How Difficult Is It to Admire Someone?

How would you define an individual? A sum total of positive and negative attributes collectively called as an individual's character. However, as not so evolved human beings we are prone to notice and comment on anybody’s negative traits at first instance. We judge, complain and criticize at every opportunity. 

All men have good and bad qualities in differing ratios. The ones with higher goodness are naturally more likable, lovable and memorable. But an interesting fact about our behavior is that while a person is living and around us we never happen to appreciate his goodness or his positivity. No matter how slight or dormant his negative side may be, we invariably carp and gossip about it. The imperfections are always magnified in our eyes. We are unable to perceive him beyond our filters.

But when that same person lives no more, his kindness surrounds us no more, we suddenly notice, discuss and appreciate his god-like qualities in all measures. It especially happens in families with family members.  When the family comes together at any occasion they remember the departed soul in his entire divine avatar.

So I just wondered why do we behave in this particular way. Why are we so stingy in somebody’s admiration in front of him? What restrains us from being vocal about another’s virtues while he is with us? Because it is funny that his absence should suddenly invoke knowledge of his goodness within us.

One reason is that sometimes we don’t realize the value and importance of people and things till they are taken away from us. Every good person or thing is taken for granted until that goodness ceases to abound us.  But this is only one fact and reason for the way we behave.

The other truer fact is that we are scared to appreciate somebody. It sounds mistaken but delve a little bit into yourself and you will realize how true it is. We are insecure and scared to acknowledge, accept and compliment somebody’s merit because it makes us look small in our own eyes. There is a hint of jealousy and insecurity within us and it is so subtle that we may never even know about it.  We are afraid to face our own deficiencies and in defense choose to find and notice the other’s deficiency as well.  It superficially comforts us.

However, when that same person is gone, all his goodness comes to the forefront maybe because now there is no threat to our ego or pressure to mould ourselves to his better ways.  But even in relationships where there is no scope of competition or comparison, we still hesitate to admire someone. This strange behavior totally baffles me.

 My grandfather was a man who commanded respect of his family, friends, staff and almost the entire city through his generosity, integrity, resourcefulness and his simplicity.  But until he passed away, I as a granddaughter never really acknowledged it or admired him; in fact got irritated at his certain idiosyncrasy. And today when I sit with my family, I so fondly remember all his virtues and feel proud of being his granddaughter.

In ten good things, we still pick up the one bad thing about a person. How shallow of our thoughts. Coming to think, genuine appreciation really enables a flow of beautiful positive energies between two souls. When two spirits exchange joy between them, there is music of solace and dance of delight permeating through our nerves. Only if our lives could be about accepting the good and letting go of the bad, the days would be refreshingly pleasant.

The Bleak Twilight

Catching reflection of my slightly greying hair in the mirror concerns me about my age.

 I am still in my early thirties. I wonder how I would feel at sixty five. The mop of my mane will be mostly grey and skin sagging no matter what night cream I use now. Yes, I agree, my lament is highly vain and superficial. Still worse things could happen to my body at sixty five like high cholesterol, high blood pressure, diabetes and the likes.  But I am relying on advanced medical sciences to remedy them. It might take away some pleasures and conveniences from life but I am hoping the overall situation will not be very grim.  Because honestly, other painful and horrible things happen to people in old age. 

My parents live a very beautiful and contented life with my brother, his wife and two adorable grandchildren.  Though they still lead a very active life, a significant part of their lives revolves around their family especially grand children who are their absolute joy. When I hypothetically imagine that this bond be disrupted by someone, I shudder at the trauma and untold grief that my parents would undergo. This distressed imagination is enough to remind me that such a situation should never take place in the lives of my husband’s parents as well.  I may not be able to live with the guilt of rupturing the most treasured bond shared between grandparents and a grandchild even more cherished than a parent and child’s relationship.

Sadly, thousands of old people are living miserable and anguished lives in old age homes away from their loved ones. The psychological impact of leading such forced isolated lives, constantly craving for love and care, is detrimental beyond medical repair. Their eyes grow tired in anticipation of some visitor but none arrives. Every moment is a struggle of emotions where each tear pines to glimpse the grandchild. 

