The co-passengers

A long distance journey often entails a lot of acceptance with the unfamiliarity. The list of acceptance with the unfamiliarity lasts till the destination.

Encountering the long wait and initial melee at the platform, we finally boarded the train. The next inevitable was to check the luggage and the berth number. Finding everything at the place, we let ourselves stretch at our allotted space. Still in an emergency mode after battling the platform crowds, the bewildered conscious churned the next question- who were our co passengers? And my mind with aeronautical speed, started sorting out agreeable looking co-passengers amidst the chaotic crowd.

Then a queue of red shirted accomplished weight lifters of the Indian railway made their way through the crowd. They were stooping here and there to stuff heavy luggage beneath the berths. A big family, I speculated. I had least expected a group of slant eyed neighbors. The compartment then resounded with loud, oriental cacophony. My god, I thought, entire tangra (china town) in the compartment.

That initial hustle-bustle lasted for some time and then a few of them moved ahead to the next bogey. When the train jolted and slithered out of the platform, I found myself sharing the unclaimed lower side berth with two slant-eyed girls in their twenties. Hand bags, fat books, polythene bags stuffed with usables were all piled up on the seat behind their backs. A slant-eyed couple in their thirties was sharing the lower berth with my husband. We had confirmed tickets of a lower berth and an upper side berth in the bogey. Viewing the length of the journey, I contemplated an exchange of the berths to enjoy more flexibility in the allotted space. But that too seemed far from reality as conversation seemed to be a futile attempt over there. Only gestures had been ruling the place as viable options. To respite my fatigued self after a while, I decided to take the matter straight to the lady. To explain the option for berth exchange I pointed to the lower berth to her-“this berth is ours, which ones were you allotted?”

My proposal was reciprocated by her with an alarmed disposition. Her crimson cheeky face first fell a bit, then turned pale, probably being on an alien land. In anxious tones, she started explaining something undecipherable. My blank look first made her serious, then tense. Her growing anxiety was the only thing I was able to comprehend out of her soft, musical, oriental tone. We were timely rescued by her husband who came out of next bogey. It saved me too from the surging guilt I was accumulating by initiating something unsavory with someone. Her husband, a replica of equanimity, in his broken English smilingly explained that they had two confirmed tickets of the upper and lower berth. But the accompanying girls had unconfirmed tickets. With apprehensive foreigners I decided to drop the idea of berth exchange and be content with whatever we were allotted.

Their two unconfirmed tickets got assurance of confirmation by the T.T.E after a little past twelve. When I woke up in the morning, the two girls were sleeping peacefully on the lower and middle berth opposite to my husband’s berth.

During the journey, the gentle man would often shot a Buddha-sort of a smile to the co passengers, while the lady preferred to sleep almost the entire time. The bubbly girls either conversed euphorically or read English-learning books. Soon their peaceful auras were reigning the place. Everyone was reciprocating to their peaceful presence congenially. During the interaction, it transpired that the gentleman with his wife was an IT professional, and the two girls were university students. To break the monotony of the journey, several futile attempts at conversation had been undertaken. But the gasping constraints of language limited it all the while. Baffled with their limitations on the Queen’s language during the conversations, he found my English impressive. Chuckling with a monk-like innocence, he complimented me that with such a grasp on the language, I could teach even my husband. I nodded mischievously, glancing at my better accomplished hubby.

Their crimson, cheeks, puffy faces with narrow eyes, their unique way of eating food, even rice with chop sticks, amused us all the while. To carry on the conversation, I mentioned to them about my husband’s recent tour to China. I wanted to mention Shanghai, and about how he had been fascinated by the place. To this, he promptly mentioned that they were from South Korea. Their broken English and gentle demeanor won the heart of co passengers. It seemed hard, the way they were coping in India and that too in the South with just that scrap of English. But I felt that the most prominent and accepted global language is that of humility, in which they were masters. Even the constraints of language and the hindrance of expressions had been so obscured as peace and harmony made their way. They had no qualms in stacking or lifting the eaten trays of people sitting beside them. To create space, they put the shoes of their neighbors by their hands in a safe corner . Everything seemed united in that positive air. Most of the time during the conversation, the gestures and the aura of humility ruled the place. When we alighted at our respective destinations, our heart were filled with the full meaning of all those unexpressed words.

Blissful yours-The conscious

I,the mind is  an ingrained part of living beings. I rule the existence of human life yet i am the most unfamiliar and unacknowledged part of self in human life. Probably the high paced life of human being force them  to completey bury and forget me. But unfortunately the imposed apathy towards me drag the human life to down hill. And then it appear in them as mental  and physical maladies.

