom (to teach). Whatever, he taught, the examples, the derivations and concepts are still with me, fresh in my memory bank. I owe that teacher a lot for giving the much-needed-water-and-the-sun to my “seed of inquisitiveness”, after nearly 7 years. I knew it in Grade 12 that I enjoyed studying Physics more than any other subject.
The perturbed mind
On the personal front, the silence between me and the “new student” continued. Each time, I would turn around from my front desk, to bring out my notebooks from the bag I would find him looking at him sitting at the last desk. I would feel so uncomfortable that I would immediately look away.
His “gaze” had started bothering me. I felt disturbed. We would not even exchange a smile or a word with each other, but the “strange way” in which he looked at me from the far end of those long corridors would stir me up. My heart had recognized that his feelings were true.
There were moments when I found myself smiling about it (during my sleep), but just then my mind would start knocking; reminding me that I should not get distracted at this age.
Then I heard from other students that the “new student” had started drinking-at-late-night-parties. I could see that his health was deteriorating. I heard my logical mind speak loud and clear, “He is a weak person and it is his life. Why do I need to worry?” Each morning and during the day, I would pretend (to myself) as if all was fine with me and nothing was bothering me.
But somewhere, without my own awareness, I was slowly getting eaten up by the unhygienic-and-poisoning environment of the school, the cold teachers, the harsh classmates and to add to all that, the looks from the “new student”. I was very mad at the “new student” for causing such a “wreck” in my mind. I had started feeling disgusted with most of the other boys too; the ones who (like him) seemed to be having "nothing better” on their minds. I wished, I could scream aloud in school, “Can someone please SHIP all these boys away to a neighboring planet?”
The final, crucial, grade 12 “board exams” were approaching, but I just could not sleep. I would be restless. I would try to sleep, but no sleep would enter my closed, burning eyes. In India at that time, the grade 12 exams results were extremely crucial for getting admission into college. My mother noticed my state. She started giving me a mild dose of a “sleeping pill” at 2 am every other day. It was a forced “shut-eye”, and I would continue to feel drowsy the next day. I was tired, clamped, lost, anxious, frustrated and unhappy. I was simply not myself.
Out of the prison
Once the exams got over, I heard myself screaming “Finally, I am free”. I felt as if I had been released from a 2 year long imprisonment. I was genuinely happy after leaving that school and its “suffocating” environment.
But, I was still in touch with some of the friends from my ex-new-school. We were all free and were enjoying the stress free time. During those fun times, someone would mention about the latest stories relating to all the other students of the class. Even without my asking, I would get updated about that “new student” and his getting-off-the-track stories.
Being myself again
Then one day I was alone at home, relaxing, at ease and feeling myself (after over 2 years). In that quiet moment, I heard a soft voice from within. I heard that “if” all that had happened in that “new student’s” life was somewhere because of me and “if” my talking to him can change something. Then perhaps, I should talk to him, before it was too late.
This time, I followed my heart’s voice (without discussing it with anyone) and called up the “new student” at his home. All I remember now, of that conversation is me telling him, “Don’t ruin your life”. It was a monologue consisting of impromptu words flowing out genuinely from my heart. All I heard from the other side were some sounds confirming that he was there on the other side, listening to me. I ended the call by wishing him good luck and good bye.
When I kept the phone down, I felt RELIEVED and light. Perhaps, because after so many years, I had done what I felt was “right”.
Towards the end of that year, I heard from some common friends that the “new student” had cleared some exams, interviews and was back-on-the-track. I was really happy for myself and for him.
Then one evening, due to a viral infection and high temperature, I was sleeping in my bed. Suddenly, the phone (in the lobby) started ringing and woke me up. Since, everyone in my family was outside they could not hear it ringing. Therefore, I dragged myself (out of the bed) to take the call. It turned out to be a “blank call”. I kept on saying “Hello”, but nobody spoke from the other side. I kept the phone down and starting walking back towards the bed. Just then the phone started ringing again. Once again, nobody spoke. In that moment, I remembered (like a flash) that it was time for the “new student” to leave his home; to start his new life. When the phone rang again, I knew who was calling (without having caller ID feature on my phone). I was quiet and he was quiet. Since, I knew that I did not want "it" to continue any further. I kept the phone down after that brief spell of silence.
My turbulent high school chapter ended SILENTLY.
Happier days at college
I had a wonderful time in college. Life was relaxed for a change. Once again, I started singing (in the cafeteria), dancing at the college festivals and laughing (in the corridors) with the friends. Sometimes, we would laugh so much that our eyes would water and tummy would hurt.
Life was great with so many lovely friends, so much of time, no attendance compulsion and boundless creativity. There were no worries, no responsibilities and no complains in life.
In college, once again, I was comfortable with boys around me. I no longer wished them to be sent to another planet.
I and my friends would fight over those crumbs of chocolate cake in the college gardens. We would read each others palms in the bright-sunny-tennis-lawns. During palm reading session, they would chase me till the far away boundary of the college, when I would tell them about the number of affairs they would be having.
I had started celebrating every small little event, by buying coffee for all friends, be it for getting the highest score in a small test or for buying a new dress.
To reach university, I had to travel for an hour (each way) in an exclusively university student's bus (called U-spl). But that long commute time never bothered me. With my new friends (made in that bus), I would sing endlessly, comfortably sitting on that dirty floor of the bus. We would, read famous Lynda Goodman’s “Sun sign book” as a group and analyze each others characteristics. Discussing what we wanted most in life was a favorite topic of discussion during that “seemingly short” commute hour.
Together, we would create happiness by doing anything, anywhere. One day while eating with my friends at a restaurant and getting bothered by the smokers around us. We decided to find out from those smokers as to why on earth do they smoke. To get our answers, we pretended to be reporters (for “YuvaVani”, a radio channel for the youth) and started interviewing smokers in that restaurant. That afternoon, while moving with a folder and a pen from table to table, we did get some very convincing and interesting answers for our research problem; but more than anything else it was PURE fun.
Hanging out together as a group, we would play games, take vocabulary tests, sing our favorite advertisements and stuff ourselves into that small Archie’s card shop while trying to help a friend choose one card. Also, we would (very often) start singing together in the middle of serving ourselves food at a party, the moment we would hear the starting music of our favorite ghazal (“Who kagaz ki kashti”). That animated chorus (which was most of the time out of tune) while holding those serving spoons/plates in hands, closed eyes and bodies swaying to the rhythm of the song; is one of the most memorable-musical-moments-of-my-life.
When it came to studying Physics, we would all study together (sincerely), but just before the exams. The "fun" did not affect the studies or the grades. But, truly speaking, studying was only a small fraction of the college life.
In that sunny-bright-spread–out-green-campus, I was myself once again like what I was in my first school. During that “wonderful” phase, I gradually forgot about the “torturous” phase and the “miserable” things that happened to me in that big school.
Stepping into other’s shoes
Once I completed MS is Physics, I experienced (for the first time in my life) a very strong and strange set of feelings. I started observing an invisible-to-the-eyes ENERGY FLOW between me and “that person”; even though we would be sitting six inches or more apart. I knew it did not make any sense, but I found myself floating in a joyful state. To my loudly thinking heart everything was feeling “right”.
