Cute little Angels :)

Yesterday I watched "Paa", a beautiful movie indeed. There was a scene when Auro (the protagonist, a little boy of 13) is in the hospital and is alone in his room, he is shown playing with the plugs on his fingers, that are there to monitor his health. It made me realise how old people too become kids and behave like them, afterall they are the angels who guided us throughout our lives.
I remember when nana was admitted, it was the first time he had to stay in a hospital, he had been a perfectly healthy man all his life, but may be it was time. Anyways so I would describe the way my little grandpa behaved. For a few days he dealt with things in the best way possible, but with time, I guess things became a bit difficult for him, he had to go through a lot of pain, I could hear the pain in his voice, I still remember the last time when I was leaving he asked me as to when I'd be back, I said I'd be back soon, but then his state deteriorated and I guess he became unaware of my presence, though I doubt.
But nana taught me to live life, in the last few days, though he couldn't talk much, he used to sing songs, dance (moved his hands) sitting on his bed and was enjoying himself in his own world(the nurses around him, enjoyed aswell), he had been into theatre afterall :) sometimes I could understand what he said, but most of the time it was a treat to see him happy by himself.
Yes, old people do become kids and need the kind of love and care that little kids need. If you guys have old people around, shower loads of love on them and keep them with care and respect, they are indeed the epitome of love, love that never fades away and grows with time...We got to learn the true meaning of selfless love from them, it's time to keep them cosy in the soft blanket of their teachings.

Keep that smile within your reach!

"Kaga sab tan khaiyo chun chun khaiyo maas,
Do naina mat khaiyo mohe piya milan ki aas..."

A smile stretches out on my face, when I recall how tastefully nana used to say the aforementioned lines. I used to tease him whenever he got into his poetic trance, but his love for poetry was something that he cherished. It was as if he could feel the words sinking in and giving out a positive vibe that got him an ear to ear smile:)
Life becomes beautiful when we cherish things that we like, we should never forget the things that make us happy and should keep them close to us, so that whenever a tear rolls down our eyes it spreads into a smile.
Hope, contentment and peace linger on when they find a place to balance themselves, and what better place can they find than a heart that knows how to smile:)

The Sacred Abode

Though I don't know what it was when partition happened or what the people felt at that point of time, but I am sure it would have been a painful struggle for them.Our home is not only a place where we reside, its a place where we are rooted, right up to our core. It forms an essential part of our identity, our memories, our existence. When a bride leaves her home in order to blossom in a new abode, its a painful decision for her, since she is taken away like a baby plant is taken out from its roots to be replanted in someones elses garden. It has to leave the mother plant, leaving behind the fragrance of its memories, just like a girl does. But there is always a possibility of a visit, of coming back and meeting the people with whom you've spent the initial leg of your life. But What would happen if you are dislocated and planted in an alien land, bounded by a border made of blood and gore, unable to reach out to the land to which you belong? Thats what partition was all about, a permanent journey towards an alien land, with nothing to look back for.
During partition many homes were left empty, which were then reinhabited by people. I have friends whose grandparents still talk about Lahore in Pakistan, and the home that they had left, their language, way of living everything has a fragrance of the long lost past. I still remember what nana had told me once. Okhla which is located in south Delhi and is called Okhla village, though its not a village, it used to have beautiful green fields all around, but now is quite a modernised part of south Delhi, with Jamia University, to enhace its beauty. So the incident goes like this, once okhla was being attacked by some people. Pandit Nehru, President Zakir Hussain and many others including nana,were there to take care of the area. Women and children were asked to gather in a big house so that they are safe there. Something happened that made a prominent personality laugh, on which Dr. Zakir Hussain responded with the following words,"its not a matter of laughter, its a matter of tears". Such was the love and respect for ones land, such was the dedication of the great leaders like Pandit Nehru and Dr. Zakir Hussain, who stood there to take the bullets on themselves, in order to save the people of their nation, such was the love for their country, their homeland. Nana never allowed his children or his grandchildren to settle in distint lands,"live in your country and let your progress be the progress of your land",These were the dutiful words of my beloved nana, full of love and respect for his motherland. Till date I remember what he said and wonder how love travels through generations.


I wandered in distant lands,
right from shore to shore.
Nothing gave me such immense peace,
as my beloved sacred abode.
And now as I lie in its arms today,
smeared with its love and care,
It makes me happy to realise,
that for my country , I was always there.


