Dots

From dotted lines to dotting the I’s

The whole story is laid out.

One with dreamy eyes

and one,

wanting the dreams to realize.

I get it.

And I trail off. . . . .

Again.

I want that too.

Except I want clarity first.

Which of my dreams do I want to realize ?

I have a few.

Which I’s do I want to dot ?

Which ones are just exclamations… masquerading like I’s ?

I must be honest.

I have to ponder..

Procrastination.. that is how it may look like

But it is not, at least for me

I want to really listen to my soul

And I am not in a hurry.

We will dot the I’s and cross the T’s..

Until then.

Let’s read between the dots.

While one dot ends a sentence

One more next to it keeps the story moving

. . . . .

If you join the dots

You will get the picture.

Scoopful

Words..Poems..Painting..Songs.. Pictures

From the projected metaphors of my existence

I gather a scoopful of my identities.

I watch as they melt in the sultry monsoon heat

Uncertain about the form

They mingle

First the colours run ..then the form

I feel, the joy the hurt the sadness the exhilaration the anger

Of each of them.

I struggle to find words

corresponding to this experience

of witnessing .

I am my own worst imitator.

In the end

I think

I will just be the scoop.

Rain boy

He ran chasing the rainbow

Hoping to catch it at the next turn

He was determined.

Crossed many a puddles;

Some splashed through carelessly

Some carefully jumped over.

he ran

and missed

The many many little rainbows

That were right there at his feet.

Strewn abundantly across the puddles

He cried.

and so did the rain

If only.

In or Out

The notion holds hostage - true freedom exists the stage;

The prison guard feels free - and the prisoner inside the cage;

When he is the one who can get out - but the trap of ego, is just a lot.

Inside a prison - everyone’s caught

The prisoner, the guards

and the rest of the lot.

It’s time to reset the stage

Come out of the Prison - not just the cage

In a class of my own

A day in a class of my own.

I went running today. It was cold and I felt it.

I noticed the baby green and pink leaf

And was reminded of the tenderness of the tree protecting it.

As I stopped to say hello to the little black moth that randomly came and sat on my shoe.. I caught myself feeling care and admiration for the little ones courage.

In that moment as I looked up The blue of the sky softly dropped into a slightly deeper shade.

I saw a crow feeding off a dead rat by the road side and wondered if some parts of the rat became the food that kept the crow alive, humm.. did the rat really die??

And I remembered the plant in a large diesel store a few weeks ago that managed to turn all its leaves to face the door from where the sunlight came in, in anticipation., celebration.. maybe?

I ‘found’ a t-shirt left for me on my bed , that no one got, just when I really wanted it..I found out later that a couple of years ago I had bought it and forgotten. And ‘magically’ it resurfaced just when I needed it. Silly me.

I smile to myself as I take a deep breath and look up and for the briefest moment see everything almost like its the first time.

I leave and walk ahead.. with a little bit of the tenderness, the fresh new feeling, the courage, the wonder of death, a dollop of feeling silly and full of gratitude, of ‘Magic’, the willingness to move towards what is of value…stuck to me like fairy dust.

If there was a way to see it I am sure I had patches of green blue red shimmery gold…. black stuck to me. I looked different. I felt different

I ask myself where is this true in my life. There was no meaning ‘hidden’ anywhere..it was all right there. contemplation was just seeing that this is what I was seeing.. Nothing deeper. Lighter was somehow a new level of deep. The rest of my day would have shades of this lens perhaps…

And so I was the cause and I was the effect. I attracted and created experiences . They are not happening to me. I participate fully like I have in the past and future. Why, I don’t often know. and so ..I ask - how is this my creation. And what has the future wiser 2.0 version of me created this for ?

Karma for me therefore if no longer Cause and effect. But being the cause in the matter… I feel like the universe must feel ..

As I turn back..homewards , I marvel at how much I can learn from me..when I don’t run away from me.When I am not afraid of me. When I don’t make it about the 1.6 me.

I am the teacher and I am the student. I can only learn about me from me.

The Alchemy of Pain

I looked Searched. Everywhere.

Under the bed

Behind the curtain

Between the folds of your clothes

In the crack beneath the door

I even looked for it in the

Space between the wings of a dead moth.

I could not find it.