While figuring out the motivation for abandonment of parents, one reason starkly stands out. In most cases, the daughters-in-law find them a liability, intrusion and an unnecessary part of the family which should be gotten rid of. To which the weak and subversive husband meekly complies. It is not to conjure villains out of sons or daughters-in-law. It is to note the condemning degeneration of our values and thoughts.

It is understandable that sometimes people don’t get along with each other. The children might have differences and rifts with their parents and in-laws. In such cases the ideal solution is that people start living separately amicably. Distances do breed fondness. That is how the westerners live, each one enjoying their space with no bitter feelings. And dwelling in the comfort that their children still care about them and they wouldn’t have to spend an eternity to hug their grandchildren. But throwing your parents out, robbing them of their dignity and self-respect, taking away their share of love and affection is simply heinous. What turns us into such cold and self centred beasts that a mother’s wail and a father’s pleading to be with their family falls on deaf ears and blind eyes?

Though there can be no rationale behind such repugnancy, the one that my generation resorts to is financial burden. Ask us, if there are such financial strains did we think of cutting on our wardrobe, limiting our outings, budgeting our holidays. No. But yes, we did decide to cut off our old mother and an ailing father. Strange ways of a debauched world full of frigid consciences, to this end I conclude in a verse,

“We squabble from parents to planet all,

Which my mind comprehends not;

The globe is warming but hearts are cold,

We bring in pets but not our parents old.”

END
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Short Story - AGE NO BAR

The phone rings. Mr. Kapoor tosses in bed cursing his alarm to go off so early. Still in sleep he tries to snooze it, but the phone goes on ringing. It takes him half a minute to realize it’s not the alarm but an incoming call. Blurrily he looks at the time and the name flashing on the screen, “Chaudhary?” he mutters.

“Chaudhary, is everything alright? Are you okay?” asks Mr. Kapoor in panic fighting his sleep. An unexpected call at an odd hour can be very unnerving.

“Yeah I am fine, Kapoor. Everything’s okay” replies a composed Mr. Chaudhary.

“Then what on earth made you call at five in the morning? You scared the hell out of me” chides Mr. Kapoor still confused but relaxed.

“I have a plan for today for the three of us.”

“What plan?” interrupts Mr. Kapoor.

“Let me finish man” cuts in Mr. Chaudhary “Banerjee, you and I are meeting for breakfast at the Woodlands at 7.30 like old times and then we just take off for the day.”

“Huh? Take off where and what for?” questions a baffled Mr. Kapoor.

“There’s no plan, that’s the plan my friend! Now relax and sleep for a while but be there on time.” Mr. Chaudhary is about to hang up when he suddenly adds, “Kapoor, come on your Enfield. We’ll hit it on the bikes today.”

Mr. Chaudhary informs his other friend Mr. Banerjee likewise.

The three senior citizens gather around the same table under the tree in the open air restaurant. Of late Chennai was soaking itself in the unusual monsoon of July.  It was a fresh morning, moist and cool with last night’s thunder showers.

“Buddha ho gaya, but the old chap won’t let go of his style?” teased Mr. Chaudhary.

“Kapoor, what are these dark glasses for on a damp morning?” Mr. Banerjee guffawed.

“You guys have barely reached sixty five and turned senile. You think the entire day is going to be cool and cloudy?” Mr. Kapoor takes off his sun glasses and quietens his bantering friends.

They settle for a hearty breakfast of steaming hot idlis, ghee drizzled pongal and vadas simmered in tangy rasam. The table, the menu and the time, was all a tradition since their college days.

   

As they savoured their filter coffees, Mr. Banerjee commented, “Now what boys?”

Mr. Chaudhary checked his watch, “Let’s hit the Marina. It’s been so long since strolling on the beach”

The others agreed and they strode to their bikes.

“Banerjee whose pillion you wish to be, mine or Chaudhary’s?”

“Anyone is fine yaar” he replied nonchalantly then added, “Okay I’ll go with you Kapoor.”