Soon, I shared my heart felt feelings face-to-face with “that person”. But this time I got to hear a NO.
Later, while lying on my drenched pillow, I felt as if a sharp knife was penetrating slowly inside my heart. I experienced, for the first time in my life, as to what it “feels like heartbroken”. I cried and cried. I said sorry to the “new student” for having hurt him without my awareness. In that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment, after 6 years, I truly empathized with him. I felt a deep sense of gratitude towards God and him for trying to “give” me the love that I was wishing to “give” to “that person”.
With all my close friends either married, or away for pursuing higher studies, I found myself very lonely during that emotionally “low phase”. I found my could-not-be-controlled tears rolling out of my eyes while looking out of the window (while traveling in the bus), inside the restrooms, cooking alone in the kitchen, working in the laboratory, standing in the elevator and even inside the lecture hall (while taking down lecture notes). The tears would rush out just anytime and anywhere; whenever I knew nobody was looking at me. It was then that I realized that “the same circumstances” could have been much worse for me, if “that person” was in front of my eyes everyday. Something, that “new student” had to undergo everyday. I REGRETTED judging the “new student” as weak, so many years ago.
Coming out of the "low phase"
The company of my parents helped a lot during that “low phase”. Just having a cup of tea with them provided me the much-needed security. It was a pure blessing. To me, those moments of just being together, without even discussing my hurt feelings were very comforting.
One day, I saw a physically handicapped person, sitting on his wheel chair, struggling to press the buttons of the elevator. All through those few minutes, despite his disabilities, he was smiling from his eyes. It struck me in that moment that I had no reason to feel so sad when I had my mind, hands and legs working fine; unlike so many unfortunate people around me. That newly AWAKENED SENSE OF GRATITUDE shook me up; and I stopped crying anywhere and everywhere.
But my thoughts continued to drive me crazy. Each morning, the moment I would wake up (with my eyes still closed), I would rush out of the bed for a walk before my wandering thoughts would sway me in the “that person’s” direction. I STARTED USING MY WILL TO STOP MY THOUGHTS FROM DRIFTING IN THE WRONG DIRETCION. With practice, over time, the will proved victorious.
I CONSTANTLY PRAYED TO GOD for the “right thinking”. I encountered my “first ever conspicuous spiritual experience” with the divinity residing within me. I realized that during all those previous years, the idols I worshipped and the temples I went to; were simply providing an environment conducive to concentrate on Him. All through, He was within me, I just was not aware of it.
That first realization led me to reading some sacred books like “Bhagwad Gita” and “Complete works of Vivekananda”. Throughout the day I would keep myself very busy with the people, physical and mental work. In the night, when I would be dead tired, I would read these sacred books in bed until my eyes would close on their own. These readings greatly helped in calming down the conflict between my will and my desires.
Experiencing physical pain
In January 2007, my lower back got hurt. It was during that extremely painful phase of bed confinement, limping around and disability to sit, that I sincerely prayed and re-connected to the divinity within.
While experiencing those wide variety of physical pains, I started meditating, which like a blessed tool; started cleansing me. I started writing, which shifted my focus, and helped me heal emotionally. I started seeing things under His light, with a fresh perspective.
Through meditation and writing, I started realizing the errors I had committed in the recent and not-so-recent past.
Apologizing for the mistake
When I started writing this “story” remembering my school days in October (2007), suddenly, it struck me that I owed an apology to that “new student”. An apology for reporting against him, the “every morning art work on my desk”; something he had not done.
As if God wanted me to apologize, with a friend’s help, I got his cell phone number. I immediately called him up (in India) and offered my apologies. While talking, I felt “lighter” as if a paper weight had been lifted off my head; letting my anger fly away.
After some days, I heard that familiar soft voice (from within) urging me to speak all I wished to communicate in that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment; and I found myself following it.
I sincerely apologized for hurting him without my awareness and for calling him weak. I respectfully, “thanked” him for his feelings towards me then and for allowing me to communicate it now. All this I said in a flow; as if I would pause, my ego might stop me. That was a significant, emancipating moment for me; for I felt I was floating-like-an-astronaut-inside-a-zero-gravity-space-shuttle.
When I kept the phone down, I experienced a lingering happiness in a quiet, peaceful state of mind. That happiness felt more profound than my "normal happiness" expressed as singing and dancing.
Looking back with new faith
To me writing of these past events is similar to landing up pulling out six inches of the thread out of my dress, when all I intended was to take care of that half an inch long thread sitting on top of my dress.
Now, when I am revisiting my student life under a NEW light, I am “seeing” everything with a new perspective.
***
Looking back with new faith, I feel it is an important part of “growing up” to experience all kinds of pains, be it physical or emotional; even though it is not fun to be in. It is important because, it is only during these “sufferings”, that I actually found my true-constant-inherent-and-infinite-source-of-joy, the one residing within me.
So far, I have lived my life in distinct phases of happy-in-mundane-world, angry-with-people-and-circumstances or remembering-Him-in-pain. Now, I wish to choose a life which is joyful-in-mundane-world (with all people under all circumstances) but with my-thoughts-constantly-anchored-to-the-one-within. Today, I PRAY TO BE ALWAYS CONNECTED WITH THE DIVINITY WITHIN.
Thanks to this connection, I started meditating and writing. It seems to me, that just as the objects hiding under a heavy rug, become visible only once it is lifted off; and once visible, these “objects” need to be picked up and taken care of. Similarly, during meditation and writing, NOW, I am able to “see” the errors I had committed in my past. Presently, I am finding myself in the midst of a process, taking care of those long-forgotten-now-conspicuous-mistakes. Apologizing to an old classmate, someone I was really angry at (so many years ago), seems to be one-small-yet-significant step in the right direction.
***
Also, during this revisit, I re-discovered the three important keys to successful healing. The keys, I had discovered while recovering from the “heartbroken phase”. Since it worked for my mental healing, I believe it should also work for my physical healing. “Constant prayers”, “deep sense of gratitude” and “controlling of thoughts” were the 3 golden keys to healing. I am glad I re-discovered those lost keys, especially the “controlling of thoughts”.
Just as, I cautiously turn the steering wheel towards another lane, on seeing construction men working in my lane; to prevent an accident. Similarly, I could use my “will” to control my “mind” from going towards any “disheartening thoughts”; to prevent extended suffering.
I still remember that last year, during Holi (my favorite Indian festival of colors, music and dance) I was bed-ridden-and-crying-in-pain. I believe that this year on my favorite festival (coming up in March), using these three keys, I WILL DANCE ONCE AGAIN; without any pain.
***
Now, I also understand that feelings happen; but emotions can be controlled.
Now that I am a parent myself, I know that there is a “special support” which only a parent can provide. This realization makes me wish that I had shared my mental chaos (in high school) and heartbroken state (after MS) with my parents; instead of sharing it only with my sister or friends.
Further, I wish I had honestly acknowledged my heart felt feelings to myself (in high school); keeping aside all my fears of getting distracted off studies.