I looked at the sun, and then the moon

I squinted my eyes to see the pattern

And sometimes closed them

Trying to hold the image and somehow

Maybe push it to my heart to hold.

Nothing.

I looked

At the rings left by the tea cup

And in the texture of the crayon strokes

I was desperately trying

To understand

Your world.

I was looking

For perspectives.

That would help me connect

With you, With me

My search was beginning to get frantic

And it matched my rapid shallow breathing

That I had gotten into the habit of.

My stomach hurts from all this

I realize I need to slow down.

The piercing shaft of pain forces

My breathing to be slow..deliberate ..held

My feet to be on the ground more firmly.

And in this pain and through it

I began to see, finally.

And

Slowly.

I found it . Some unmistakeable traces of it.

In the least expected of places

Amidst the mess of the fights

In the chaos of ‘I’’s

Hidden In-between the silences

And tucked in the corner of the books

Reread with underlines

I could touch it.

With gratitude and gentleness

I could see, something

Which we still call

We.

I marvel at the gift of the pain

And the clarity it brings.

When the mind is forced

to come back to the body

and to this present moment.

The anatomy of pain , is still a mystery to me

But the alchemy

Is a gift.

I am grateful for.

Ode to the universe

For the 17th time

No

I am not arrogant .

I am not humble, you say

That is true.

I don’t think I have become that big, yet.

I may sometimes seem like that, though;

arrogant that is.

But that’s just me letting the universe handle my stuff

The Universe ..

Now IT is big.

and ;

It cannot help but;

be humble.

Hence you don’t see it

And see me

Get it?

Form

The ceaseless percussion of the rain

Drenching the curiosity

Shivering shadows trying to hold on, in vain

Conversations, and their Paucity .

A Pause amidst the quiet

A perspective hidden from sight.

The wind turned around

Falling in love with the puddles

Discerning where the past muddles

In the shadows the freedom from form,

found.

Rhea

Freedom

Freedom

Defined.

By design

Salve to an understanding

Freedom is caged.

Shackled by the slumber of doubt

Without faith

Freedom wastes away

Like the tepid water running out of a once fresh mango

Slowing turning the fruit into its own grave

Drowned.

Burdened by habits of thinking

Freedom waits

Like a puppet in the wings

For someone

To pull the strings.

Fear activated

It mimics life.

I am saddened by the victory

Of fear over freedom

Once again.

When will we be free to be free?

Rhea

Open

Do something daring

Like jumping from the skies

Diving with turtles

Or listening to your heart

Again.

Do something crazy

like colour your hair grey

Pack your bags and leave without a plan

or tell the truth.

Adventures are waiting in the wings

For you to tire out

Get drained, surrender

and then

be open.

Till

You begin the real one

Rhea

The Storm

He was a silent storm

With a beast in his head,

That stole his light right from him

And gave him dreams instead.

He dreamt of a world that wasn't, yet

And strived to make it so.

And the chaos of the storm strangely ,

Enabled him to flow.

She was a silent fighter

Who was always taught to share

So she held her breath when she was with him;

Just so he could have air.

She had to learn

To trust the storm,

To share of her strength;

and not from;

To breathe and not tame,

But ride the raging storm .

Rhea Dsouza

Ride to remember

It was one of those mornings when I was not in a mood for conversations. As I got into the rickshaw at Malad (my from destination)  and responded to the slightly raised eyebrow of the rickshaw driver with a, ‘Lokhandwala’.(to destination).  He got ready and moved into a straighter posture – good for him posture is very important I think, and I got comfortable and slid back into the seat for a peaceful time. 

Rickshaw rides often trigger my creative brain. My, ‘in the shower’- equivalent.

But Alas!! Whatever was going to appear in my head would have to wait. Because my driver suddenly felt like I needed company, and took it upon himself to offer that.

Madam ji, he started  - I know this tone that is not begging for conversations but is assertive in the most innocent ways where you cannot be rude - You said you want to go to lokhandwala.. 

yes I said.. You sure? Yes, I stated with a little more underline to the tone in case he thought I was unsure. He turned, slightly and said, much like Dhanno in Sholay or was it Basanti ?? ..I am always confused. Ah my creative brain is not dead. Yet!! I think. but back to my driver. “……My 108-year-old grandfather, who is still alive said it”.