Mr. Chaudhary on his Yamaha and Mr. Kapoor and Mr. Banerjee on the Royal Enfield zipped through to the Marina Beach. Having parked their bikes, they just stood on the promenade gazing at the grey sky, breathing in the sweet smell of the dewy sand and the cool sea breeze. Mr. Chaudhary outstretched his arms as if lifting his soul into the folds of the horizon.

Mr. Banerjee broke the quiet reverie, “Hey Chaudhary, how come this sudden plan of us meeting like this?”

Mr. Kapoor interjected, “Arre Chaudhary gets filmy sometimes. He must have thought Kal ho na ho so we might as well enjoy the idlis and pongal today itself.”

Mr. Chaudhary slapped his friend’s back, “Kapoor is right. What if we are not there tomorrow or worse, Woodlands shuts down?” They all laughed aloud. “Jokes apart guys, when was the last time we went out on impulse or simply loosened ourselves? We may not be young anymore but that shouldn’t restrain us from enjoying life.”

They absorbed the thought. “What you say is so true Chaudhary.” Mr. Kapoor held his friend over the shoulder.

We tick off a lot of years in life. And after crossing a certain number we call ourselves old. But old doesn't imply being lonely, cranky or confined. Old is simply the opposite of new and young. It is not the opposite of fun and excitement. A sun has seen a billion years pass by but its age doesn't stop it from rising bright each day, so goes for a man. 

The three friends were looking in the distance taking in the delights of the beach when Mr. Kapoor beamed “Let’s have some fun” glancing at his friends “and we are going to drag Banerjee in the water like old times.”

The three friends hurried towards the water in a new wave of enthusiasm.  After soaking their feet and enjoying the spray of waves, they reminisced their carefree college days and all that followed - marriage, kids, responsibilities and the present day. 

Mr. Banerjee was a cricket fan and played for various clubs and tournaments during his college days. He spotted a bunch of boys playing at the far end of the beach and exulted, “Come on folks. Enough of chit chat, let’s get into real action.”

“Banerjee don’t tell me you still wish to lose to me in a bout of boxing” teased Mr. Kapoor.

“Forget your boxing voxing, let’s join those lads for some cricket, man” he pointed to the group.

“Banerjee are you nuts? We haven’t touched the bat for years and now you want to make fools of us in front of those young boys. Not a good idea” dismissed Mr. Kapoor.

“It’s not such a bad idea after all Kapoor” cajoled Mr. Chaudhary, “we don’t know them, they don’t know us. So who cares how we play. We’ll play some balls and leave. Now don’t be a spoilsport.”

“As if you guys ever listened to me” complained Mr. Kapoor and walked reluctantly with his friends.

Mr. Banerjee took the lead and approached one of the boys, “Hi there.”

“Hello” replied the boy politely.

“You guys play here every Sunday?” asked Mr. Banerjee.

“Yup uncle” replied the boy.

“Do you mind if we oldies join your game for a while” he asked the boy pointing towards Mr. Kapoor and Mr. Chaudhary.

“Sure uncle. It will be fun” he replied at once looking excited.

“But we won’t be playing the entire match” warned Mr. Kapoor “That’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, no problem uncle. You play as long as you wish to” consoled the boy chuckling.

Mr. Banerjee was in his element. Despite playing after a long hiatus he smashed the ball one after the other. The boys cheered him loud, it was a charged atmosphere and the sheer joy of playing was evident all over his face.

But Mr. Kapoor was truly the surprise element. It was finally his ball which took Mr. Banerjee’s long sought wicket. Mr. Kapoor was so thrilled at his feat that he broke into an impromptu Gangnam style dance and the boys went crazy seeing his antics. There was jeering and cheering.

The three friends exuded a new sense of free spirit. Eventually the cricket frenzy subsided and they thanked the boys, promising to return the next week.  Sitting on the promenade, they recouped with the tender coconut water and broke into bouts of laughter for no apparent reason.

“Banerjee your bald head really shines man. It’s a sign of a heavy bank balance” Mr. Chaudhary joked.

“Nothing like that. I was a simpleton back then and am the same now” spoke Mr. Banerjee.

“Sincere and studious that’s how I really remember Banerjee in the college. I was the frivolous one” remarked Mr. Kapoor.