These realizations make me pray that neither mine nor anyone else's growing-up-children, when faced with similar circumstances ever commit these two mistakes and suffer unnecessarily.
***
Another big Thanks to this NEW “connection”, for making me realize that all my held-up-anger-frustration-and-disgust-against-people is sliding “out and away” from me. As a result, presently (in this moment), I am experiencing this strange-and-strong-force to give a FULL HUG to each and every person I meet. However, crazy it may sound, but to me it feels overwhelmingly “right”.
Presently, I am feeling “myself” once again; loving-hugging everyone. As if, I have been reconnected to an infinite source of love which was lying “blocked” within me all these years. This feels so much like how water starts flowing freely through a water hose, when a knot along its length gets undone.
Ever since I allowed myself to “give” this “feels right” FULL HUG, I am observing that “things” are changing between me and people around me. In this moment, I can truly feel that “Love” is in the air.
***
I thank Him for giving me this “chance”, to receive and give His love, to be able to write my never-ever-shared-personal-and-sacred-stories honestly and have the courage to share it with all of you.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
Gunjan
DELETED SECTIONS
Here are some of the deleted sections from this story. I strongly feel that even though the main text reads complete without the following sections. Still these “could not be added sections” are definitely worth reading.
Bothersome Biology
It was a struggle for me to remember those long classifications in Biology. My struggle with Biology kept on increasing and became un-surmountable with each passing day in grade 9 and 10. The Biology text book turned out to be my sleeping pill, “anytime” of the day. In addition my body would start acting funny. I would start feeling uneasy even with the sheer mention of “Biology”.
One of my friend (who was very comfortable with Biology), understood my plight and empathized with me. She would make notes out of several books for herself and share them with me so that I could pass the exam. I think she was a God sent blessing. She was an angel who helped me clear my Biology exam in grade 10. During those struggle-full 2 years (grade 9 and 10), I repeatedly told her that I owed her a lot. She would feel happy most of the time, but she did express her anger when she found out that I had scored one point more than her in the Biology exam.
However, when we were all leaving our school after grade 10 (for new schools); she asked me to promise her something. It was a promise that I would never ever choose Biology as one of the subjects in higher studies.
During that time, for grade 11 and 12, the students had to take 3 core subjects out of science /commerce / humanities stream, 1 language and 1 additional subject just to pass. Since I was interested in Science, I knew I will choose Physics, Mathematics and Chemistry as 3 core subjects. English was the obvious choice of the language. For the rest of world, I had a “choice” between Biology and Engineering Drawing (E.D.) as the fifth subject. But for me there wasn’t any choice. I knew I would take up the subject which DID NOT START with the letter “B”.
Interview at the new school
On the day of my interview at the new school, my father was “the guardian”. During the drive to that new school, walk up to the Principal’s office and while waiting outside, my father kept on saying, “Take Biology” and I kept on replying “No”. Since I had got decent score in Biology (in grade 10) he could not see any obvious excuse for me not to take up that subject. I tried to explain him how hard it was for me to pass that subject in grade 10, but he just would not get it.
Once inside the interview room, the principal asked me about the fifth subject, I immediately said “Engineering Drawing” even though I had no clue what that subject was all about. I wanted to take up that subject simply because I did not want to study Biology.
The principal stopped writing, and suggested with a command, “Why don’t you take up Biology?” He informed me that there were very few girls in that section every year and in the past the girls who went to that section, eventually landed up in the Biology section after experiencing a few weeks of loneliness.
I still remember clearly the sight of a big smile appearing on my father’s face (on hearing those words), as if his lost boat had been located by the search party. He said, “SEE”, looking at me. He then got up from his seat and while walking closer towards the principal said, “I have been trying to explain the same to her so that she can become a doctor. But she is just not listening.”
Now I had two adults sitting next to each other, like a stronger team, trying their level best to convince me that I was wrong in not taking up Biology. The principal argued, “Why should you take up hammer in your hands”. I refuted, “Dropping Biology is not equal to taking up hammers”. He reiterated, “You should listen to your father and take up Biology.” I replied back,” I can’t study biology”. He smiled and said, “No problem, you need not, you just need to pass”. I stamped my feet and said, “Yes, that is what I am trying to say, I KNOW I CANNOT EVEN PASS BIOLOGY”.
The argument went on and on. Both of them took turns and sometimes spoke together to somehow influence me to change my mind. The principal looked at his watch and realized that other students were waiting outside. Finally, he yielded and signed up the paper with the subject that did not start with the letter “B”.
I came out from that long, exhausting, and confrontational interview feeling victorious. I was happy that I could keep up my promise to the only-truly-understanding-soul-on-earth i.e. my dear friend from old school.
Last October, I explored “speed” with 9 and 10 year old students in my daughter’s class. My intention was to make the students open their inherent “wisdom” box to explore the world around them. Even though it was the first lesson, I feel that similar exposures have the potential to sow the "seed of inquisitiveness” in these students, just the way it was sown in my mind, when I was 9 years old.
This little activity at my daughter’s school, took me back in time. It was surprising for me to see, how a simple insignificant event like this could take me decades back, revisiting, down the memory lane. This recent journey (through my past) began at my first school.
Back to school
The flashback started off with me remembering my good-old days. I used to go every morning (for the day) to my favorite place away from home - MY SCHOOL.
My school building was L-shaped and had only 2 levels. The best part about my school was those “huge rocks”, which were actually “left over” from the hills which existed before the school building was constructed. Those ROCKS had beautifully planted multicolored flowers on them. There were also closely spaced big, green trees every where, on which the birds sat and chirped melodious songs all day. In addition, the rainbow-colored butterflies constantly visited the small and big lush green gardens next to the class rooms. This beautiful vast view was visible from most of the class rooms. I think those classrooms were special too, because the sun rays always blessed each classroom during sometime of the day.
Even though my school was one of the smaller private schools in the neighborhood, but to me it never seemed “small”. To me, it was perfect. I liked everything about it. In all the 10 years I was there (from grade 1 through 10) it showered me different gifts each day. That cute-little school was a blessing to me for it gave me space to grow, instilled good moral values and provided ample opportunities to gain confidence on the stage. To me, in that school, singing or dancing on the stage in front of hundreds of parents, teachers and students never seemed like an “issue”. Perhaps, it was for those personal gifts which I received each day that sometimes-broken-swings, old-furniture and lack-of-well-equipped-laboratories which mattered a lot to the parents, did not matter to me.
All through those 10 years, I was very fond of my school, its building, the warm administrators, loving friends and affectionate teachers. And above all these was the school’s policy about encouraging students to develop self-discipline. I feel that small school in some un-describe-able ways resonated with my “value” frequency. I was absolutely “myself” in that school.
My first science fair
When I was 9 years old, I saw "something so interesting" in my first science fair, that it left a lifelong impact on my mind.
That science fair had been put up by middle school students in the largest room of my small school. The students who had set up “that interesting” project were 2 girls. I knew one of those girls very well as she was my friend’s elder sister.
On that fateful day, I was drifting along with all the other students of my class slowly along a long line. The middle school students were explaining what they were exhibiting in their projects.
