The Heart just knows You

The heart just knows you

It recognized you

From the moment we saw each other

From then on , love was due

For you existed

As long as I have

As love always has

No start , no end

You grew in my heart

You grew for me

I knew your name

Before I learnt mine

I saw us together

In time. Our destiny

To unfold and unfurl

Into infinity

The heart just knows

And if you look close enough

You'll know it too

Dilemmas and Deliberations

Do I marry who I love 
or love who I marry?

Do I save up for the rainiest of days 
or do I spend on my hearts desire?

Do I use my education to earn , acquire and accumulate
or do I travel the world and gain what is not to be found in books?

Do I  work till I can finally rest
or keep looking for what may never arrive?

Do I speak out in love
or keep my voice hushed in my heart?

Do I stay here in the land that gave me roots
or Do I choose the one that beckons with a glittering finger?

Do I reach out and aloud
or do I keep my hand and heart tame?

The above few lines are my attempts to condense the various experiences of one of the most confusing phenomena that our Holy Scriptures haven't prepared us for....the QUARTER LIFE CRISIS. So when I innocently sought some guidance from the masses of well meaning elders , internet support groups , equally misguided friends and long forgotten developmental psych textbooks...this is what i learnt. And as misery loves company , permit me to share this with you.

 Now the big QLC is not scientific . It is not recorded anywhere scientifically. You cannot complain. You are young , healthy and are cognitively oscillating between your parents whims , your bosses expectations and your own id induced wants. You are a product of technology , religion , education , history , societal expectations and your own hormones.No you cannot complain. Stick with it and then bow down to the mighty mid life crisis. That's apparently real.

Now most of my loved ones cannot get my sarcasm. Hence the need to explain. Which I do in my next few posts. 

 



 

The Last Green Leaf

The Last Green Leaf

I look outside my window , at the old apple tree

It's leaves long gone , except for one hanging free

I turn over and silently sigh

Soon , I'll have to say goodbye

They say I won't last long

And I know they're not wrong

I'm not sad , I have no sorrow

When they say I won't be here tomorrow

After all , it's God who makes the calls

I'll go when the last leaf falls

There's a strong wind blowing from the river

The leaf shakes , I shiver

Everything's cold , I need a nap

From which I may never rise , I hear a twig snap

Before I go to my grave , the flowers and the wreath

I say this prayer with my last breath

I shut my eyes , I'll never wake

I pray to God my soul to take

Poem written at age 15 . No judging allowed. Was greatly tempted to change words and lines but I've retained the original. And no , I'm not a morbid person.

Rhyme Obsessed

Poetry was one of the constants in my childhood days. My favorite subject at the time in school was English because it was the first subject where my teacher encouraged us to think independently. And believe me having a mind of my own was something I didn't even think of till then. The idea of having your own interpretations of the written or spoken word was absolutely fresh and appealing to me. The thought of voicing my opinion out loud ( and as an 8 year old back then , I was the definition of spineless) scared me. I was a huge fan of Blyton back then and spineless me felt that penning my thoughts was brilliant and totally safe. I had practically nothing much to do when I came back from school . I'd lug around a yellow notebook back at the time and write a few lines about anything that caught my fancy from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to whether I really needed a brother. I wrote about snow , seasons , change , classmates I liked , classmates I hated and the future just around the corner. My rhyming was on a roll and so was I.

Were my poems any good? I had absolutely no clue. But I continued writing. My last poem was written when I was approaching 15 . I had a year of visiting family and friends in hospitals and chose to write about how people felt when they knew they were dying ( morbid I know , no one will be proud of me , unless they're Kubler-Ross). The effect of reading this poem was alienation and some not so approving looks aimed my way. Don't even ask me how my mom reacted but I did find my yellow pages turned to C for Child psychologist).

Writing about anticipating death was my last theme till now. I haven't been able to write any more poems because I grew out of that phase. But as they say , most things of our childhood have this tendency to pop up in our lives again  and almost 12 years later , I'm back to writing poetry. I don't know where that old yellow notebook is , probably giving someone a few laughs somewhere back home. But I did come across my last poem and I'm putting it up. read it but remember I was a rhyme obsessed 15 year old , so no judging. It's there on my next post and its titled The Last Green Leaf.

Hopefully , I'll be able to write some more. And though its been 12 years , I'm still obsessed with rhyme.

To do or not to do

“It is our choices ,Harry ,that show us what we truly are , far more than our abilities.”

J.K. Rowling , Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Life is all about the choices we make. We are what we are today because of the choices we made yesterday.

I’ve made some excellent , healthy choices. I’ve chosen to stick up for some people , chosen to support certain ethics in life and also chosen to wear sunscreen everyday.

On the not so admirable side , I’ve made bad choices as well – obsessing people who were not worth my time , missing rehearsals and dance classes for things I did not really want to do but felt obliged to , eating all those extra diwali sweets…

We don’t realize that the effects of our choices are not seen immediately. They sort of pile up invisibly and choose some clandestine moment to manifest in life and BAM…it hits us right in our face.

The more toned figure I sport now is the result of my choice to wake up early at 5:15 a.m. when the rest of the world is sleeping and go for yoga.

The fact that I stumble during my kathak classes is definitely the showcase of my choice to perform other activities that futilely ate up my time leaving me with no strength to spin in class.

World War was a result of choices. King Gautama becoming the Buddha was after his choice to leave his kingdom. Judas chose to betray Jesus. Magneto chose to leave the X-Men. I decided to study psychology instead of medicine. …Our choices have power , even and especially if it changes things for us.

