She says that having courage does not mean that we are unafraid.
Having courage means that we have faced our fears. We are able to say “I have fallen but I will get up”. As she
listens to these words of wisdom, tears choke up her throat. There is a
her-story ( not history) that lies behind the choke felt in the throat.
Thinking of the days where she had struggled, alone, brings immense pain. Every
day was about fighting with the weak spirits, a tornado, tugging on the door
and thrashing on the window pain, of a room she called her ‘home’. Every night,
the waters of anguish would get dried on the pillow she would try to rest on.
The next morning, cloaked in the colors of her clothes, she would stride, to
face the dreariness and the new-ness that the day would bring along. There were
some days which would teach her so much about the pain of others that her fears
seemed like a tiny ant in front of an elephant. Each day she tried to be
grateful for things she had and people she met. There were days she would be so
absorbed by the cacophony of existential questions, that the thought of leaving
the life offered more solace than finding the answers. But she knew that life
was a gift, that no matter how much she cursed and berated herself, there were
parts of her which she loved. The only difference was that she had stopped
loving herself. Life had become a never ending struggle of proving her worth to
people around. Faith and Hope had become her long lost friends. In
the midst of all this, she continued to rise. She had heard someone say “Fall
down seven times, stand up eight”. In fact she had become habitual of standing
up so much that she lost the count.
Today the struggle
continues. With-in self. There are a million tug of wars that have churned out
threads of this ball of heart. The mind is rest-less. Peace is yearned for. At
times she wonders “Does peace feels peaceful enough? Or is it just our
projection of how peace is synonymous to bliss?” Life never stops; volcanoes
shall erupt, waters shall rise and earth shall split, yet life shall continue…..Till
when? She asks…….
A whisper says“You may not control all the events that
happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them”
With tears streaming
down her face she said “ I’ll try” as she always did…………
P.S: The lines in italics
in the beginning and at the end have been said by Maya Angelou.
The wick of the candle
has been burning. It’s been 3 months since it was lit. To the eye that looks at
the wax that has melted the weight of the wait, it feels nothing less than pain
morphing itself into solid water.
The other day the
heavens roared in anger. They shouted at the clouds “Can’t you see her?
Carrying on, with hiccups in her throat, and words in her mouth, unable to say
what she truly feels?.....Go, travel the oceans and cease the distance!” She
looked up at the lightening, scared, melting away, as the days passed.
The breeze would carry his conversations,
mixed with grains of sand, fragrances of the other land and the saltiness of
the waters. The other day, when she found herself staring at her reflection,
she melted like there was no tomorrow. The moon winced in pain. The wax told
her to hold on, for what if there was no more left to melt? She gathered
herself, flickered for few moments. And began to burn herself again…..and again….and
again….for there was someone burning too.
fond of Mitch Albom now. He befriended me one fine day as I was surfing through
Amazon. He just came by and flashed himself by offering me faith, just when I
needed. I spent some good days with him, soaking in all that he had
experienced, only to see me start walking on my experiential journey. I
gathered faith, through essence and in spirit. I think the beauty of special
friends is that you keep re-visiting them, even if it seems like eternities
passed between you and them. Every meeting is like a beautiful chapter, written
in conversations, added to the book of life. If this metaphor was to come true
any day, I would randomly open a page and start reminiscing along the pages.
Few days back Mitch
called me. He knew Buddhism is what I had found my calling in. Funny, isn’t it?
After all these years of wait and wonder for a Guru I could believe in, I found
that the faith was no where outside but with-in me. I could see the power of
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo reach my soul, cleansing my spirit with every chant. He
asked me to spend some time with his favourite teacher and coach Morrie. I was
all for it. Pages after pages wisdom overflowed, making me think of the person
I have been, the values I stand for, the culture that imposes itself on me and
the love I feel for my loved ones. All through this journey, not once Mitch
conversed with me and yet he did. He let me in his world of ‘lessons learnt’
with Morrie. When people are so beautiful inside you are head over heels in
love with them. Isn’t it? Ah! I’m glad to have fallen in love with such people
in my life!
There’s something I
feel going up and down inside my chest. I don’t know what it is. My spirit or
the warm fuzzy afterglow of Tuesdays with Morrie?
A memory: The other day
I shared with my brother that I’m working on publishing something these days.
He said “I hope not
fiction or something like Do this, do that?”
“You mean self help books?”
“Oh! Not at all”
“Haha! Cum’on I know
I’m not good at writing fiction. All I want is my book of poems to get
P.S: I purposely didn’t
add “book review” in the title. A book so sacred as this one deserves beautiful
words, not clichéd ones!