Tuesday, 31 January 2012

On Turning Twenty

So I turn twenty. Is it a big deal? Is it not? I don’t know. I don’t feel twenty. But then, I probably have no clue how twenty feels, so maybe that statement is redundant.There are times I feel ten (already been there, so this I know). And there are days I feel forty (this is a guess; I hope the real one is less scary than I think it to be).

I talk to kids and find out I have no clue about the cartoons they watch on TV, and feel old. Then I listen to people and wish I could go back to being four so that I could give them a hug and say everything will be fine.

Memories are funny things. One huge, shimmering pot of good and bad, bitter and sweet. Black and white and every shade in between.

I have learnt to keep my plans open-ended.  And accepted that a lot of them aren’t gonna work out, many times just for the heck of it. And it will still be fine. More importantly, I will still be fine. I’ll plan again.

I have seen how quickly masks fall from faces. And found out how badly it hurts to be betrayed (that’s less than when you end up betraying, whether intentionally or otherwise. we’ve all been there). But also that a lot of things heal with time. Whether they do or do not often depend on us, too. There is always a choice. Always.

I have had fun when it was least expected. And realised true friends are not just people who stick together, but who dream together, and snigger together, and sing together, and have tiffs and make up, thousand times over, thousand miles apart. People who are there to welcome you back, no matter how far you go.

I have heard stories that defy logic. And believed them all. Everyone has a story. Many get lost in the cacophony of the world, because they do not know this. But there are some who do know, and treasure the knowledge, even if they don’t show it. If you sit down and let them talk, they might just surprise you, for a few among them don’t just come with stories, they are whole novels (and I personally know two who are regular epics, God bless them).

I have laughed over silly things. And cried over sillier ones. But both felt better when shared. Like the old time school tiffin. Emotions are way more shared among people than the barriers of age, race, gender or location will let us believe. Crossing those barriers can be scary, yet liberating (like going down a highway on a bike. or being in love. take your pick).

I have had my faith tested. And lost some, and gained some. The best way to regain it is to talk to someone who lost more than you (there is invariable someone around who fits the bill). Rarely, if ever, is it true that faith moves mountains. But it probably does save more souls than all the confession boxes in the world.

I have learnt how tough it is to grow up. Growing old will be tougher. I’ll go into the new year (and decade, sigh) a bit sadder, a bit wiser, still reluctantly optimistic, still incorrigibly romantic and still unfailingly inquisitive.

But these I have been since as far back I can remember.
Looks like growing up will have to wait another year.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Kerala Snaps-II

A few more photos from my trip to Kerala. Stay safe and enjoy, folks.

Mirror Image

Santa Cruz Basilica

House of God ( Inside the Santa Cruz Basilica)

River Cruise

A Badling. Seriously, that's what you call a Group of Ducks

Bee Colony

Saturday, 14 January 2012

Kerala Snaps-I

I went on a trip to Kerala a few days back. A few snaps to share with you all. :-) Enjoy. More later.

He Sure Knows he is Regal

Vivekanda Rock Memorial (i loved the way the sunbeam came in this)


Where Will you Take Me, Captain?

Feline. Enough said.

Monday, 9 January 2012

Will you Tell me Your Story?

Stories have always been important to me. My brain recognizes people by the stories that I know of them.Some call it a typical Aquarian trait, some call it childish. Whatever it may be, I have been blessed to have been told of their stories by many folks. Lives, successes, failures, loves, encounters, fights, glories. And every time I meet someone new, and hear theirs, it only gets reconfirmed,that every person has a story, if we only care to listen. 
I came across the following poem, and it seemed perfect to express in a way how The Story People came into being. It says exactly what I say silently, every time I talk to a person, every time I talk to YOU.

The Invitation
                                                   -Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
And if you dare to dream of meeting
Your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
For love, for your dream,
For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
If you have been opened by life's betrayals,
Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,
Mine or your own,
Without moving
To hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,
Mine or your own,
If you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty
Even when it is not pretty every day,
And if you can source your life
From its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,
Yours and mine,
And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
In the center of the fire with me
And not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
From the inside
When all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
With yourself,
And if you truly like the company you keep
In the empty moments.

poem cortesy:Oriah Mountain Dreamer:http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/.By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation published by HarperONE, San Francisco,1999 All rights reserved. I do not own this poem or any parts of it.This is posted only with the purpose of sharing.]

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