“You still are Kapoor” added Mr. Chaudhary laughing.

“That’s about me but what about you Chaudhary? Remember how the poor guy’s heart tugged every time Sandhya crossed him.” Mr. Kapoor badgered his friend raising eyebrows waiting for Mr. Chaudhary to react.

“You still remember her name, Kapoor?” asked Mr. Chaudhary in surprise.

“I remember everything” Mr. Kapoor peered towards Mr. Banerjee and they smirked seeing Mr. Chaudhary flush.

“Okay, okay that was long time ago” Mr. Chaudhary tried steering the conversation. “Tell me what we do now.”

Mr. Banerjee checked the time and suggested, “Let’s go for a ride on the East Coast Road. It’s fine weather.”

They all agreed, got onto their bikes and drove down to the ECR. ECR is one of the most scenic drives through Chennai. Past all the debris and unorganized construction in the outskirts, characteristic of every Indian city, you will find yourself on a beautiful serene drive lined with vast stretches of palm groves and lapping back waters.

Add to it a cloudy sky and nippy breeze with three friends hanging out. It doesn't get better.  As the senior citizens accelerated on the clear highway, the clouds also packed denser. The noon sky now resembled dusk and slowly trickles of rain felt cold on their faces.

“Wow Chaudhary, this is so much fun man” exclaimed Mr. Kapoor thoroughly enjoying himself licking the rain water off his lips, “I hate to admit it but you are actually the smartest of us. Great plan.”

“Thanks buddy but I knew it all along that I am the smartest” Mr. Chaudhary replied grinning cockily.

“Yeah Chaudhary, we should do such things more often” yelled Mr. Banerjee from behind Mr. Kapoor.

Just then Mr. Kapoor spotted a fritter stall at a short distance, “Boys we can do with some hot tea and bajji in this weather.”

The two bikes followed in the direction. There was a speed breaker just before the stall and the stall itself was on the side dirt road. Mr. Chaudhary, normally a safe and attentive rider, didn’t notice the bump and the bike jerked hard. Just as he realized it, he tried steering the bike into the dirt track. The rains had made the roads slippery and the dirt track was slushy. He couldn’t maintain the balance and the bike skidded.

“Chaudhary!” shouted Mr. Banerjee in disbelief. He was the first to notice him fall and rushed to his friend.

Mr. Chaudhary luckily fell on the dirt track but was pressed down with the weight of the bike on his chest. However, the helmet ensured that there were no head injuries.

Mr. Kapoor was flabbergasted at the sudden turn of events and hurried towards them. He and Mr. Banerjee lifted the bike off Mr. Chaudhary’s chest, making him sit upright. He gnarled in pain.  His limbs were badly bruised but there were no serious cuts. They lifted him off the ground with some locals’ help, supporting him on their shoulders.

But as he tried taking a step, he was not able to move his left foot. There was shooting pain and inflammation. They dragged him cautiously to the wooden bench and made him sit.

Mr. Kapoor inquired about the closest hospital or clinic around from the locals while Mr. Banerjee looked out for an auto rickshaw to take them to the hospital.

Chennai has several medical and engineering colleges on the ECR highway and fortunately for them the Shriram Medical College and Hospital was only a kilometre away. They quickly found an auto rickshaw, carried Mr. Chaudhary and rushed to the hospital.

Mr. Chaudhary was immediately admitted to the ward after all the formalities. A resident doctor attended to his injuries and bruises while they waited for the attending doctor to come. An X-ray of his left foot and chest were done.

As they waited for the doctor, Mr. Kapoor made small talk to lighten the atmosphere, “Chaudhary in whose thoughts were you lost man, to miss that huge bump?”

“None yaar. It’s just that I wanted to give you a chance to do my seva” winked Mr. Chaudhary, with the pain easing a bit.

Mr. Kapoor retorted, “Really? Okay so while in service of you I missed my roadside tea, you better make up for it in some five star lounge.”

The three oldies had a hearty laugh.

The attending doctor entered just then, knocking the door lightly. She was reading through the resident doctor’s report in her hand and glanced up adjusting her glasses, “Mr Chaudhary?”

