Why Me? But then... Why not me?

Predictably, when first one receives an (unthinkable) cancer diagnosis or really any horrendous news, the initial reaction invariably is “Why me?” Doom-filled thoughts and emotions might crowd the mind and take over one’s life. One might feel wronged and singled out and sorry for oneself. It might seem as if life has turned against you and picked you as the victim of its worst caprice. 

Eventually, the passage of time tends to lend perspective. For every seemingly fortunate person, it seems there are as many that are afflicted with terrible misfortune. While one’s own tragedy never diminishes, the misfortune of others can sometimes be recognized as truly catastrophic. 

While a few happy people might live relatively carefree lives seemingly untouched by calamity, most of us will have it better than some and worse than others. That’s why the anguished and plaintive “Why me?” must logically be followed by the saner and more rational “Why not me?”

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/why-me-but-then-why-not-me

These Tracks Forgot Themselves

For two years, they ran smoothly on a parallel course - railway tracks traveling to a single end-point. Each strong and independent, but each relying on and validating the other. Both deeply inter-dependent until infinity, or till one might cease its journey and make the other redundant. 

Then, one day, the tracks forgot themselves and tried to meet. One veered toward the other and the other bent closer in response, foolishly forgetting that railway tracks don’t join. In a flash: the familiar became strange, the comfortable became uneasy and the strong became weak. In a moment, they lost their joint purpose and laid the ground for a train wreck...

What can be salvaged now? Can the steel recover? Or did it bend beyond its yield point? Will this track break down? Or can it straighten out and find again the measured distance it must keep? Will the pain eventually morph to sadness? Can the sadness pass or be forgotten? Will they find again the peace and harmony they have lost?

“Many people think excitement is happiness… but when you are excited you are not peaceful. True happiness is based on peace.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Happy New Year

This year, I will live by the Lunar calendar and celebrate the start of the new year today. I will remove January 2019 from my life. The page is torn from my calendar. It never existed. It is gone forever – taking with it all the ugliness and pain and suffering that this blighted month inflicted.

The new year has already started in the East, allowing us all another chance to start anew. I will celebrate it, along with the Chinese, as the beginning of Spring: the season of rebirth and revival and rejuvenation. I will wash my hair and cleanse my body and decontaminate my mind – rinse out the grime and drain away the toxic.

I will make way for beauty and grace and lightness to enter my life again, as I start my year afresh. I will extend invitations to house guests, make time for loved ones, create space for laughter and revel in the comfort of friends. I will repair what has been eroded, glory in being myself once more and find my own light.

“There is nothing more rare nor more beautiful than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.” ~ Steve Maraboli

The Language of Children

We had three children in the house. The Canadian siblings, 12-year old Dhruv and six-year old Sara, were meeting their cousin from India, 20-month old toddler Shaira, for the very first time.

Expectedly, each day was a circus of entertainment – lighthearted laughter interspersed with periodic tantrums and ready tears. Each little person had their individual characteristics and they bridged their differences in educative ways. They used their inherent negotiation skills and communicated in the unique language of children!

The usually taciturn and blasé Dhruv was ever ready to play the clown for Shaira: turning on her favorite nursery rhymes, amusing her in every way he knew and being ever the protective big brother. Sara vacillated between being the knowing elder sister (at bath time, ‘no missy, you can’t have the soap’) and sometimes regressed to babyhood when the new baby received too much attention. And then baby Shaira – she quickly became devoted to her older cousins, wandering about the house calling ‘Didi, didi!’ or asking plaintively ‘Where is Drewy?’.

It has been heart-warming to see the genuine affection that grew between these three children in just two short weeks. When the visit ended, good byes were said with heavy hearts before they left for distant corners of the globe. I know their time together has made a deep impression on each little mind. Video messages have been recorded and shared, names are constantly remembered, and inquiries periodically made. I like to think they have sown together the seeds of a deep and forever sibling love…

America's Leader

The leader of the most powerful country on earth has divided the world in two, using a scatological epithet to describe what he sees as the inferior part. If poor and colored are the criteria for lesser countries, then I come from one of these.

Six months ago, early in this presidency, I had the opportunity to meet Joe Biden, erstwhile US Vice President. In an anxious state of mind, I told him I was an immigrant and asked if I had made a mistake. His gracious words offered comfort to my troubled being. He said, “Thank you for choosing us”. And now this…

We choose this country because we admire what it stands for - inclusiveness and opportunity, freedom and fairness - all combining to create a safe environment of civility and dignity. This week, my chosen state has witnessed hate messages that are characteristic of the Nazis and the KKK. This leader has given sanction for the worst in America to surface once again.

I was born in a Hindu family and married a man with a white European father and a Muslim mother. Differences of country and color and creed have never defined the people in my world. But today I question my choice of home. Is this the place I want to live?

Their Story

Theirs was an unexpected and chance meeting. It was not a gradual growing together of like-minded persons, whose acquaintance may have started in the workplace or within a club – which might provide the comforting cushion of context. They came from vastly different worlds and diverse too were their circumstances and the events and experiences that shaped each one of them. One had been injured and hoped to heal again. The other had been long asleep and was ready to wake up. So they came together abruptly, in an awkward dance of muddled minds and confused bodies. They had a few things in common. They were synchronized and in harmony on some days, but uncoordinated and incompatible on others. Their haphazard collision culminated inevitably, in disintegration. 

But turbulence has been known to shift into tranquility and they could become fellow travelers adding meaning to each other's journey. They might be like the railway tracks, which travel together to a common destination but never join. Each track of tempered steel is strong and independent; yet both run together to carry a shared burden, each validates the other, and the two are inter-dependent in a unique and infinite way. After all, there is more than one kind of chemistry. Chemistry can create substances that corrode, or it might combine elements to ignite and explode, or it might be the alchemy that purifies and perfects. Theirs could become the alchemy that transforms lead to gold…

Bollywood Music

I imagine, it is hard for people to understand the role that music plays in Indian movies. (While our movies are made in almost as many Indian languages as there are Indian states, I speak really of Hindi cinema.) This music does not come as the signature background score we might hear in Western movies or by way of Hollywood-style musicals such as Moana or La La land!

Playback singing has always been an important part of Hindi movies, which typically have six or seven pre-recorded songs that the actors lip-sync for the cameras. The lyrics of these songs are thoughtfully constructed and frequently poetic. They advance the narrative and are set to carefully composed music. I think this music is part and parcel of one’s DNA, if one grew up in India or even if one’s parents grew up in India!

Filmi music permeates the subcontinent. It can be heard wafting from open windows on warm summer mornings and playing in bustling bazaars on balmy evenings. It runs as a common thread across the nation, connecting small town India with the busy metropolis. The housewife hums a popular tune as she goes about her chores, the delivery boy croons a favorite song as he pedals along on his bicycle and the paan (betel leaf) shop owner sings with the newest release playing on his transistor radio. My earliest memories include Hindi film melodies wafting through the house, from a boxy radio set to my mother’s favorite station. When television first entered our lives, the favorite show was Chitrahaar, featuring a half-hour of popular movie songs picturized in black and white!

Today, this music makes me nostalgic and I am drawn to it more than ever. Here, in distant America, Bollywood music is a touch of home. My ears love the words and the tunes and the sound of the Hindi language. A wonderful App allows me to listen and download and share the songs that strike a chord. This is more than just music and it is so pleasing that I can carry it with me; in my phone and in my heart and in my head.

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/bollywood-music/