I, me, myself
Year ends always make me nostalgic. Well, one could argue it isn't technically the end of the year yet, but come Q4 and it might as well be the end of the year for me. As if there aren't enough complications in my life, my mind has decided to reminisce on two levels as well. There's a part of it that is more rooted in the present (meaning the weekend that just passed); the other has decided this is the right time for a walk down memory lane, pulling out random images from the journey that has been my life. Like I have said before, I don't profess to have much to do with my mind and its whims. It has a will of its own..and I more often than not indulge it.
The weekend brought a close close friend to the city. Someone I have a lot to be thankful to. It wouldn't be stretching it too far if I said the life, the people I have in my life, the person I am today, post V is in a large part thanks to him. And it was fun. More fun than I have had in a long time. Juvenile jokes, stupid pranks, chirpy chatter, all of that coupled with a contentment..and silent prayer of gratitutde that I have all this ..these people as part of my life. People who would be having their own conversations that are but natural in large gatherings, but still have the time for that quick glance, the smile across the room, the invisible touch to make sure that you're there and you're alright. These are what I carry home with me. But now to the more urgent images...
They come at me, faster than I can grasp..and leave me with a sense of how much I have to be happy about. How much I waste my time brooding about non-issues.
The time we as a family..a family of just three then, went buying books. Comin back on the Kinetic that was to be my "weapon" of choice years later, reading the book by the headlight. Finishing it and then heading out so the daughter of the house could get one more book...one more world to be lost in.
The time I was told about how we were then to become four. The look of astonishment on my face, how smooth, how impossibly flat my mother's stomach looked then. How wondrous it was to imagine another life growing there, in my mother, a life that I had decided even then would be the most precious, most cherished part of my life.
Heading home on a rickshaw with my siter after buying vegetables. Having my first talk, woman to woman with her. Trying my best to let her know that the burdens I carried didn't have to be hers as well. That I would be there for her, if she needed more than a friend's perspective, but less than a parent's advice. If she needed a sounding board that could provide a slightly broader view, but not as broad as my parents'. Wondering if she realised how much more than that I needed to convey with those words. Wondering if she would ever realise just how much thought went into putting just those few sentences together.
Receiving my birthday gift from the same sister...the sister diary..with the first entry by her...her distinct memory of that same talk. The realisation that my fumbling efforts did in fact make a difference..and they were appreciated..far more than I had hoped. The realisation that my sister could actually teach me far far more than I could ever hope to pass on to her.
The drive with my father, a day before leaving for Delhi. The most memorable chat I have ever had with him. Just father and daughter. How much perspective that gave me.
The huge fight I had with my mother when she was here last year. She walking off in a huff, and me hopping on one foot to the balcony, closing the door, smoking a cigarette. Not caring in my anger, that this was the first time I was smoking in the house when my parents were over. Ma coming out to sit with me, me chucking the ciggie. Walking back inside, hugging each other, glad to have let it all out. Mom joking about the smell of smoke on my breath, me brushing and coming back. Sitting and talking to her then, really talking to her, not at her. The realisation that probably noone has nor will ever love me as much, as beautifully and as completely as my mother does.
My friends going out of their way to make me smile, make me laugh. Forcing me to head to Mysore at a time I was more than ready to curl into a corner and feel sorry for myself. Making me wonder what on earth was i thinking by even considering not going by the time I got back.
There's so much more that wells up from the recesses now..its like watching a movie..a too long movie, all of it made of feel good clips. They might seem random, but the end..which will always be today manges to put the pieces together just right.
Every single frame in that movie, all of them are part of who I am. To look back at all of that is to get in touch with myself..and having a one-on-one is always refreshing, even if the ride isn't always pleasant :)
The weekend brought a close close friend to the city. Someone I have a lot to be thankful to. It wouldn't be stretching it too far if I said the life, the people I have in my life, the person I am today, post V is in a large part thanks to him. And it was fun. More fun than I have had in a long time. Juvenile jokes, stupid pranks, chirpy chatter, all of that coupled with a contentment..and silent prayer of gratitutde that I have all this ..these people as part of my life. People who would be having their own conversations that are but natural in large gatherings, but still have the time for that quick glance, the smile across the room, the invisible touch to make sure that you're there and you're alright. These are what I carry home with me. But now to the more urgent images...
They come at me, faster than I can grasp..and leave me with a sense of how much I have to be happy about. How much I waste my time brooding about non-issues.
The time we as a family..a family of just three then, went buying books. Comin back on the Kinetic that was to be my "weapon" of choice years later, reading the book by the headlight. Finishing it and then heading out so the daughter of the house could get one more book...one more world to be lost in.
The time I was told about how we were then to become four. The look of astonishment on my face, how smooth, how impossibly flat my mother's stomach looked then. How wondrous it was to imagine another life growing there, in my mother, a life that I had decided even then would be the most precious, most cherished part of my life.
Heading home on a rickshaw with my siter after buying vegetables. Having my first talk, woman to woman with her. Trying my best to let her know that the burdens I carried didn't have to be hers as well. That I would be there for her, if she needed more than a friend's perspective, but less than a parent's advice. If she needed a sounding board that could provide a slightly broader view, but not as broad as my parents'. Wondering if she realised how much more than that I needed to convey with those words. Wondering if she would ever realise just how much thought went into putting just those few sentences together.
Receiving my birthday gift from the same sister...the sister diary..with the first entry by her...her distinct memory of that same talk. The realisation that my fumbling efforts did in fact make a difference..and they were appreciated..far more than I had hoped. The realisation that my sister could actually teach me far far more than I could ever hope to pass on to her.
The drive with my father, a day before leaving for Delhi. The most memorable chat I have ever had with him. Just father and daughter. How much perspective that gave me.
The huge fight I had with my mother when she was here last year. She walking off in a huff, and me hopping on one foot to the balcony, closing the door, smoking a cigarette. Not caring in my anger, that this was the first time I was smoking in the house when my parents were over. Ma coming out to sit with me, me chucking the ciggie. Walking back inside, hugging each other, glad to have let it all out. Mom joking about the smell of smoke on my breath, me brushing and coming back. Sitting and talking to her then, really talking to her, not at her. The realisation that probably noone has nor will ever love me as much, as beautifully and as completely as my mother does.
My friends going out of their way to make me smile, make me laugh. Forcing me to head to Mysore at a time I was more than ready to curl into a corner and feel sorry for myself. Making me wonder what on earth was i thinking by even considering not going by the time I got back.
There's so much more that wells up from the recesses now..its like watching a movie..a too long movie, all of it made of feel good clips. They might seem random, but the end..which will always be today manges to put the pieces together just right.
Every single frame in that movie, all of them are part of who I am. To look back at all of that is to get in touch with myself..and having a one-on-one is always refreshing, even if the ride isn't always pleasant :)
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