I’m doing my pre-doctoral research in positive psychology now and we’re constantly looking for ways to increase fulfillment in life. A simple way would be to realize the magnitude of our main choices .

And just like the consumer market which offers us an umpteen number of choices , most of us will face either an approach-approach , avoid-avoid or approach-avoid path. In the first , we are forced to choose between two equally desirable options or goals. For eg – deciding who to date- Someone awesomely smart or someone who makes us laugh? The second , we reluctantly choose between two equally unappealing choices. The awful , bone-crunching gym session or the health ailments later? And the third is the most confusing – to do or not to do. Do I quit my job? I’m going to get the free time I’ve always wanted to learn to swim but then who’s gonna pay me the dough that I need to whip up for my expensive swimming class?

Maybe we should start with the question about what’s more important for us. And act accordingly. And realize that while you’re prioritizing one thing over the other , we can always do the other later on. Realize that every single domain in our life need not be perfect all the time.

Why did I choose to write this while everything else in my blog is candyfloss?

Because I suddenly realized that I had the power to choose…

And so do you.

Does Dance bring us closer to God?

Man has always reached out to a higher power through prayer. And what is dance , but prayer in motion?

Everything in the cosmos dances. Nature is constantly dancing as the birds move around , animals play gaily and flowers reach out to the skies . Man is in a constant state of motion , always staging their entrances and exits in life. Dance is a way to exhalt and communicate with God by using the movements of our body as a temple. 

The Natya Shastra , which is believed to be the fifth Veda of the Hindu Scriptures , states that every stage that the dancer chooses to dance , is a temple of God. Dance has always been a way for Man to connect with the Universe or with that special element within themselves that links their soul to God. Ask any dancer and they will tell you that the essence of their work is spiritual unity. In our daily lives , the body and brain usually work together but when one dances , the soul and spirit of man is also brought forth. Whether it is the swirls of the Sufi dances or the devotion of our Indian classical forms , dance brings us closer to our spiritual union with God.

Modern day philosophers and spirituality experts are now including elements in dance in their practices. The vigourous training that involves all parts of the body is akin to meditation . Music and meditation are also integrated and the goals are to attain greater peace and harmony within oneself. Balance is a crucial aspect which is needed in one’s life and dance teaches us the importance of centering and anchoring ourselves. The roots of all dance forms whether they are classical , contemporary or folk in nature , have always been steeped in this spiritual union. When any one approaches dance as an art form or as an interest to be pursued , they are receiving spiritual direction. 

I remember attending a lecture given by Pandit Birju Maharaj , one of India’s most revered dancers . He spoke about how humanity is caught up in a complete frenzy of erratic motion in their daily affairs. But peace and harmony can be attained if they remember that the dance they are currenty dancing is always for and with the Higher Power. I conclude by asking the reader to reflect on a powerful saying by the saint Rumi – “Whosoever knows the power of the dance , dwelleth in God”.

My Goodbye to The greatest Bollywood Legend of all Time

Goodbye King of Romance

I was a bright eyed , sharp tongued , quick footed kid. I had short , black hair , stubby little hands and was dressed in dungarees and shorts all the time. No frills or frocks for me , no roses and satin sashes , no dolls and flower baskets. I was far removed from the pretty little girls you would probably see on the cover of some pre pubescent adventure series. I wasn’t full of sugar and spice , though there were a lot of things nice about me . My mother fretted over her failed attempts to turn me into a little lady. My father cheerfully accepted me as his second son. Infact , many of the shopkeepers around called me “ lil boy “ frequently. I did’nt bother correcting them.

Then somebody called Chandni exploded on screen.

Sridevi , a famous actress of the 90’s ( I loved her fab comic timing and her ability to beat up the boys) , suddenly donned salwars of some flowing material ( the opulence of chiffon was yet to tantalize me) , sang melodious songs and her eyes turned misty whenever she thought of the man in the movie. I was three when this movie released and all I remember is this dreamy eyed , raven haired damsel who stands on a hill , with a yellow dupatta flowing behind her. It was the beginning of many such lovely visions. It was also the beginning of the maiden in me.

 Pooja . Nisha. Anjali. Zaara. ….they opened up a whole new world for me.  They were Chopra’s depictions of the Indian Woman …one that appealed to millions of women the world over. They were strong ,elegant , colourful women…..someone we all wanted to be. They helped me embrace feminity – wearing jhumkas , flowing dupattas , twirling with ghungroos , learning Kathak…I have a lot to thank Yashji for. So whenever , Karishma smiled mischieviosuly , I did the same. When the characteristic yellow dupatta flowed on screen , I thought of my own yellow dupatta . I made sure that , even to this day , I have one in my wardrobe. Whenever Juhi  longingly looked for her love , Madhuri dropped her gaze when she was shy or Kajol danced in the rain…..i vicariously lived it all.

The yellow dupatta. They all wore it. The shade ranged from canary to buttercup yellow. Sometimes , it had lace or sequins , not unlike a lot of the embellishments Chopra ji made to his movies . I had a new one every two years or so  and whenever I proudly wore it , I was one of them.

Somewhere down the lane , I grew up. My bangles made way for a sensible watch. My dramatics became subdued and so did my colours.  Whether it’s enjoying a good movie , learning to dance wholeheartedly or simply waiting for another Shahrukh extravaganza , I still had a lot to thank Yashji for.

Yash Chopra was the king of romance. His movies were ethereal and magical. Yashji was a magician who’s enchantment in Bollywood can never be paralleled. His legacy will live on through his stories and the unforgettable characters he created.

Since Yashji was all about romance , I hope he puts in a good word for me in that department .

Meanwhile , I’ll still keep that yellow dupatta flying…..