In life,denial of self and apathy towards mind create failed relationships, failure in careers, perennial dissatisfaction and in extreme cases, depression, mental and physical ailments. The list is long and really scary. Yet, the choice is yours to take care of me or not.

Whenever I chalk out the reasons behind my unreasonably forgotten self in human life, the modern ways of living and high-set expectations of society comes to the forefront. The norms set in today’s world is sometimes too high. And in persuits to reach the success create unreasonably stress. 

In today ‘s world, life is ruled with set deadline for work as the aim of life is to get fast bucks by any means. The yardstick of success is set  by society.

No reason that taking care of outside world only, the self sometimes completely forgotten.Taking care of self calls for awareness, to perceive between right and wrong and to  perform with sanctity is now not the way of life.Though in today's fast paced world it is still followed by very few. By most of the people taking care of mind tagged as a failed persuits as it viewef aspainfully slow and outcast mantra of life.

But do denial of self and awareness really work in life? What about the existing norms and set plateaus of success in today’s world? To really be with me requires courage and belief in self. At some point of time I may not seem to be working, or might be completely denied by your peer group, out of looming insecurities, or their way of achieving success.

But yet, I am your perennial blissful state: to be with me really needs a certain level of energy. You need to learn to be conscious to maintain enough level of energy despite investing in your energy in day to day commitments. That is why, now your new found focus needs to be shifted from the outside to inside. This means that throughout the day, just like a finance guru, one has to keep an honest and full account of the total expenditure, investment and return of energy level.

One needs to go a bit deeper in the self for finding the energy creation formula. This time tested formula still holds its magic. The eight-fold path of Buddha or the rules of Patanjali suits the best for the purpose. In this case, it does sound like the old, superstitious belief of old folks. If one has the energy to find the facts, experiment and then form their decisions, this is the ground work for blissful state. All of us long, throughout our lives for it.

 And few of us unfortunately tread on the wrong short cuts for happiness and get trapped in it. Yet, it is our life, so is the choice. Whatever will be the thought, so the action that will be followed by the outcome.

Serene silence- the poignant message

The softness of the child is the softest of all. Even their inability to express themselves sometime acts as a poignant language.
My doting daughter- a healthy child with glowing skin was about an year old at that time. On one occasion at my parents’ place, all of us were getting ready for a family outing. After getting ready my mother came to pick up something from the room. The moment she entered in the room, the dearest of her soul instantaneously opened her tiny arms with a divinely glow on her face. My mother got warmed up with the showered admiration and with pride, she clasped her lovingly close to her heart.
Being busy with the essentialities of her needs during the commute, I too chose to ignore the two loving souls together.
As the commute began, my velvety tiny tot was contently sitting in my mother’s lap beside me in our Fiat. I glanced at her with the familiar motherly instinct and she chuckled back at me. I moved my attention to my siblings and soon my attention got occupied with my siblings as we were busily discussing one thing after another. After a while my mother seemed a bit baffled, she was composing the child, altering her position on her lap. Then she interrupted our conversations and said, see, how every now and then, the starched border of my sari had been pinching my doll, she explained sadly.
As I drew my attention closer to watch the effect, I saw her tear filled eyes. But the moment she would catch the glances of mine, the evergreen bliss would bounce back on her face with the same charm.

Now she is an adult I still find her touch same. That instantaneous glow and velvety touch still exist with her but that poignant silence given way to dignified politeness of reason and logic.

That afternoon

On a sultry afternoon, my nap got disrupted by the cracking sound of wood. It did not take me long to chalk out the exact location of the mischief. The source of the noise was at the fence of our yard. Irritated with the disruption in my sleep, I got up and opened the door.


I found my speculations correct. A few children of the near-by basti were busily taking out the erected wooden poles out of the shrubby boundary of the yard, creating gaps to let in grazing animals inside the campus. The sight as well as the looming problems on my plantations filled me with instant rage. Furiously I shouted at them from the veranda. In seconds they vanished in air after sighting my frame.


Hearing the commotion, my daughter who was reclining with a book in next room, came out with an exasperated expression. Her expression mellowed me a bit. Composing myself further, I tried to reason with her- see, that day you had allowed them to pick up wood. Today they are daring to destroy the fence. Look at what they did to the fence. They are simply wild, I murmured.


