The best lesson…

My mom has taught me a lot of things… like every other mother does. Some she was vocal about and some by example.

1. When her mother was not well, she was there to care for her no matter what. Her selfless love towards her mother was a perfect example of how children should care for their parents in their old age. In this she taught me to be there for your parents.

2. She fought with the institution to ensure my brother got admission to Bishop Cottons. She urged the principal to reduce the admission fee, borrowed money to pay it and ensured my brother was enrolled to the school. He was 6, I was 11. She vocally taught me that it was important to be fair to your children and give them equal opportunities. What they make of it is beyond her control but as a parent it was her responsibility to be fair.

3. Every night we ate together, my father, her, brother, uncle and I. At that time it was just the norm for me. She cooked, I helped, we sat down on the floor, spoke about school or current affairs or anything and ate the meal. Now when I have a family I realize the importance of that simple act. At the end of the day the family comes together and shares their day or thoughts or whatever, but essentially what builds there is a bridge of communication. Everyone talks to everyone in the family.

4. She taught me the value of money. She told me the income and expenses and how to make ends meet. I was 12. I saw her struggle quietly at various things we never had. Money is essential, but not everything. She always said, a path will carve itself out, some door will open and a door always opened.

5. The relationships you make whether blood or not are to be kept. Blood does not make anything thicker. Having people around, you can turn to was the important thing. She respected every person who she came across, whether young or old. It was of utmost importance to treat everyone with respect.

But of all that she taught me the one I value the most is what she taught me silently when she passed, that I have no control over anything except myself. That lesson walked into my life when I most needed it. I cried after she went about the what-if possibilities, when my dad told me, that it was her time to go, and there is no point in any what-ifs.

The only thing I can control is my part of the relationship with another person, my reaction to a situation or to what another person says to me, my thoughts about a situation, my words that I choose to utter, my emotions. Everything else is not mine to claim or change. This simple but powerful truth has changed my life. And she is my teacher.

I love you Ma, Happy Mother’s Day!!

I am a… Part 2

Okay, my previous post led quite a few readers to reach out to me and express their happiness of how well they identified and could relate to my situation. Thank you. That inspired me to delve one step further and clarify in my head what prayer means.

I think prayers are of two kinds, the standard one and the custom one. Let me explain. A standard prayer is printed somewhere or is carried forward from generation to generation, like the Lord’s prayer or Naamam as per Hindu traditions. The custom prayer of your personal outcry where the language is yours, words are yours, style and mood is what you define, an original piece of art. As a child I was never taught a standard prayer at home. I was that kid who came from Bangalore to central Kerala every summer with a suitcase and frocks in a taxi ambassador or Jeep. Cousins would gather to see what was in the suitcase, what frocks I had, and to hear about the magic of a distant land called Bangalore. Bangalore was the US of the 80s for most Keralites and I was privileged. So during one of those summer trips I found my aunt telling my cousins as the sun set to wash their hands and feet, light the lamp and pray. I followed them because as cousins you just copy each other. In my borrowed pavada-blouse (long skirt-blouse) I sat down with them. They started chanting the “Naamam” which is a prayer in praise of the Hindu Gods. I had no clue that something like this existed. I was surprised why my mother didn’t teach me these things. I just enjoyed the routine with my cousins, happy to wear the borrowed pavada-blouse and feel like a real Malayali.

My custom prayers almost always happened before the exam. My father told me to think of his deceased parents for blessings and write the exam, in the hope (he was sure) that they would help solve that crappy chemical equation or the long math theorem. Anyways I diligently obeyed prayed to them and aced my exams.

As I became more aware of the world, yonder world, souls, God, or to put it simply, as I increased my Spiritual knowledge, the magical Destiny kicked in. I started to believe that everything was destiny. If there was a supreme power that defined destiny, maybe. Until I read about and attended Dr Brian Weiss’s session. It was all about the soul. I still believe is Destiny but the soul and destiny define almost everything there is to life. So then going back to my original question, what is prayer? Are you really talking to God or the creator or the supreme?

No.

You are talking to yourself. To your inner conscience. When I “pray” asking for strength there is no magic happening where an ounce or pound of strength is invisibly pumped into you. I am telling my inner conscience to become stronger. Before all those exams I wrote, when I prayed to get good marks, nobody changed my answers on the answer sheet to make a 70, 95. What I had learnt and wrote got me the 95. Let’s take this example, you are going through a rough phase. You pray for help, strength, happiness whatever. 9 out of 10 times (unless your destiny is totally crappy) in a few hours or days or months the rough phase will pass. And you think, God made this happen, He turned things around. But really, did He? Look at it from the opposite side, good things were in store, so before that there was a low, that is how destiny plays out. Everyone can’t have good times all the time and everyone can’t have bad times all the time. So, did prayer do the magic?