“Yes doctor.” And as the doctor and the patient looked at each other they sensed an old familiarity.  They looked for a long moment but neither was able to place each other in memory.

As the doctor was examining his foot, he noticed the name badge on the doctor’s lab coat, “Dr. Sandhya Kamath!” he read aloud.

And it triggered his memory, “Dr. Sandhya from Hinduja College?” he asked in astonishment.

The mention of their college name made Dr. Sandhya recall the past. She was skeptical but hesitantly confirmed, “So Mr. Chaudhary, you are Brijesh Chaudhary from Hinduja, Engineering Dept.?”

“Yup” smiled Mr. Chaudhary broadly. They looked at each other in amazement. They were seeing each other after nearly forty years.  They had been in touch for a few years after college but lost contact eventually.

To break the element of awe Mr. Kapoor chirped in, “And I am Gautam Kapoor, remember?”

Dr. Sandhya turned to him, “Of course I remember, the stud Gautam Kapoor”

Mr. Kapoor flushed and Dr. Sandhya smiled.

“And you are Sunil Banerjee, right?” she asked expectantly.

“So you remember the entire gang” smiled Mr. Banerjee.

“Well yes.” she replied “but how come this accident?” she enquired.

Mr. Banerjee narrated the events to her.

“Hmm. Got to be more careful, Brijesh” she spoke kindly and turned to Mr. Chaudhary continuing her examination.

“Well Brijesh, nothing to worry” she consoled “I have checked your X-rays. Thankfully the ribs are all okay but there might be some inflammation due to the pressure of the bike on your chest. However, there is a minor crack in your left foot” she diagnosed.

“Don’t tell me you are going to plaster it for months?” asked a concerned Mr. Chaudhary.

“Nah, we’ll just bandage it with a crepe bandage provided you agree to take proper care with no unnecessary movements.” She faked sternness but allayed his fear.

“As you say, Doc” promised Mr. Chaudhary.

“Alright, then I’ll instruct the resident doctor and will see you around later after my rounds.” And she left.

By the time the doctor finished bandaging Mr. Chaudhary’s foot it was past four o’clock. They hadn’t eaten anything for lunch. Mr. Chaudhary insisted that Mr. Kapoor and Mr. Banerjee have some snacks in the canteen while he just wanted to have a cup of coffee.

Dr. Sandhya returned just then to check on him. “So how do you feel now?” she asked in her pleasant voice.

“Quite better after those tablets” replied Mr. Chaudhary smiling and straightening up on the bed. “So when did you come back to Chennai? I had no idea you were practising here.”

“Actually my daughter is settled here. So after Sanjay passed away she insisted that I come and stay with her” replied Sandhya in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Oh I am really sorry Sandhya. I didn’t know about Sanjay” Mr. Chaudhary felt strangely sad.

“That’s okay. It was five years back in a cardiac arrest” she informed looking downcast but immediately regained her composure, “How about you? How have you and your family been?”

“Well my son is working in Singapore. Doing well there” he smiled vaguely “and my wife Preeti, I lost her two years back. She was suffering from cancer.”

Sandhya listened sadly, “I too am sorry.”

“That’s life” Mr. Chaudhary sighed but tried to lighten up, “So here I am all by myself.”

Dr. Sandhya managed to smile. She could empathize with Mr. Chaudhary completely.

In the dusk of life, the need for a partner or rather a companion becomes manifold. Your nest is empty because your off springs have their own lives to lead. Life has its own strange ways. When you depend on your partner's emotional and physical presence the most, he or she is gone. You don’t stop living or laughing without them but a quiet bareness surrounds you.  

Soon after, Mr. Kapoor and Mr. Banerjee returned. “So old friends catching up?” Mr. Kapoor asked blithely.

Dr. Sandhya simply nodded.

“So Sandhya, can we take him home?” enquired Mr. Banerjee.

“Yes of course. He has to continue with the medicines and avoid putting pressure on his left foot. In a couple of days the inflammation and pain will subside considerably” assured Dr. Sandhya.

“Then I’ll call for the taxi” interrupted Mr. Kapoor.