Since I was very comfortable with my friend’s sister, while continuing to look at the 3-D display I kept on asking her questions, one after another.
On one side, that display showed how people can irrigate their fields by using water from the well. On the other side it displayed how, when the same water was made to fall on a turbine, it rotated and generated electricity. That simple layout of plastic 2 inches tall “toy-farmer”, hand colored “brown brick well”, “blue colored water” on the base and the pictures (put up on the display board behind the setup) of how we use that electricity is still fresh in my memory. I clearly remember that it depicted an example of consuming electricity by showing 4 inches tall “street lights” standing on either side of the gray colored “streets” (marked on the base of the display). That complete display which was contained on a 12” x 24” cardboard base spoke volumes to me that day.
While I was bombarding questions, I noticed that all the students behind me had walked way ahead, admiring the colors, working demonstrations and the projects of other exhibitors. I knew I was getting late to catch up with them, but I could not stop myself from asking more and more questions (with my eyes continuously glued on that display). I think those two girls from middle school got tired of answering my endless questions and reminded me that I better catch up with my classmates. I saw my friend’s sister plucking a little toy from her display and offering it to me (as a little gift) just before I ran to catch up with my classmates.
That day I did not get to see any of the other projects, but I did not really miss anything. That simple project (about generation of electricity from water) had sown the seed of inquiry within me.
Moving on
After some years, I realized that I really enjoyed studying Math, Physics and some parts of Chemistry. Whether, the teacher who taught Physics was good, OK, or very bad, it did not matter to me. Also, the attraction to Physics turned to be of the same degree as was my repulsion away from Biology.
Since my school was only till grade 10, I had to move on to a big-and-popular school to complete grade 11 and 12.
The claustrophobic big school
That new school turned out to be large both in its size and the number of students. However, that large building felt very claustrophobic to me. That huge three level “square shape” building, very far away from trees, “minus” the hills/ rocks, the birds and the butterflies seemed to be clamping my energy in more than one way.
My new classroom (for grade 11) in that big-popular school had unfortunately never ever experienced the gentle touch of sun-rays. All I could see out from the windows (sitting on my front desk) were either the cemented walls or another similar classroom.
With each passing day, I started feeling more and more uncomfortable, because of “strict sense of discipline code” prevalent in that new school. I observed fear-inducing looks from teachers towards the students. I constantly sensed a discomfort which is similar to what I feel on hearing the ambulance alarm while driving on the road.
After a few months, my class teacher announced that I had been chosen as one of the “prefect’s” of the school. The main responsibility of a “prefect” was to take care of student discipline during morning assembly and lunch breaks. However, that simple announcement caused a volcano of “jealousy” to erupt out of some of my classmates. For them, since they were old students (studying there from kindergarten), to be a “prefect” was a ten-year-long-cherished-opportunity-to-rule-the-school. They felt, that I came and snatched away their dream of ruling the kingdom. Their friendly, warm smiles were instantly replaced by harsh, rude, sarcasm expressing their frustration. I found myself in circumstances beyond my control. That new air of animosity started acting like a “slow poison” for me.
I would share all these experiences with my mother and friends at home. But no body could help me change the world that was happening around me. I was told that it would be a similar story in all big schools. Therefore, the idea of changing the school was ruled out. When all this was happening, I realized that the perfectly-equipped-laboratories, the great-furniture and always-clean-corridors in the new-big-school had started becoming meaningless. I was longing for my peace of mind.
Big problems in big school
But little did I know that things could get worse than that “trailer” for me. Soon after, a “new student” joined my class. The class teacher asked me to help him out with math so that he does not feel so lost. During that helping phase, that “new student” spoke out his heartfelt emotions to me. I was shocked. I knew very clearly that I did not want to get into any “emotional entanglements” at that stage of my life. I just wanted to focus on my studies without getting distracted. Therefore, I immediately said NO.
I shared this story with my elder sister. She told me that “these” kind of street side “Romeos” moving with their heart on the sleeves was also a big part of the real world. No body means anything and asked me not to pay much attention to it. I followed “the advice”, while searching even harder for my out-of-sight PEACE OF MIND.
I felt hurt that he took undue advantage of my friendship. I was angry that he betrayed my trust as a friend.
Soon, I realized that things could be even more “turbulent”. Every morning, when I would reach school, on the inside of my wooden desk, I would find some heart shapes and insane words written (in chalk). The things had started bothering me beyond my breakpoint. I would break down in tears on seeing that, so often, that I would drench my dear friend and desk-mate’s handkerchief as well as her navy-blue-blazer with my tears. I felt angry and frustrated.
When the notes did not stop, I reported it to my class teacher and pointed that perhaps, the “new student” was the potential writer.
After that “reporting day”, even if we would cross each other’s way, the “new student” would not even greet or smile. We had stopped talking to each other. I knew because of the strict discipline code, he must have gotten a strong dose from the class teacher. I could see it from his long and pale face that the dose was perhaps too much for him. My mind reasoned it out each time by saying that I had no choice. I reported against him to stop that every-morning-nonsense-on-my-desk.
Unfortunately, that “reporting” did not solve my problem. The notes on my desk continued to appear. It was then that I registered that the “new student” was not the artist behind that art work. I felt bad that I had reported “that dirty art work” against him. I felt sad for speaking about his heartfelt emotions to the class teacher. I realized I had committed a mistake. But I did not do anything to undo it. I just kept quiet.
My best Physics teacher
Amidst that “chaos” going on inside my mind, I graduated to grade 12 along with all my classmates. It was in grade 12 that I finally came across some thing good in that new- BIG-popular-school.
It was our Physics teacher in grade 12. That teacher knew what he was teaching and knew how to teach. He was a rare combination of knowledge (about the subject), passion (to share) and the wisdom (to teach). Whatever, he taught, the examples, the derivations and concepts are still with me, fresh in my memory bank. I owe that teacher a lot for giving the much-needed-water-and-the-sun to my “seed of inquisitiveness”, after nearly 7 years. I knew it in Grade 12 that I enjoyed studying Physics more than any other subject.
The perturbed mind
On the personal front, the silence between me and the “new student” continued. Each time, I would turn around from my front desk, to bring out my notebooks from the bag I would find him looking at him sitting at the last desk. I would feel so uncomfortable that I would immediately look away.
His “gaze” had started bothering me. I felt disturbed. We would not even exchange a smile or a word with each other, but the “strange way” in which he looked at me from the far end of those long corridors would stir me up. My heart had recognized that his feelings were true.
There were moments when I found myself smiling about it (during my sleep), but just then my mind would start knocking; reminding me that I should not get distracted at this age.
Then I heard from other students that the “new student” had started drinking-at-late-night-parties. I could see that his health was deteriorating. I heard my logical mind speak loud and clear, “He is a weak person and it is his life. Why do I need to worry?” Each morning and during the day, I would pretend (to myself) as if all was fine with me and nothing was bothering me.
