Story of the Wind Chimes

Few things are as pleasing as the mellow music played by gentle breezes on carefully crafted wind chimes. Oriental cultures believe these delicate bells, with their eclectic sounds, bring luck and prosperity. And then: my intricate copper wind chimes were artistically carved by the Tibetan monks at Norbulingka Monastery in Dharamsala, Himalayan home of the Dalai Lama for nearly 60 years.

Very early in the new millennium I travelled with my parents to Dharamsala, our last mountain holiday before Dad’s health limited road travel to distant places. We stayed at a little hotel in picture-perfect Naddi (their L-shaped room had a corner for my very small bed and a very large window with a breathtaking mountain view – a coin dropped out that window would fall in a valley hundreds of feet below!). It was then we visited Norbulingka and I acquired these wind chimes that never failed to lift my spirits even as they reminded me of our last, and most precious, excursion.

In the past 15 years I have changed six homes across three cities and these wind chimes have hung in every abode: harnessing pleasant breezes off the Arabian Sea in Mumbai, capturing cool autumn gusts in St. Louis and adorning wide, flowerpot-laden, balconies in Delhi. I moved to a DC flat last year and for the first time my wind chimes were relegated to a drawer. There was simply nowhere I could hang them… till last week. Last week these valued chimes became a present to adorn the newly purchased home of a dear friend – a most apt place for these benevolent bells to deliver their auspicious blessings.

As I hung up the wind chimes on a sunrise-facing patio, I knew the Atlantic breezes would soon come to play with them. Just for a moment, I was torn between the desire to hold on to something so precious and the knowledge that my beloved wind chimes needed to be where they would experience the breeze again. Everything (and every being) deserves an environment that will let it be what it is meant to be. Even more, it deserves an environment where it is pushed to become the best that it can be…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/story-of-the-wind-chimes/

Outdoor Spaces

The thing I like best about America is her outdoor spaces. I love that one can walk along the street and not be jostled by crowds. I love that one can hike on mountain trails or stroll in city parks and not see another person for extended periods of time. Above all, I love that there are so many seasons when one can curl up with a favorite book along a river bank or in a shaded glade or on a private deck.

While I loved living in the vibrancy of India – with its color and chaos and crowds – it is only in the very high Himalaya that I enjoyed the true solitude of nature! There are few, if any, outdoor spaces on the sub-continent where one can look around and not see another living being. The overcrowding is becoming compounded by growing pollution, a deterrent even for the more determined outdoors lover. And then there is the punishing climate: long hot dry summers and brief intense winters, marked increasingly by a pall of smog.

Much of my time in DC is spent under the sky and walking has become a way of life. I walk most frequently to the metro, but I also walk to the grocery store, the chemist, the bank, the doctor, the dentist and even the DMV! I walk on cool Spring mornings and balmy Summer evenings and golden Autumn days and chilly Winter afternoons. Undoubtedly, I have become a walkaholic, never tiring of the river bank, the fresh air and the verdant spaces around me…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/outdoor-spaces/

Complex Families

We had two sets of paternal grandparents. Our father (one among three brothers and three sisters) was a beloved child given in adoption to a neighborhood couple! Apparently, his biological father was moved by the plight of a childless neighbor and generously offered up his eldest son – I don’t think the women in the two households were consulted at all! In the early days, he enjoyed two pairs of loving parents, eating and sleeping where he pleased and being particularly pampered as a new and only child in his new home. He continued to associate with his siblings till he shifted with his adoptive parents, to a town less than 50 miles away.

As an only child (in a manner of speaking), dad likely enjoyed some material advantage over his siblings. Eventually, his marriage was arranged with another only child and they became parents to us – four boys and a girl. Our unusual history meant we siblings were not really linked with our aunts, uncles and cousins, though we met them at family events. As a result, we have always been deeply connected among ourselves and form a safe place for each other, even more so after the passing of our parents. Our 11 children (and their spouses) are mostly close-knit despite large distances. Our 11 grandchildren are growing quickly and will they stay in touch as their numbers increase? In any family tree, each subsequent generation grows further from the center – just as spreading branches constantly sprout new shoots and grow more distant from the rooted tree trunk.

I also see it as my role to stay attached with my husband’s siblings, ensuring my children are linked to his family as they are to mine… is this an Indian thing? Today, an Indian friend was describing how they stay bonded as a family, successfully using technology and planning periodic reunions. While births and deaths and weddings will always play a part in bringing families together and strengthening relationships, even across vast distances, should we play more active or affirmative roles? Conversely, is it unrealistic to expect our children and their children to divert energy from the business of growing independence and new alliances, in order to strengthen ties to their roots? I expect the answer, as in most things, is to find a balance…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/complex-families/

Inseparable

I just read the story of a Chicago couple dying within an hour of each other, after being married 69 years. Teresa died at 12:10 a.m. aged 89, while her husband, 91-year-old Isaac, died at 12:50 a.m.They were holding hands when she passed away and he stopped breathing when family members separated the couple’s fingers. According to their daughter, her parents’ “love for each other was so strong they simply could not live without each other.”

I knew such a couple, married 59 years. Our father’s passing filled us all with grief, but our loss was nothing as compared to our mother’s pain. In the year she lived without him, she did what she needed to do, but her core was extinguished; her spirit snuffed out. She grew frail each day and felt betrayed that he had left her. She spoke often of joining him.

I was present as she spoke to the psychiatrist (we feared she was depressed and set up the appointment against her will) and learned things I had not known before. On quiet nights, they talked about the end: the unlikelihood of going together; the assurance that the first to go would wait for the other; the agreement that the survivor would stay in their own home. Ma called it thikaana – a Hindi word that translates as fixed abode, for the body but perhaps also for the spirit. The doctor asked her if she felt alone and she said simply, “I am not alone. He is here with me”.

She departed one year after him and she was ready to go. We all felt sadness at her passing, but I knew she was finally where she wanted to be – rejoined with him in an afterlife. One can’t but envy what they had. Perhaps, they have it still…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/inseparable/