I have never waited as much for a year to begin as I did for you.
I have never waited as much for a year to end as I have done for you.
Dear 2017, you were not what I wanted or expected you to be. Everything that I hoped to go right passed me by and everything that had to go wrong stayed right back with me. Tragic deaths of friends, illness in the family, health scares, and more shook up my life as I know it. In other words, you epitomised my favourite quote.
Just when I knew all the answers to life’s questions, the questions changed. ~ Anonymous
And in all the disappointments, unhappiness, turbulence and heartbreak that you brought with you this year, you imparted valuable lessons. Lessons that were sometimes gentle and subtle, sometimes rammed down my throat, and sometimes delivered with a rap on my knuckles.
As your year comes to an end (and I can’t wait to bid you goodbye !), I want to sum up what you were for me with a focus on the important lessons you taught, rather than on all the negative things you brought.
It was twilight, that magical time between day and night, when she arrived at the gates of the Jalakandeshwar temple in Vellore, Tamil Nadu. Though it was a summer day in May, the gentle breeze going around made the heat bearable.
She stood diffidently at the entrance, looking around and wishing she were elsewhere — maybe exploring the Fort within which the temple was located… She didn’t really believe in God or rituals and found temples to be noisy, dirty places. But she had promised her father that she would visit the temple while in Vellore, so there she was.
She entered the temple complex hesitantly and looked around. To her surprise, the temple wasn’t overly crowded and there was a pleasant buzz in the air. While some devotees were offering prayers at the various shrines, many others were sitting around talking, socialising, relaxing and presumably waiting for the evening aarti to begin.
As she was wondering which way to head, the faint strains of music wafted her way and decided to follow the sound. It led her to an old man sitting on the ground outside a small shrine with a shruti box and singing Rama nannu, a Tyagaraja kriti. The old man had a beautiful voice, full of devotion and passion, and she immediately entranced. She sat down near the old man to listen to him and was soon caught up in the emotions of the song, which was about the all-pervading nature of God (Rama) and His existence in every living being.
When the old man finished singing, she realised that her cheeks were wet. As she wiped her face with her dupatta, she heard a voice whispering to her:
The last month or so has been quite hectic as I finished writing, editing, rewriting, editing, rewriting and finally publishing a number of long pending blogposts. Once I started and got into the rhythm and routine of writing, it was an exhilarating, though exhausting, time. While I enjoyed the buzz and the high that writing always gives, I’m glad it is over for now. Not because I don’t like writing, but because I’m travelling from today evening onwards. Read further to know where I’m headed. 🙂
I had planned to publish a short post from one of the many series I have on the blog today, but then chanced upon a post on “Taking Stock” on one of my all time favourite blogs, Making it Lovely. I loved reading it, and though I don’t write about or post stuff like that here, I was inspired to do my version of it.
After all, there is always a first time, right?
I wrote this post from start to finish today morning and it took me a little over an hour to write it. For every word prompt, I just wrote the first thing that came to mind and I can’t tell you how much fun I had. So here goes. This is what I’m up to these days… Continue reading “A little bit of that, a little bit of this…”→
It has been a year of fulfilling long-held dreams, exciting travel experiences, great perspective shifting books read, poor health thanks to my allergies, unexpected happiness and loss, achievements and opportunities lost, friends made and lost… among others. But most of all it has been a year of serendipity. A year where attending an event led me to take a decision that I now know has enriched my life in immeasurable ways and has imperceptibly changed it too.
On January 25, 2015, I attended a session on “Why a Library of Classical Indian Literature?” at the Jaipur Literature Festival, which had Sheldon Pollock as a speaker. I chose to attend this for two reasons — (ii) my niece had a lot of good things to say about Pollock’s writings, and (ii) the idea of a library of classical Indian literature was intriguing. To say that the session was great and Sheldon Pollock inspiring is a huge understatement, but what it did was to rekindle a desire to study classical Indian literature and art in a formal and structured setting.
Back home in Mumbai, I enrolled for the PG Diploma Programme in Indian Aesthetics conducted by Jnanapravaha. (I must add here that I had known about this course for about 2 years and had been dithering over joining it.) Classes began in July and at this point, I’m half-way through the programme. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the programme has raised more questions than given answers that I sought. And I mean this in the best possible way as I think, read and research into Indian Classical Art. In other words, I’m still feeling my way around. 😛
That was 2015.
I don’t know what 2016 has in store for me, but I hope that it will be enriching. I begin 2016 with some travel to new destinations, which have been influenced by the programme I’m enrolled in. One of them is Mahabalipuram, which I visited in 1997 at a time when I neither understood its relevance or its beauty. I hope I can do both this time around. Watch this space for more. 🙂
Happy New Year, dear friend. Thank you for reading, commenting, writing, sharing, appreciating. Wish you the very best that 2016 has in store.
Before you go, I’d like to know what was the most important event in 2015 for you? And what are you looking forward to the most in 2016? Do share with me in the comments section of this post.
It was close to noon sometime last week. I was at work and wrestling with some pending bills, my least favourite task in the world.
“The morning mail’s here and there’s a packet for you,” announced G, my office assistant as she came into my room and handed a medium-sized envelope to me.
“Personal or official?” I asked, glad for the distraction.
“I think it is personal,” said G as she turned to leave.
“It is. And I know what’s inside too,” I said when I saw the return address on the envelope. “Go, get the others. I think all of you will like to see this.”
Within minutes my office team had gathered gathered around my table and the envelope had been cut open and its contents spread on the table — lots and lots of photographs of my family, many of which I was seeing for the first time.
“So many photographs!” exclaimed a team member. “Someone in your family must have been very fond of photography.”
As we went through the photographs, I told them of the two photographers in the family who had taken the bulk of the photos. I also shared the memories and stories behind the ones I could recognise, and how the photographs in the envelope came to be sent to me.