At Cross-Roads

As per the Hindu philosophy the greatest of all debts is the one which is owe to your father. You owe a debt to your father, for bringing you into this world, giving you his name and for providing you with all necessities. The rites of tarpana, pinda dana and shradha are devised to repay this debt which you owe to your father. I couldn’t perform any of these rites for reasons which I will describe latter.

My father was not a bad man. But he wasn’t like a father. He was like a visitor. My earliest memories of him are of Sundays. Though my mom says that it was not always like that, and he stayed with us throughout the week, I have not even faint memories of those days.  Sunday was the day when he would come to see me. He would bring me lot of toys and sweets, and I would look forward for his visit.

But then the frequency of his visits reduced. Whenever, he came, there would be an eerie silence. On one such visits he beaconed me. He held me tightly by his chest and said, ‘You are just eight. You are too small to understand what I am saying. But my child, I would be erring in my duty, if I don’t tell you this. There is nothing wrong or right. Still there is a pang of guilt rising in my chest. You are my favourite and will continue to be one. Merely, because I may not come here again, doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. As a father, I will see to it that you will are provided with all that you need. There are certain battles which are to be fought alone, and those are internal battles. I have had mine. May God grant you the courage to fight your own. Hope you forgive me. Someday you will understand me. That was the only day when I saw tears welled up in his eyes, and that was the time when I last saw him.

Exactly, twenty-two years after that incident, today when I am standing in his shoes, I know how difficult it must have been for him. I want to hug him and say, ‘Papa I understand you. Now that life has brought me at the same cross-roads, please guide me.’

His words ring in my ears. There are certain battles which are to be fought alone, and those are internal battles. I have had mine. May God grant you the courage to fight your own.

‘It is not about giving a morsel of rice to your ancestors. It is about the bhava dasha, the kind of feelings you ascribe for them. The purpose of all these rituals was to express gratitude towards your ancestors. Otherwise, money and food are not required in the ether world.’ Guruji had told me when I had confessed my problem to him. Guruji never gave straight forward solutions. He just kindled a thought. It was you who had to decide the path.

I devised my own way on repaying the debt of my father. It would give me a closure as well. I opened my wardrobe and packed my clothes. I wrote a leave application and emailed it.

***
‘Delhi again?’ Somi my wife asked me. She cut the corner of the milk sachet and poured its contents in the vessel.
‘Office work.’ I replied cryptically.
She kept the milk to boil on the stove, stood akimbo and checked her mobile.
‘Listen, even I may have to go to Pune for three days. My office has arranged a three days seminar. I really hate them. But now that even you are not there for an entire week, I feel that this seminar is a blessing in disguise.’

The milk spilled out of the vessels. I lunged and turned the gas off.
‘Oh! I am really sorry for that.’ Somi said.

I watched her intently as she cleaned the kitchen top with a mop. This was the woman I had fallen for – peach complexioned, almond eyed intelligent beauty. She was looking enchanting even in the floral velvet nightie that she was wearing.
‘What?’ She shrugged her shoulders and blushed. Suppressing her smile she said, ‘Why are you staring like that at me?’

I folded my hands across my chest and continued watching her.
‘You know, I am not used to so much admiration. So, before all negative thoughts crop in my mind, you better get busy with other things.’

Her words fell into my ears like molten lava. Was she a mind reader or what? My face turned white. I returned to my room and picked my bag. I checked the wrist watch. There were still three hours for the flight. But now I was suffocating in this house again. I opened the door and stomped out.

***
The plane had elevated and kissed the bellowing clouds. The miniature houses were now screened by the white clouds. I wish I could similarly create a screen between the two lives that I was living. Theoretically everything is feasible.  But the mind, that is all the time in conflict with the head, creates all the confusion. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I woke up with the announcement that the plane was soon going to land in Delhi. I had been to Delhi a few times. Most of those visits were official and many times I had a meeting with the clients in the hotels and took the late-night return flight. Delhi for me was just another city. Having seen all the places of interest in my school excursion, I didn’t find them interesting any longer. Indore was home and Delhi a distant land. But today things were different and a bit difficult too.

‘I know the place Tarun. It is in the outskirts of Delhi. But why do you want to go there?’ Krishna my friend from Delhi asked.
‘Someone enquired with me. I don’t know much about Delhi, so thought would ask you. Krishna, don’t mind, I am in middle of something. Can I call you after some time, maybe this weekend?’ I said and hung up the phone.

I took the taxi.
‘1…..’ I told the address to the driver. Fortunately, the sardar taxi driver was not judgmental like Krishna.

Read the next part here

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अतरंगी रे! 365 Days of Self Love Hindi

क्या हाल है? नया साल है| वैसे कहने वाले कहेंगे, नया साल अब सात दिन पुराना हो गया है| पर हर दिन तो नया ही होता है| साल तो बस कालमापन के लिये बनी एक व्यवस्था है| हर दिन तो नया सुरज ही लेके आता है|

दिन नया है, साल नया है| पर सवाल तो यह है कि, क्या हम नये है? सोच कर बताये, बिते साल हमने क्या नया किया? क्या नया सिखा? और सबसे बडा सवाल क्या हमने खुद को जानने कि कोई कोशिश भी कि?