But somewhere, without my own awareness, I was slowly getting eaten up by the unhygienic-and-poisoning environment of the school, the cold teachers, the harsh classmates and to add to all that, the looks from the “new student”. I was very mad at the “new student” for causing such a “wreck” in my mind. I had started feeling disgusted with most of the other boys too; the ones who (like him) seemed to be having "nothing better” on their minds. I wished, I could scream aloud in school, “Can someone please SHIP all these boys away to a neighboring planet?”
The final, crucial, grade 12 “board exams” were approaching, but I just could not sleep. I would be restless. I would try to sleep, but no sleep would enter my closed, burning eyes. In India at that time, the grade 12 exams results were extremely crucial for getting admission into college. My mother noticed my state. She started giving me a mild dose of a “sleeping pill” at 2 am every other day. It was a forced “shut-eye”, and I would continue to feel drowsy the next day. I was tired, clamped, lost, anxious, frustrated and unhappy. I was simply not myself.
Out of the prison
Once the exams got over, I heard myself screaming “Finally, I am free”. I felt as if I had been released from a 2 year long imprisonment. I was genuinely happy after leaving that school and its “suffocating” environment.
But, I was still in touch with some of the friends from my ex-new-school. We were all free and were enjoying the stress free time. During those fun times, someone would mention about the latest stories relating to all the other students of the class. Even without my asking, I would get updated about that “new student” and his getting-off-the-track stories.
Being myself again
Then one day I was alone at home, relaxing, at ease and feeling myself (after over 2 years). In that quiet moment, I heard a soft voice from within. I heard that “if” all that had happened in that “new student’s” life was somewhere because of me and “if” my talking to him can change something. Then perhaps, I should talk to him, before it was too late.
This time, I followed my heart’s voice (without discussing it with anyone) and called up the “new student” at his home. All I remember now, of that conversation is me telling him, “Don’t ruin your life”. It was a monologue consisting of impromptu words flowing out genuinely from my heart. All I heard from the other side were some sounds confirming that he was there on the other side, listening to me. I ended the call by wishing him good luck and good bye.
When I kept the phone down, I felt RELIEVED and light. Perhaps, because after so many years, I had done what I felt was “right”.
Towards the end of that year, I heard from some common friends that the “new student” had cleared some exams, interviews and was back-on-the-track. I was really happy for myself and for him.
Then one evening, due to a viral infection and high temperature, I was sleeping in my bed. Suddenly, the phone (in the lobby) started ringing and woke me up. Since, everyone in my family was outside they could not hear it ringing. Therefore, I dragged myself (out of the bed) to take the call. It turned out to be a “blank call”. I kept on saying “Hello”, but nobody spoke from the other side. I kept the phone down and starting walking back towards the bed. Just then the phone started ringing again. Once again, nobody spoke. In that moment, I remembered (like a flash) that it was time for the “new student” to leave his home; to start his new life. When the phone rang again, I knew who was calling (without having caller ID feature on my phone). I was quiet and he was quiet. Since, I knew that I did not want "it" to continue any further. I kept the phone down after that brief spell of silence.
My turbulent high school chapter ended SILENTLY.
Happier days at college
I had a wonderful time in college. Life was relaxed for a change. Once again, I started singing (in the cafeteria), dancing at the college festivals and laughing (in the corridors) with the friends. Sometimes, we would laugh so much that our eyes would water and tummy would hurt.
Life was great with so many lovely friends, so much of time, no attendance compulsion and boundless creativity. There were no worries, no responsibilities and no complains in life.
In college, once again, I was comfortable with boys around me. I no longer wished them to be sent to another planet.
I and my friends would fight over those crumbs of chocolate cake in the college gardens. We would read each others palms in the bright-sunny-tennis-lawns. During palm reading session, they would chase me till the far away boundary of the college, when I would tell them about the number of affairs they would be having.
I had started celebrating every small little event, by buying coffee for all friends, be it for getting the highest score in a small test or for buying a new dress.
To reach university, I had to travel for an hour (each way) in an exclusively university student's bus (called U-spl). But that long commute time never bothered me. With my new friends (made in that bus), I would sing endlessly, comfortably sitting on that dirty floor of the bus. We would, read famous Lynda Goodman’s “Sun sign book” as a group and analyze each others characteristics. Discussing what we wanted most in life was a favorite topic of discussion during that “seemingly short” commute hour.
Together, we would create happiness by doing anything, anywhere. One day while eating with my friends at a restaurant and getting bothered by the smokers around us. We decided to find out from those smokers as to why on earth do they smoke. To get our answers, we pretended to be reporters (for “YuvaVani”, a radio channel for the youth) and started interviewing smokers in that restaurant. That afternoon, while moving with a folder and a pen from table to table, we did get some very convincing and interesting answers for our research problem; but more than anything else it was PURE fun.
Hanging out together as a group, we would play games, take vocabulary tests, sing our favorite advertisements and stuff ourselves into that small Archie’s card shop while trying to help a friend choose one card. Also, we would (very often) start singing together in the middle of serving ourselves food at a party, the moment we would hear the starting music of our favorite ghazal (“Who kagaz ki kashti”). That animated chorus (which was most of the time out of tune) while holding those serving spoons/plates in hands, closed eyes and bodies swaying to the rhythm of the song; is one of the most memorable-musical-moments-of-my-life.
When it came to studying Physics, we would all study together (sincerely), but just before the exams. The "fun" did not affect the studies or the grades. But, truly speaking, studying was only a small fraction of the college life.
In that sunny-bright-spread–out-green-campus, I was myself once again like what I was in my first school. During that “wonderful” phase, I gradually forgot about the “torturous” phase and the “miserable” things that happened to me in that big school.
Stepping into other’s shoes
Once I completed MS is Physics, I experienced (for the first time in my life) a very strong and strange set of feelings. I started observing an invisible-to-the-eyes ENERGY FLOW between me and “that person”; even though we would be sitting six inches or more apart. I knew it did not make any sense, but I found myself floating in a joyful state. To my loudly thinking heart everything was feeling “right”.
Soon, I shared my heart felt feelings face-to-face with “that person”. But this time I got to hear a NO.
Later, while lying on my drenched pillow, I felt as if a sharp knife was penetrating slowly inside my heart. I experienced, for the first time in my life, as to what it “feels like heartbroken”. I cried and cried. I said sorry to the “new student” for having hurt him without my awareness. In that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment, after 6 years, I truly empathized with him. I felt a deep sense of gratitude towards God and him for trying to “give” me the love that I was wishing to “give” to “that person”.
With all my close friends either married, or away for pursuing higher studies, I found myself very lonely during that emotionally “low phase”. I found my could-not-be-controlled tears rolling out of my eyes while looking out of the window (while traveling in the bus), inside the restrooms, cooking alone in the kitchen, working in the laboratory, standing in the elevator and even inside the lecture hall (while taking down lecture notes). The tears would rush out just anytime and anywhere; whenever I knew nobody was looking at me. It was then that I realized that “the same circumstances” could have been much worse for me, if “that person” was in front of my eyes everyday. Something, that “new student” had to undergo everyday. I REGRETTED judging the “new student” as weak, so many years ago.
Coming out of the "low phase"
The company of my parents helped a lot during that “low phase”. Just having a cup of tea with them provided me the much-needed security. It was a pure blessing. To me, those moments of just being together, without even discussing my hurt feelings were very comforting.