I panicked. 
In my Sholay relapse  I had not heard what his grandfather said. I had a FOMO moment (Fear of Missing out) -  A little sheepishly I asked him to repeat feigning disbelief. (Ok. I am embarrassed a little).

He happily repeated. Now see madam, I asked you where you wanted to go, you said Lokhandwala (I was about to interrupt in exasperation - thinking of ...Basanti), but he quickly continued. Now, look at this. Since you knew where you had to go you could sit back relaxed in the seat and Listen to my story. But if if you did not know where you had to go. You would be sitting at the edge and constantly looking out of the rickshaw and your mind would be anxious and you would not be able to listen to what I was saying… so you see madam it’s really important to know where you are going in order to be present. To be Present one needs to know the destination

My mind had now gone quiet..there was a silence which drowned the cacophony of the busy Mumbai street. I was now alert and on the edge of my seat - wanting to hear more.. my curiosity and intuition have gotten the better of me -thank god.

What is your name (lame but at least I was demonstrating interest), Ramu he said after a brief pause, with so much dignity that it might as well have been Bahubali.. I mouthed the name Ramu.. making a a mental note of never to have name stereo types henceforth. Ramu. Ramu in most movies is the stupid servant.. This Ramu did not at all seem like that… 

ode to Shakespeare. What’s in a name..  Ooops!! I am drifting again.. 
Back to Ramu,

Ramu shared, his life story( I did not ask) -  he lived with his wife and two sons, dad and granddad. And that he was very happy.. 

‘Do you know why? Madam? “, he asked a rhetorical... I pause - not that I had the answer anyway - 
'Because, ... and then his voice took the tonality of a sermon, (Pravachan) – and he said something that made my head do some gymnastics. I pride myself in having a pretty agile mind, but even for me it took a few seconds,

Madam ji, he who is sad because of his own sadness is a happy man”. What do you mean, I asked - after 2 repeats of the sentence in my head (I needn’t have he was going to tell me anyway), I will now give you an example.

Ramu: My wife is very happy with what we have and what she has. But when our neighbour gets something new, she suddenly becomes unhappy with what we have. How come? I asked myself – Then I came to know, she Is not sad about her sadness; she is sad about others happiness. Therefore, if one can truly be sad just for his own sadness - is not in any comparison with the other and so, he is happy even if he is sad – mental gymnastics.

But after a few minutes of silence -  I was grateful for the sudden traffic, when Ramu had to maneuver and therefore could not speak. What Ramu said made a lot of sense. It felt like a penny drop… Silence once again…

I looked up after a while. I could hear the traffic once again. For once I was hoping my destination didn't come as quickly as I have often wished it to.  Ramu was not done. He shared with me how he never worries about money or prays to god for anything. I wait.. knowing the pattern now… 

Life situation..questions(mostly rhetorical) …sermon....me pondering in silence .

Back to Ramu..and the present.

Ramu: Now look madam!!.. when I was 3 months old my mother (may god bless her soul), used to take care of me like all mothers do.. quick glance at me and a smile. At 3 months the baby cannot talk, cannot ask for what he wants but still the mother knows what his needs are and she provides.

In the same way (sermon voice) –there is a BIG Mother, God - who we are all children of,.. knows what we need and when and how much we need it. So like the mother, if he anyway will take care why should I ask?? He knows what I need more than I do. So I don't pry I just go on doing my job. Take people to where they want to go...

deep breath time - Just keep on doing my job- Take people where they want to go.

Wow that made sense I think. Thinking of all the times I have prayed for something, not gotten it and a little later got something much better. God does know me better than I do. Mental note. Do not stress when you don't get what you want.

I was almost there. Ramu looks at me and says,  I am sorry if I have bored you by talking so much.. and I reassure him that this has been a very insightful ride in a long time. I thank him, pay (curb my urge to give him more money - something tells me he may not like it - after all wisdom cannot be  bought - and I am not his mother) and get off.

Ramu smiles and goes off… lost in the hundreds of other rickshawalas, readying to take another person to where  he/she wants to go. 

I stand there on the super busy lokhandwala street thinking what a gift this was.. how many such Ramus drive people from one place to another, and how many sermons and life lesson they may be holding.

In the crazy traffic I could so easily lose these precious conversations, being on the phone or annoyed at the honking…

I finally had the energy to move from that spot -  I could not shake off the feeling  that I travelled with an angel. 

This will certainly be a ride to remember.