आम तौर पर लोग अगर उस साल मे बहुत रुपया मिले, नया घर खरीदे तो कहते है बिता साल बढीया रहा| अगर धंदे मे घाटा, परिवार मे मृत्यू, कोई accident हो, तो साल बुरा|

मेरा बिलकुल यह केह्ना नही कि, उपर दियी गयी घटनाये जीवन मे ख़ुशी या गम नही लाती|

मुझे आपको यह बताना है कि, खुशिया तो हमारी चारो और बिखरी पडी है| जरुरत है, तो उन्हे देखने के लिये सही नजरिया बनाने कि|

जीवन मे किसी का सपना होता है क्रिकेटर बनने का और किसी को सिंगर बनना होता है| पर उम्र बढती है, तब यह सपने आंखो से ओझल हो के मन मे मलाल बन के रह जाते है|

क्यो न उन सपनो को फिर से जिंदा किया जाये? उनपे जमी धूल को पोचकर उन्हे आंखो मे बसाया जाये| शायद हम विराट कोहली और लता मंगेशकर ना भी बन सके, पर कोशिश करने मे क्या जाता है? और क्या पता हमे उतनी सफलता मिल भी जाये| सफलता का मतलब ढेर सारा रुपया, बडा मकान, मेहेंगी गाडी थोडे ही होता है? सफलता का मतलब होता है हमे जो पसंद है वह काम करना| फिर अगर उससे आमदनी और नाम हो जाये, तो सोने पे सुहागा|

सपने पुरे करने के लिये पैसे कि नही, हिम्मत कि जरुरत होती है| हमारे आस पास ही देख लो कितने अतरंगी लोग भरे पडे है| कोई अपने बडी तनखाह कि नौकरी छोड कर restaurant खोल रहा है| कोई साठ कि उम्र मे शादी रचा रहा है| कोई औरत उसको सूट न होने वाला ढेर सारा make up पेहेंती है| कोई बच्चे बडे होने के बाद बिवी को divorce दे कर, childhood sweetheart से घर बसाना चाहता है| ऐसे अनगिनत किस्से है| दुनिया ऐसे अतरंगीयो से भरी पडी है|

समाज ऐसे अतरंगीयो को चैन से जिने नही देता| पर उन्हे कहा उनके approval कि पडी है| वह तो खुश है, अपनी ही दुनिया मे| अपने सपने जिने का साहस उन्होने जूटा लिया है|

काफी लोग कहेंगे हमसे नही बंध पायेगा इतना साहस| ठीक है, इतना नही तो थोडा तो अतरंगी बनो! अगर पानी से डर लगता है, तो पानी मे पैर डूबो के देखो| गाडी चलाने से डर लगता है, तो कभी driving seat पे बैठ कर तो देखो| अकेलेपन का डर है, तो कभी किसी सोलो trip पे जाके अपनी कंपनी enjoy करने मे कितना मजा आता है देखो|

अगर इतना भी न कर सके तो हम सब जिंदा लाश है| फिर तो साल आयेंगे और जायेंगे, जिंदगी के भी और कॅलेंडर के भी| आखिरकार new year को happy new year बनाना तो अपने ही हात मे है|

#365DaysofSelfLove #Hindi

 

The Champa Tree 365 Days of Self Love English

 

           The Champa tree,  in front of my house, stood all decked up like a newly wed bride. It wasn’t much tall, almost of my height. It had branched out in all directions. There were the green leaves and fragrant white flowers with a tinge of yellow between them. I would pluck those flowers in the morning.

           No one knew who had planted this Champa tree. When I had moved into this house it had already grown up. I was always grateful to the unknown person who had planted this tree. He had left behind a fragrant gift for me. Indeed, planting trees is an unselfish act. You never know whether you will be there when the tree will flower or bear fruits. But still you plant them.

           It was rainy season.  My sisters had come down for the Ganpati festival. The Champa tree was in full bloom. It gave hundreds of flowers. We plucked the flowers, made beautiful garlands for the elephant God. My elder sister made beautiful rangoli of flowers at the door.

           Like every siblings, we too have had our differences when we grew up. But the Champa tree helped us  bond together. In the mornings, we would pluck the flowers, make the garlands and rangolis. While doing so we would relive the memories of our childhood. We would remember those days when we were kids. We regaled in songs from our childhood and we remembered our fights. Once this morning routine was done, I would go to my work and return home late in the night tired. So I must give all the credit to the Champa tree and its flowers for the bonding, rather rebonding.

           Soon the sisters went to their homes and in another few months rains left too. The land was all parched up. The dancing green grass dried up. Only I and the Champa tree stayed back. I was feeling lonely. I longed for that laughter, that mirth which was present only when my sisters were around, only when there was someone you could call family. I was lonely and unhappy.

           I guess Champa tree felt lonely too. Its leaves began to whither and turn yellow. It had begun to shed its leaves. I thought it was because of lack of water. I began to water the plant twice in a day. Yet it was shedding its leaves.

           One day not a single leaf was left on the tree. I felt so bad for it. My gardener told me that someone had poisoned it. I felt as if I too was poisoned, and  was going to die soon. I couldn’t see the tree dying with every passing day. But what could I do? There are no doctors for trees. I prayed fervently that the tree may survive. But it remained there barren with just the branches and no leaves or flowers.

           It was a December morning. The air was cold. I got out of my house for a morning walk. I saw the barren tree. There were tears in my eyes. Then I spotted something white at the end of the branch. I ran and had a closer look at it. My joy knew no bounds. There was a tiny bud, a sign of life, a ray of hope. Soon the tree flowered again. I too got married and started a family.

 

About my writing

           It is not that I dislike people. I like to be surrounded by people. I love to hear their stories and share mine. I like to have a roaring laughter which has earned me the sobriquet of Ravan. But still the fact remains, I like to stay quiet, all by myself. Sometimes with a book in hands or my fingers typing out a story, and at times even all by myself with closed eyes. I feel strong connections with trees, flowers and nature in general. I can't be with people all the time.  I require time for reflection, and spending an entire day with someone can be really suffocating for a person like me. Having said that, there are a few people with whom I can chat for days and maybe months together. I have been lucky to have been surrounded by such people in my life. Sounds a bit contradictory, doesn't it? But such is life!

#365DaysofSelfLove #English