One day, I saw a physically handicapped person, sitting on his wheel chair, struggling to press the buttons of the elevator. All through those few minutes, despite his disabilities, he was smiling from his eyes. It struck me in that moment that I had no reason to feel so sad when I had my mind, hands and legs working fine; unlike so many unfortunate people around me. That newly AWAKENED SENSE OF GRATITUDE shook me up; and I stopped crying anywhere and everywhere.
But my thoughts continued to drive me crazy. Each morning, the moment I would wake up (with my eyes still closed), I would rush out of the bed for a walk before my wandering thoughts would sway me in the “that person’s” direction. I STARTED USING MY WILL TO STOP MY THOUGHTS FROM DRIFTING IN THE WRONG DIRETCION. With practice, over time, the will proved victorious.
I CONSTANTLY PRAYED TO GOD for the “right thinking”. I encountered my “first ever conspicuous spiritual experience” with the divinity residing within me. I realized that during all those previous years, the idols I worshipped and the temples I went to; were simply providing an environment conducive to concentrate on Him. All through, He was within me, I just was not aware of it.
That first realization led me to reading some sacred books like “Bhagwad Gita” and “Complete works of Vivekananda”. Throughout the day I would keep myself very busy with the people, physical and mental work. In the night, when I would be dead tired, I would read these sacred books in bed until my eyes would close on their own. These readings greatly helped in calming down the conflict between my will and my desires.
Experiencing physical pain
In January 2007, my lower back got hurt. It was during that extremely painful phase of bed confinement, limping around and disability to sit, that I sincerely prayed and re-connected to the divinity within.
While experiencing those wide variety of physical pains, I started meditating, which like a blessed tool; started cleansing me. I started writing, which shifted my focus, and helped me heal emotionally. I started seeing things under His light, with a fresh perspective.
Through meditation and writing, I started realizing the errors I had committed in the recent and not-so-recent past.
Apologizing for the mistake
When I started writing this “story” remembering my school days in October (2007), suddenly, it struck me that I owed an apology to that “new student”. An apology for reporting against him, the “every morning art work on my desk”; something he had not done.
As if God wanted me to apologize, with a friend’s help, I got his cell phone number. I immediately called him up (in India) and offered my apologies. While talking, I felt “lighter” as if a paper weight had been lifted off my head; letting my anger fly away.
After some days, I heard that familiar soft voice (from within) urging me to speak all I wished to communicate in that extremely-hurting-crying-melted-ego moment; and I found myself following it.
I sincerely apologized for hurting him without my awareness and for calling him weak. I respectfully, “thanked” him for his feelings towards me then and for allowing me to communicate it now. All this I said in a flow; as if I would pause, my ego might stop me. That was a significant, emancipating moment for me; for I felt I was floating-like-an-astronaut-inside-a-zero-gravity-space-shuttle.
When I kept the phone down, I experienced a lingering happiness in a quiet, peaceful state of mind. That happiness felt more profound than my "normal happiness" expressed as singing and dancing.
Looking back with new faith
To me writing of these past events is similar to landing up pulling out six inches of the thread out of my dress, when all I intended was to take care of that half an inch long thread sitting on top of my dress.
Now, when I am revisiting my student life under a NEW light, I am “seeing” everything with a new perspective.
***
Looking back with new faith, I feel it is an important part of “growing up” to experience all kinds of pains, be it physical or emotional; even though it is not fun to be in. It is important because, it is only during these “sufferings”, that I actually found my true-constant-inherent-and-infinite-source-of-joy, the one residing within me.
So far, I have lived my life in distinct phases of happy-in-mundane-world, angry-with-people-and-circumstances or remembering-Him-in-pain. Now, I wish to choose a life which is joyful-in-mundane-world (with all people under all circumstances) but with my-thoughts-constantly-anchored-to-the-one-within. Today, I PRAY TO BE ALWAYS CONNECTED WITH THE DIVINITY WITHIN.
Thanks to this connection, I started meditating and writing. It seems to me, that just as the objects hiding under a heavy rug, become visible only once it is lifted off; and once visible, these “objects” need to be picked up and taken care of. Similarly, during meditation and writing, NOW, I am able to “see” the errors I had committed in my past. Presently, I am finding myself in the midst of a process, taking care of those long-forgotten-now-conspicuous-mistakes. Apologizing to an old classmate, someone I was really angry at (so many years ago), seems to be one-small-yet-significant step in the right direction.
***
Also, during this revisit, I re-discovered the three important keys to successful healing. The keys, I had discovered while recovering from the “heartbroken phase”. Since it worked for my mental healing, I believe it should also work for my physical healing. “Constant prayers”, “deep sense of gratitude” and “controlling of thoughts” were the 3 golden keys to healing. I am glad I re-discovered those lost keys, especially the “controlling of thoughts”.
Just as, I cautiously turn the steering wheel towards another lane, on seeing construction men working in my lane; to prevent an accident. Similarly, I could use my “will” to control my “mind” from going towards any “disheartening thoughts”; to prevent extended suffering.
I still remember that last year, during Holi (my favorite Indian festival of colors, music and dance) I was bed-ridden-and-crying-in-pain. I believe that this year on my favorite festival (coming up in March), using these three keys, I WILL DANCE ONCE AGAIN; without any pain.
***
Now, I also understand that feelings happen; but emotions can be controlled.
Now that I am a parent myself, I know that there is a “special support” which only a parent can provide. This realization makes me wish that I had shared my mental chaos (in high school) and heartbroken state (after MS) with my parents; instead of sharing it only with my sister or friends.
Further, I wish I had honestly acknowledged my heart felt feelings to myself (in high school); keeping aside all my fears of getting distracted off studies.
These realizations make me pray that neither mine nor anyone else's growing-up-children, when faced with similar circumstances ever commit these two mistakes and suffer unnecessarily.
***
Another big Thanks to this NEW “connection”, for making me realize that all my held-up-anger-frustration-and-disgust-against-people is sliding “out and away” from me. As a result, presently (in this moment), I am experiencing this strange-and-strong-force to give a FULL HUG to each and every person I meet. However, crazy it may sound, but to me it feels overwhelmingly “right”.
Presently, I am feeling “myself” once again; loving-hugging everyone. As if, I have been reconnected to an infinite source of love which was lying “blocked” within me all these years. This feels so much like how water starts flowing freely through a water hose, when a knot along its length gets undone.
Ever since I allowed myself to “give” this “feels right” FULL HUG, I am observing that “things” are changing between me and people around me. In this moment, I can truly feel that “Love” is in the air.
***
I thank Him for giving me this “chance”, to receive and give His love, to be able to write my never-ever-shared-personal-and-sacred-stories honestly and have the courage to share it with all of you.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
Gunjan
DELETED SECTIONS
Here are some of the deleted sections from this story. I strongly feel that even though the main text reads complete without the following sections. Still these “could not be added sections” are definitely worth reading.