“Okay fellows I’ll take your leave now. Have an operation lined up” Dr. Sandhya got ready to leave, “it was so wonderful and unexpected to meet all of you again” she beamed gleefully “and this is my number Brijesh, if there’s any problem please feel free to call anytime” she waved from the door “and we must keep in touch now.”

Mr. Chaudhary thanked her and they all chorused “Bye.”

In the taxi, Mr. Chaudhary told his friends about his conversation with Dr. Sandhya.

A week had passed since that Sunday. Mr. Kapoor and Mr. Banerjee had been checking on Mr. Chaudhary regularly. In fact Dr. Sandhya also called twice to assess his recovery.

It was a Sunday again and the three friends were sitting at Mr. Chaudhary’s residence recollecting last week’s events from the fun to the fall and then meeting Dr. Sandhya out of the blue. The mention of Dr. Sandhya lead their conversation to their college days and Mr. Kapoor teased Mr. Chaudhary about his feelings for her back then. But apparently they shared a great rapport as friends.

After a while the laughter quietened down and they were musing about life when Mr. Kapoor suddenly spoke up, “Chaudhary, why don’t you go out with Sandhya?”

“Kapoor, what are you talking about? I don’t make any sense out of it” rebuked Mr. Chaudhary.

“Listen calmly, Chaudhary” placated Mr. Kapoor “you both shared a great understanding then. You enjoyed each other’s company. Today both of you are alone. So why can’t you be each other’s friends again?”

“Are you really out of your mind, Kapoor?” reproached Mr. Chaudhary in irritation, “Talk some sense into him, Banerjee.” And turned to his other friend for support.

“What Kapoor says is not wrong.” Mr. Banerjee spoke gently pressing his friend’s shoulder.

“Banerjee have you also lost it? I thought you would be more sensible” spoke Mr. Chaudhary visibly agitated.

“Chaudhary, relax man” rebuffed Mr. Kapoor. “We are not suggesting that you to take her on a date or start some superficial relationship. We are simply telling you that at this juncture in life you can be each other’s friend and companion. Sharing your thoughts, your interests and your emotions.”

Mr. Chaudhary listened carefully without speaking.

“Chaudhary, we are grownups here, rather oldies. What we are talking here is a sensitive, respectful bonding between two individuals. Opening yourself to her as a friend might let you complete each other’s emptiness that comes with the loss of a partner.” Mr Banerjee assuaged his friend’s agitation patiently and kindly.

Mr. Chaudhary was pensive and silent. He could see his friends’ perspective now but was not quite sure.

“Think about it Chaudhary. You don’t have to work for it. Just let the flow of your friendship grow naturally buddy” Mr. Kapoor patted his friend on the shoulder and left.

His friends’ words kept whirring in Mr. Chaudhary’s mind long after they left. He retired to bed but Mr. Banerjee’s words kept him up.

It had been fifteen days since the accident. Mr. Chaudhary’s wounds had healed well and the bandage had come off as well. He had been thinking about his friends’ last conversation a lot.

Finally he picked up his phone, “Hello”

The other end replied “Hello”

“Hi Sandhya, it’s me Brijesh” spoke Mr. Chaudhary nervously.

“Oh yes Brijesh, how have you been?” replied Dr. Sandhya pleasantly adding, “Hope all is well. Do you still feel any pain?”

“Oh! no. I am fit as a fiddle now. Thanks to you” replied Mr. Chaudhary easing up.

“That’s good news” she smiled at the other end.

“Sandhya I was wondering if you are free tomorrow night, would you like to join me for dinner?” asked Mr. Chaudhary in great apprehension.

Dr. Sandhya could sense his hesitation but she was placid, “Tomorrow is Saturday” she muttered to herself then continued “Yeah Brijesh, tomorrow suits me fine. I’ll be winding up early anyway.”

Mr. Chaudhary relaxed at her response, “So I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds perfect” replied Dr. Sandhya radiantly. “So see you tomorrow”

The dinner was a beginning of a new friendship between Dr. Sandhya and Mr. Chaudhary where they revisited old memories and made plans for new. The companionship of watching theatre together, attending musical performances or simply watching the change of tides was their joy... and the Sunday impetuous plans of the three friends was undoubtedly a fresh way to live a tired age.