So then why pray?

It is to create a layer above you. Otherwise we would simply drown in our ego. The layer you are creating above you is your conscience. It is your conscience that you should uphold at all times, irrespective of what you do. From times unknown or from religions created around the world, this layer has been called God. So we pray to God.

This is where the whole concept of custom prayer sky rockets way above my head. How can there even be a custom prayer? And that too loudly recited? Whose inner conscience are you reaching out to, your neighbors? Because the emphasis is not (most often) on feeling or meaning each word but play catch up. If you are slow you skip words to make the chorus sound right. It is funny and sad. People’s belief in custom prayers has blinded them from their inner conscience, is my personal take.

I am not an atheist. Atheist is one who does not believe in God. Do they believe in their inner conscience, maybe not is what I can guess. I am not sure. The only staunch atheist I know is my brother. Yes isn’t it a paradox that my father a staunch Brahmin and his son just the opposite.. 🙂. Having said everything I said above, I am starting to think that I am in between.. I believe in my inner conscience and I call that conscience God.

I want to teach my children to pray, so they believe in their inner conscience and can reach within for answers. That is what is important is my deduction based off what I wrote and read and spoke over the last few days. Not religion.. not practices.. what they decide to call this inner conscience and the practices they decide to adopt is upto them.

Texas Book Festival

2 days to go to the Texas book festival.. find me at the Writers League of Texas booth!!

Nude models

I saw this feature on TimesNow about nude models. These are women who earn their living by posing nude for artists. Artists and students of art paint these women in nude to learn anatomy, muscle structure etc. The women who featured in the video talk about how they felt awkward initially but soon understood that nudity is in the eyes of the beholder. One woman says the body is going to be burnt or buried anyways so what difference does it make. Another woman has kept this from get children while she uses the money she earns from this to feed her children.

I was initially shocked when I saw the feature. This was my first reaction. As I progressed through the video I was amazed at the outlook of these women. They may not be educated in schools and colleges but they have wisdom. At the end of the day it’s the food you put on your family’s plate, the shelter you provide that matters.

I did have a question though. Would these artists have the women in their house pose nude for learning art? Probably not. I read a few comments beneath the feature and didn’t see this perspective. You can call me a feminist but why not the women in your house. I have no disrespect to these women. I respect every person who works without cheating another, to earn a livelihood. I even respect that strata of women who earn money for sex. I despise the P word used to categorize these women. Every person is where they are because that’s where they are meant to be. If they are meant to be elsewhere those paths will open for them.

Watching this video was an eye opener for me. I never know that people lived this way. These women have husbands who support them. Broad mindedness for sure doesn’t come with school education.

Respect to these women and partially to the men. Partially so because they can see art as art but at the same time have to seek art outside their homes.

New waters

Not very often life presents you with a completely new set of choices. It retains the long and important relationships but everything else gets a reboot. The place you live in changes overnight. The building you call home changes to new walls, paint and furniture. Suddenly there are a whole set of people you meet to form new relationships. People you have never seen before, people you never knew existed until today. Your life mingles and meshes with theirs, even for a day, a few months and sometime years.

You tread new paths, intersections, turns. You are wading in new waters, swimming to new shores. All this happens just when you think that yes, now I can sit back and relax.

The most curious and aaha moment for me in this whole ordeal is meeting new people. After a few days you feel did you already know them, in another life maybe.. As you get to know people you hear their stories and are indirectly connected to a lot of people in their lives.

Change is inevitable, is a basic characteristic of life, and comes at a time when you are unprepared. But in each change when we are able to see it’s beauty, essence and it’s fitment in our life, the whole diversion makes sense.

In new waters.. I wade..

Riding the waves

The waves come lashing

One by one

There is a small one

Then there is a big one

As I look out

There are so many

Everyone is looking out

Everyone is watching

At their small waves

At their big ones

Unknown is every course

The strength to ride it

Comes from heavens above

Can I choose

Me thinks

There comes a big one

With a resounding no

I could be submerged

Under it’s magnanimity

Or I could struggle

Just a little bit

With all my strength

Ride over it

The more I think

The more easy it is to be submerged

When I let go

I realize

I’m riding the waves