Bothersome Biology
It was a struggle for me to remember those long classifications in Biology. My struggle with Biology kept on increasing and became un-surmountable with each passing day in grade 9 and 10. The Biology text book turned out to be my sleeping pill, “anytime” of the day. In addition my body would start acting funny. I would start feeling uneasy even with the sheer mention of “Biology”.
One of my friend (who was very comfortable with Biology), understood my plight and empathized with me. She would make notes out of several books for herself and share them with me so that I could pass the exam. I think she was a God sent blessing. She was an angel who helped me clear my Biology exam in grade 10. During those struggle-full 2 years (grade 9 and 10), I repeatedly told her that I owed her a lot. She would feel happy most of the time, but she did express her anger when she found out that I had scored one point more than her in the Biology exam.
However, when we were all leaving our school after grade 10 (for new schools); she asked me to promise her something. It was a promise that I would never ever choose Biology as one of the subjects in higher studies.
During that time, for grade 11 and 12, the students had to take 3 core subjects out of science /commerce / humanities stream, 1 language and 1 additional subject just to pass. Since I was interested in Science, I knew I will choose Physics, Mathematics and Chemistry as 3 core subjects. English was the obvious choice of the language. For the rest of world, I had a “choice” between Biology and Engineering Drawing (E.D.) as the fifth subject. But for me there wasn’t any choice. I knew I would take up the subject which DID NOT START with the letter “B”.
Interview at the new school
On the day of my interview at the new school, my father was “the guardian”. During the drive to that new school, walk up to the Principal’s office and while waiting outside, my father kept on saying, “Take Biology” and I kept on replying “No”. Since I had got decent score in Biology (in grade 10) he could not see any obvious excuse for me not to take up that subject. I tried to explain him how hard it was for me to pass that subject in grade 10, but he just would not get it.
Once inside the interview room, the principal asked me about the fifth subject, I immediately said “Engineering Drawing” even though I had no clue what that subject was all about. I wanted to take up that subject simply because I did not want to study Biology.
The principal stopped writing, and suggested with a command, “Why don’t you take up Biology?” He informed me that there were very few girls in that section every year and in the past the girls who went to that section, eventually landed up in the Biology section after experiencing a few weeks of loneliness.
I still remember clearly the sight of a big smile appearing on my father’s face (on hearing those words), as if his lost boat had been located by the search party. He said, “SEE”, looking at me. He then got up from his seat and while walking closer towards the principal said, “I have been trying to explain the same to her so that she can become a doctor. But she is just not listening.”
Now I had two adults sitting next to each other, like a stronger team, trying their level best to convince me that I was wrong in not taking up Biology. The principal argued, “Why should you take up hammer in your hands”. I refuted, “Dropping Biology is not equal to taking up hammers”. He reiterated, “You should listen to your father and take up Biology.” I replied back,” I can’t study biology”. He smiled and said, “No problem, you need not, you just need to pass”. I stamped my feet and said, “Yes, that is what I am trying to say, I KNOW I CANNOT EVEN PASS BIOLOGY”.
The argument went on and on. Both of them took turns and sometimes spoke together to somehow influence me to change my mind. The principal looked at his watch and realized that other students were waiting outside. Finally, he yielded and signed up the paper with the subject that did not start with the letter “B”.
I came out from that long, exhausting, and confrontational interview feeling victorious. I was happy that I could keep up my promise to the only-truly-understanding-soul-on-earth i.e. my dear friend from old school.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Comprehending my Mother’s Love
It was my husband’s nephew’s 13th birthday in Delhi. We had logged in for a video conference from our home in the U.S. It was a happy moment, because our nephew had just finished cutting the cake. But my mind drifted off to memories associated with the same nephew’s 2nd birthday celebration, 11 years earlier.
***
In mid-September 1996, I was newly married and working to complete my Ph.D. thesis at IIT Delhi. I was aiming to submit it by the end of the month and I was racing against time working on weekdays and weekends.
I knew my mother was not keeping well, because each time I called, even during the day, I was told that she was resting. I was hoping that this sickness was like her all other minor spells of sickness and pain; that she would be back to normal in a few days. With no phone at my apartment, there was no way she could have returned my phone calls. During my last brief conversation with her, my mother had clearly communicated that she did not want to come and meet me because that would “eat up my time.”
Amidst all those harsh circumstances came the same nephew’s second birthday. It was a weekend, but I’d been working all day. Somehow, I managed to reach the party (in time) all dressed up in a sari. Once I reached, I started serving and carrying out conversations like a good hostess. I found myself sitting right next to the phone, surrounded by so many people talking to each other. I felt like calling up my mother but then stopped myself; it did not seem to be the appropriate place and time. Sitting there, purely as a physical body, I was doing what “I was supposed to be doing.”
On September 17, 1996, a little after midnight, my sister’s husband came to our apartment and informed us that my mother was in the hospital.
When I reached his car, I saw my sister sitting in the back seat with her head resting against the door. She was quiet; her eyes were closed and continuous tears rolled down her cheeks.
Later, sitting next to my mother’s still body, I wished that a miracle would happen, and she would stand up once again. The miracle did not happen.
I took a week “off,” despite that high-pressure-race-against-time-deadline. During that week, I regretted not taking a few hours “off” the previous week. I wished I had gone the previous week to see my mother resting, to listen to her or just to hold her hand. I realized that nothing stopped in the world around me when I actually took time off: neither the birds chirping nor the research going on at IIT.
***
After the video conference, I broke down. Once I had calmed down, I realized that I had learnt two profound lessons.
The first lesson was to start living in each moment called “now” with a raised consciousness.
The second lesson was that whenever I “hear” two conflicting voices—a soft voice and a loud voice within me—I should choose to obey the seldom-heard-soft voice and not yield to the constantly-dictating-louder-practical-answerable-to-people voice.
The transparent tears rolling down my face acted like magnifying glasses; I could clearly see the mistake I had made 11 years ago. The blunder had been to ignore my soft voice, which had “asked” me to call my mother on that birthday party night.
The next morning, I woke up refreshed and experienced a strong urge to write about my mother.
***
My mother was simple, kind, generous, and gentle in her ways. She was a loving mother to my eldest brother, my elder sister, and me. She was always available, waiting to hear from us, and willing to share her own life experiences.
She was there with me even when others would not come near me for the fear of catching infections, whether I had a common cold or chicken pox. Whenever I was sick as a child, my mother would give me mustard oil massages and sponge baths. Now, when I look back, I feel she showered love on her children under all circumstances constantly, like the sun gives us its sunlight all seven days of the week.
My mother gave me boundless support and encouragement when my friends or relatives would tease me about my short stature (5 feet). She would remind me that Gandhi was not tall, but he was still a great person. She would explain to me, lovingly, that all that matters in life is a strong character, which has to be nurtured and cultivated with one’s sincere efforts. To this day, I remember my tears and smile on hearing those golden words. Now, I thank her for successfully pulling me back up in each of those drowning moments.
Every afternoon, my mother would be waiting for my siblings and me to return from school. Then she would serve us her lovingly-cooked-delicious-warm food. Each day, she would cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all three different meals with no repetition of food groups. Now that I am a mother, I can truly appreciate how much love, dedication, physical, and mental effort she must have put in each day.