There is truly a sunny time for every age.  An individual’s celebration of life is not bound by his age; it is bound by the society’s perception of his age. When we choose and dare to look beyond those perceptions there is still sun and water on our side.

END

Nature’s Poetry in Lagos

A delight for the senses

A tourist sees a place, an explorer feels it. While exploring our world in small parts, I have savoured some of the stunning beaches in my odysseys to Seychelles, Greece, Italy and Portugal.  Seychelles and Favignana in Italy are exceptionally picturesque and pristine, no doubt. But drinking from the beauty of Lagos in Portugal was quite something else. A journey of ethereal beauty. Not amongst the popular tourist itineraries this paradise is tucked away in the south of Portugal lapping its shores with the shimmering Atlantic Ocean.

Blossoming meadows over the cliffs

It is so incredibly beautiful in its evolution that you are simply in awe of the romanticism of the creator. The beauty is not so much in its emerald and sapphire waters than in the cliffs and rock formations that stand and bask in its own grandeur. Pathways to the cliffs take you to a landscape that smiles with colours of love and romance. Wild flowers are strewn all over in charismatic abundance. “No landscape architect can do better than this” quoted my Architect and    photographer husband. The sheer glamour in its wilderness is breathtaking. Shades of greens, violets, yellows and reds form a patulous kaleidoscope.

View of the grottos and water from top of the cliff

And as you amble through this adonis garden climbing higher, the grottos rise in view heralding adventure and curiosity.  Your imagination will fall short and your senses will rejoice soaking in the majesty of nature. These huge rock structures are symmetry of hollowness and mass.  Of less and more. Of seen and unseen.  While the cliffs are visible and pregnable, mysterious caves hold secrets in its solitude. Boats take you around it but none can venture inside.

Walking down the boardwalk to marvel at the beauty

Through this conspicuous panorama a boardwalk leads down and as you descend its every seasoned plank, you only squeal in joy of amazement while the eyes absorb the glory. Transparent and tranquil waters welcome you. I would call them walled beaches, expanse of water and sand with tunnels that take you to the other side and huge rocks that surround you like a wall .Praia de Dona Ana, Praia do Camilo and Praia do Porto de Mos are the highlights of this lyrical shoreline. No matter how good your lens, no camera can capture what your eyes and spirit experience.

But do not be misguided to think of Lagos as some quaint little town shrouded in nonentity. The city covers much in length and breadth so don’t fool your legs to walk it all through. The marina is at the heart of the city which is also called the City centre.  While the sea hums with nature’s paeans, the centre thrives on cafes, bars and boutiques. A melting pot of touristic occupation.

So now when the sunny boy is out some more, how gorgeous it would be to tan golden in the lap of the ethereal beauty where combines the symphony of elegance and enigma?  

A Longing Heart

I looked into the sky, Saw the clouds passing by.

An angel across just swayed, and my eyes saw your face.

I stroked your cheeks and dreams filled me,

 A brimming life with love so bright;

Like a stream of moonlight cascading the night.

The wind then hugged me, and echoes I heard,

“Your princess she is”, the leaves whispered.

Oh love me now, I can’t wait for morrow.

This moment is mine, lady make it divine.

I ask for no more...

You took away my heart

Now give me your soul...

My 1st Update on Conscious Joyfulness

It was liberating to say the least. Yes, I successfully maintained my state of joyfulness for the entire day. Of course I had to remind myself about it when I woke up in the morning but after that I just sailed through it benignly. 

It is exhilarating. I will not say that I turned into a sage yesterday but even when I was angry at somebody I wasn’t bitter.  Sometimes there are moments when you know your words and thoughts are hurtful, derisive or negative but you succumb to them anyway only to carry the burden of guilt and regret for a long time. This state of conscious joyfulness saves all the trouble. You genuinely feel so good in and around yourself that you do not waste it on unnecessary negativity.

Of course a day of success doesn’t imply that I have championed the art but I have made a beginning. And I hope, faltering and rising, I will continue to make progress.  It would be great if any of you too make an initiative and share your experience with me.