This post is with due respect to the people living in distant lands, its just what my grandfather felt and strongly believed in that I have narrated in my post. I do not intend to hurt anyones feelings.

Why??

Why is it that we get so fond of our roots, that it becomes impossible for us to leave our land?
Why is it that our neighbourhood, the familiar roads, the houses, the shops, the people, every thing is so precious to us that we never learn to live without them.. Why is it that a foriegn land, is always a foriegn land, however much we might try to make a home out of it? Why is it that even the familiar smell of plain food, makes us nostalgic? Why is it, that we feel so good when we meet a person from our land? Why is it that even a friend, seems as if he shares the same blood?
Why is it then that we fight with each other for reasons trivial? Why is that a single house is divided on disputes and quarrels? Why is it that age old relationships break apart, why is love suffocated in a corner of there heart? Why is it that the third takes advantage and wins?
Why can't we oppose such social evil?

Though we love our land, care for it and can't stay apart.
Though distances matter, tears flow out and friends are an important part.
Though seeds are sown for everyone irrespective of who they are.
Though each festival is a joyous one and plays an important part.
On such a land, with such feelings and such warm hearts, why is it that we stop thinking when evil drives us apart?
Oh! My Country, My land, My home just think for once atleast, what went wrong when such strong chords failed to cross boundaries.

Wish

Do we always get what we wish for , or is it better that God gives us what he thinks is the best for us? When we wish for something, at that very point of time, it becomes the most important thing for us, we do everything to achieve it, but what happens by the end of the day is beyond our thoughts and dreams.

A wish settled on my eyelash,
and forced it to shut down for a long blissful sleep,
a gush of wind took my wish away,
and I, now with my eyes wide open, saw the storm coming my way.
Oh what would have happened if my wish was to be fulfilled,
my dreams would have been washed away with the storm unpredictable.
Life has a wish concealed in every beat,
The ones that are fulfilled,
are the ones that were meant to be.

The lessons of life

When we toddle our way to maturity, its not just a period we cover, its a big chunk turned in the book of life..and when we flip the pages back for old times sake, we find numerous blots, scribbles, fine lines and things in bold..these are the moments that either went wrong or just went the way we wanted them too..these are the pages of our life that are stored in our mind and can be flipped through, whenever we lie back, a little away from the hum drum of the present.
Sometimes these pages seem like an old reel of the times that have passed and sometimes like a reflection of the life that waits ahead, how we grew up and the upcoming generations might grow up, or just as a teacher, yes, the times that have passed can serve as a teacher, someone who teaches us to learn from our mistakes and edit all the blots so that we can have a neat beginning, a clear path that waits ahead, and we do not repeat certain things that did not help us at all but pushed us away from our path.
Grandpa was correct when he said..life is a school, where we learn a new lesson everyday...its a learning process..we should learn from our mistakes and should keep mopping the path ahead, every new mistake would be a lesson to be learnt and every success would be a feather in our cap.....an indicator of how well we have learnt the varied lessons taught by life.

The virtual and the real

Its true that certain things cannot be described in words, its like a beautiful scenery, when we are there, what our eyes are treated to cannot be captured by the camera, all it can do is just catch hold of the replica that can be kept to remind us of all the lovely days that colour our lives, but the ultimate feeling just lingers on in our nerves and settles down deep in our heart. Its true that certain things may be preserved at face value, but the focus of a camera or the ink that flows from the pen, just find it too hard to accomodate the real feel...though both win to some extend but the real moment just stays smeared in the mysterious lanes of our mind.
I have been asked to write about my grandfather so that it can come in print....though words come out as my feeling push them to spill on paper, but the moments capture my mind in such a way that I find myself lost in the bylanes cherishing each moment with renewed enthusiasm, when the present taps at my door I find myself at a loss of words.
Yes, feelings can be poured down on paper, but what is it that stays behind?
Maybe its the touch of the real or a sense of belonging to the moments that refuse to be passed on.
Life is a yearning...a yearning for the varied hues....if the yearning would collapse..we would find ourselves without a clue...... be it a yearning of a lost past...or that of the mysteries that wait ahead.....its life and its numerous experiences that are unique to each one out there...each one of us yearn for the best that could be ... its our precious moments that make our lives....truely unique.