There were times when my mother would leave her food while eating and stand up to cook again as per my demands. This used to happen whenever I would throw a tantrum and refuse to eat rice. She would cook only rice during peak summer time in Delhi, mostly to escape the heat (110ยบ F) inside the kitchen. But little did she know that her youngest-child would insist on her making a fresh roti in that sweaty hot kitchen, where the temperature of the body was nearly the same as the temperature of the hot pan on the stove. Now, I feel inspired and touched by her willingness to sacrifice her own comfort.
I also remember those cold wintry nights when our entire family would watch the popular TV serial “Hum Log” inside a warm room sitting under comforters. In peak winter, my mother would step out alone into the street, walking towards the far away bus stop. She would wait there for about half an hour for my sister to come back in a bus after attending her night classes at the university. Why did she do that for an adult child? She would say that though she missed the serial and the warmth of the room, “nothing felt enjoyable” when her heart was worrying about her daughter walking alone down those lonely, dark roads. My mother thought from, listened to, and followed her heart. At that time, I used to tease her for worrying too much. Now, I fully understand, appreciate, and respect her heartfelt thoughts and actions.
My mother would call me in my hostel at IIT regularly, especially when I needed it most. My mother was the only person who could make out over the phone from my silence, my unspoken words, and unshed tears that I was feeling insecure and sad. She gave me what I needed most in delicate moments: her words, comfort, touch, food, and sometimes simply her unspoken physical presence. She would ask me to come home at the earliest and put her “security blanket” around me. Now, I experience that security only while praying.
***
Love is giving. I could not understand the giving-for-the-sake-of-giving part of love for several decades. I have finally registered it now that I have turned from receiving-daughter into giving-mother myself.
Today, I dedicatedly salute my mother for what she “gave” me to “give” to my own children.
***
In mid-September 1996, I was newly married and working to complete my Ph.D. thesis at IIT Delhi. I was aiming to submit it by the end of the month and I was racing against time working on weekdays and weekends.
I knew my mother was not keeping well, because each time I called, even during the day, I was told that she was resting. I was hoping that this sickness was like her all other minor spells of sickness and pain; that she would be back to normal in a few days. With no phone at my apartment, there was no way she could have returned my phone calls. During my last brief conversation with her, my mother had clearly communicated that she did not want to come and meet me because that would “eat up my time.”
Amidst all those harsh circumstances came the same nephew’s second birthday. It was a weekend, but I’d been working all day. Somehow, I managed to reach the party (in time) all dressed up in a sari. Once I reached, I started serving and carrying out conversations like a good hostess. I found myself sitting right next to the phone, surrounded by so many people talking to each other. I felt like calling up my mother but then stopped myself; it did not seem to be the appropriate place and time. Sitting there, purely as a physical body, I was doing what “I was supposed to be doing.”
On September 17, 1996, a little after midnight, my sister’s husband came to our apartment and informed us that my mother was in the hospital.
When I reached his car, I saw my sister sitting in the back seat with her head resting against the door. She was quiet; her eyes were closed and continuous tears rolled down her cheeks.
Later, sitting next to my mother’s still body, I wished that a miracle would happen, and she would stand up once again. The miracle did not happen.
I took a week “off,” despite that high-pressure-race-against-time-deadline. During that week, I regretted not taking a few hours “off” the previous week. I wished I had gone the previous week to see my mother resting, to listen to her or just to hold her hand. I realized that nothing stopped in the world around me when I actually took time off: neither the birds chirping nor the research going on at IIT.
***
After the video conference, I broke down. Once I had calmed down, I realized that I had learnt two profound lessons.
The first lesson was to start living in each moment called “now” with a raised consciousness.
The second lesson was that whenever I “hear” two conflicting voices—a soft voice and a loud voice within me—I should choose to obey the seldom-heard-soft voice and not yield to the constantly-dictating-louder-practical-answerable-to-people voice.
The transparent tears rolling down my face acted like magnifying glasses; I could clearly see the mistake I had made 11 years ago. The blunder had been to ignore my soft voice, which had “asked” me to call my mother on that birthday party night.
The next morning, I woke up refreshed and experienced a strong urge to write about my mother.
***
My mother was simple, kind, generous, and gentle in her ways. She was a loving mother to my eldest brother, my elder sister, and me. She was always available, waiting to hear from us, and willing to share her own life experiences.
She was there with me even when others would not come near me for the fear of catching infections, whether I had a common cold or chicken pox. Whenever I was sick as a child, my mother would give me mustard oil massages and sponge baths. Now, when I look back, I feel she showered love on her children under all circumstances constantly, like the sun gives us its sunlight all seven days of the week.
My mother gave me boundless support and encouragement when my friends or relatives would tease me about my short stature (5 feet). She would remind me that Gandhi was not tall, but he was still a great person. She would explain to me, lovingly, that all that matters in life is a strong character, which has to be nurtured and cultivated with one’s sincere efforts. To this day, I remember my tears and smile on hearing those golden words. Now, I thank her for successfully pulling me back up in each of those drowning moments.
Every afternoon, my mother would be waiting for my siblings and me to return from school. Then she would serve us her lovingly-cooked-delicious-warm food. Each day, she would cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all three different meals with no repetition of food groups. Now that I am a mother, I can truly appreciate how much love, dedication, physical, and mental effort she must have put in each day.
There were times when my mother would leave her food while eating and stand up to cook again as per my demands. This used to happen whenever I would throw a tantrum and refuse to eat rice. She would cook only rice during peak summer time in Delhi, mostly to escape the heat (110ยบ F) inside the kitchen. But little did she know that her youngest-child would insist on her making a fresh roti in that sweaty hot kitchen, where the temperature of the body was nearly the same as the temperature of the hot pan on the stove. Now, I feel inspired and touched by her willingness to sacrifice her own comfort.
I also remember those cold wintry nights when our entire family would watch the popular TV serial “Hum Log” inside a warm room sitting under comforters. In peak winter, my mother would step out alone into the street, walking towards the far away bus stop. She would wait there for about half an hour for my sister to come back in a bus after attending her night classes at the university. Why did she do that for an adult child? She would say that though she missed the serial and the warmth of the room, “nothing felt enjoyable” when her heart was worrying about her daughter walking alone down those lonely, dark roads. My mother thought from, listened to, and followed her heart. At that time, I used to tease her for worrying too much. Now, I fully understand, appreciate, and respect her heartfelt thoughts and actions.
My mother would call me in my hostel at IIT regularly, especially when I needed it most. My mother was the only person who could make out over the phone from my silence, my unspoken words, and unshed tears that I was feeling insecure and sad. She gave me what I needed most in delicate moments: her words, comfort, touch, food, and sometimes simply her unspoken physical presence. She would ask me to come home at the earliest and put her “security blanket” around me. Now, I experience that security only while praying.
***
Love is giving. I could not understand the giving-for-the-sake-of-giving part of love for several decades. I have finally registered it now that I have turned from receiving-daughter into giving-mother myself.
Today, I dedicatedly salute my mother for what she “gave” me to “give” to my own children.
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