My Attempt at Conscious Joyfulness...

The wind feels beautiful as it caresses me with its cool arms. Its touch is pleasing. Inspiring. Rejuvenating. The coconut palms look elegant standing slender and gleaming against the retiring sun. The ficus tree stands majestic. Its leaves glowing in the warmth against the gelid breeze.  The silence is calming and clarifying. It’s like the clarifying water I use to cleanse all grime off my face. Only this silence clears my head.  It is serene. It is natural. My thoughts rush nowhere. I am undergoing a mental spa. I am asking the Formless Divine to fill me with infinite peace and love forever.

It’s nice, this feeling of contentment. Of pure joy. At this very moment I wish happiness for all. Suddenly I am free of jealousy, insecurity and fear. Just as I write this, I sadly realize I am not free of fear after all. I fear my serenity is in jeopardy. My little urchin is about to wake and the tranquillity both inside and outside me will be a thing of the past. I will have to learn to retain this state of calmness at all times. The task is of self-consciousness. Who said it is easy but it is worth the effort. The lightness, the freedom surrounding my being at this instance is delightful. How I wish I could be in this state of conscious joy always. I decide now not to be ruffled by petty issues whirling all around me. This is my stance for now and tomorrow.

 I decide to be in this state of conscious joyfulness for an entire day.. And true to my word I will update my status of elation tomorrow.

Is There a Time for Love?

Is there a time for love? I wonder. Yes there is. I confirm. There is that definite moment when a special someone comes into your life and sweeps you off your feet. There is a time when the rains seem much more than drops of water. There is a time when the night beholds much more than the appearance of stars. And when the chill in the air asks for more than the warmth of your duvet. Yup! This is the time when you are in love, in romance, midst fragrance and fantasy. The world suddenly changes. No, it becomes very beautiful.

I recently read a book “I too had a love story”. It’s a true story of love and loss. A simple, honest and touching narration. The author evoked every single memory of my own courtship, that racing heart before the first date, those night to dawn phone calls, those countless loving names you christen each other with and that intense urge just to be with each other forever. It’s like the rest of the world suddenly ceases to matter and your entire thought process revolves around that one person. Unfortunately, the author is denied the opportunity to spend his life with his loved one as he loses her in a fatal accident. His heart aching despair and grief  is easily evident in his words. Fortunately, I am married and living with the man of my dreams.

However, after spending considerable time in my marriage and with my loved one, I again happen to ask myself a question “Is there a time for love?” Yes there is. But to put it subtly, now comes the time for prosaic love the poetic love kind of takes leave. It is only natural. In time, the night really beholds only an hour of t.v. together and a good night’s sleep and the rain is really only pouring water. But mind you prosaic love is typically comforting. There is no pressure to please or impress each other and no worry of being judged.

No matter how exciting and romantic your courtship and dating might seem and may have been, it does not continue at the same level in a marriage forever which is normal. Marriage is not about always being passionate and overjoyed together. I feel marriage is a cumbersome and contrite word because we have fixed ideas and role play about being married and affirming to it is taxing. In fact, I am tempted to say that marriage is many a time an overrated concept but companionship is not. As a couple my husband and I have differences between us but as companions we are still each other’s best friends and critics. That is exactly why a relationship independent of a name always feels more fun and less fatigue.

There is a chronological order for every phase of love. Time gives way to the change in phase, changes in feelings and its manifestation and most importantly changes in responsibilities and circumstances. And resenting the change is not very helpful rather idiocy.  When I compare my first wedding anniversary celebration to my sixth, there is a lot of difference. By our sixth we skipped the routine of cards, flowers and surprise gifts but I still wanted my hair to fall silkily on my shoulder, I wanted my kohled eyes to twinkle and catch his attention. Basically I did still want to look ravishing to him that night.

 And then when I compare my anniversary to my parents’, there is further a lot of difference. After all those years of being married they find all and any manifestation unnecessary, the companionship alone is special and celebratory. I call it the time for seasoned love.

So there comes a time for poetic love, prosaic love and seasoned love but the thread of thoughtfulness has to run through all these times always because that’s what makes the relationship desirable at any time.