The trouble involved in mending the fence and the sight of destroyed plantation irritated me further. With a painful look in her eyes, she told me, Mom, even they do not know the basics of good or bad and that is why they are wild. That is why they need our patient behavior and love. They need it most as there is no one to guide them. In that case they need a more sympathetic way to explain things in the right perspective.

Her peaceful and relaxed attitude did something to me. Something really sank inside my heart, paving the way to restructure my response while dealing with unsavory situations. There are always better ways to deal with life. And it always better to do it with a calm attitude. I decided to mend my ways to grow; after all learning comes from every side of life. Sometimes through the unexpected innocent velvety face who’s crowing I had once enjoyed and with time it had grasped the rules of good and bad with a strong platform of reasoning. So, I affirmed in agreement with my facilitator.

Ice-cream

The screeching halt of our vehicle on the road to the dam caught the attention of a ice-cream vendor standing over the embankment. As we stepped out with our teenager, the vendor, without failing to grab the prospective business moment, came forward to register his presence. A sweet sheepish smile broadened my girl’s lips. She walked past him with her dad ignoring the silent plea of ice-cream wala.


The times of yore flashed in front of me, when in her ritualistic annual affair of her report card collection day, she would accompany her dad. A natural champ of her age, she would hardly bother about the outcome of her academic commitments. But the day would always mean a great deal to her. Receiving the report card by the Principal’s hands with a few words of appreciation in front of school assembly were the most valued and cherished moments for her. It always acted as a catalyst to boost her self confidence for whole academic year. Sparkling pride of her eyes, I was able to catch as a mother even being at home.

But like most things life too tests us. One year, due to a health problem in the family, she was forced to skip an entire unit test leaving decimal scope of her ranking in the annual report card. She complied bravely to the necessaries and partook some added responsibility at home front. My little doll didn’t fail to oblige us.

On the D-day first time she did not seem to be her usual confident self. Though the crisis was receding steadily, the effect was yet to go. Starting the vehicle, her father signaled at her to come. With a bit of uncertainty she staggered towards me throwing a glance; I questioned her- what?

She hesitated for a moment and then with wide opened eyes she innocently asked- mama, if I won’t get the first rank in the class, will I not get an ice-cream today. Something inside me shook to the core. At any other time, I could have a good laugh on her silly question but now I felt responsible for her present plight. That moment I felt probably she was asked too much, much beyond her capacity, where she found herself unable to cope up with two things at a time: Her studies as well as providing a helping hand to parents’ problems. That time I was too not keeping in good health. Somehow I composed myself and in shaken voice, I mumbled- today also you will get your ice-cream.


My words worked as blessing for her that day, she alighted out of the vehicle with same spirit and sparkle in her eyes, flagging the report card in one hand and an ice-cream cup in the other.

With God’s grace, she completed her school days proudly walking out as a school topper. Still she has to plan, manage, and work on her hectic study schedule. Probably the hardship of achieving goals and a little mature outlook towards life has somewhere lightened her craving and temptation for her childhood favorite ice-cream or whether she really has grown out this silly temptation, I still have to find out.

Empty Nest or Distance Parenting

It is usually referred to by people as the empty nest syndrome when a child leaves home for higher education at a much happening place. And then the parents are viewed with sympathetic glances, deserving to be labeled as forlorn souls and with nothing to do at all. On the contrary when I entered into that phase of life, I found the entire scenario very challenging as it entailed a mature as well as precise participation of mine in my child’s life, really a calculated effort by which I had to guide as well monitor my child’s actions through motivation. For the first time in my life I realized that the presence of those values which I had imparted to her years ago were showing their results. It filled me with mixed reactions of awe and sometimes with indecisiveness. Though through the distance I monitored her sailing through the insecurities of daily affairs, taking care of her health, scheduling time for studies and committing to it, prioritizing the things and necessities of life.

After a certain stage exposure to real world and company to peers is most desirable thing in every child’s life. That makes our role as parents more crucial than ever, where we had to guide our child with few spoken words which we conveyed to her in a day. Therefore the conveyed words must match with actions of our life and worthy enough to be cherished. Instantaneously it shifts our position as a parent to a counsellor in the child’s life. Fortunately in this highly networked era of telecommunication, I often felt the heat of proving myself to be the best of the counsellor who aptly tele- counseled and unburden her off to accumulated strains of the day. It does really take great deal of mental strength to show your virtual presence in child’s life through your teaching, a real litmus test of parenting skills, is not it?

Now I feel that my task became more daunting with constant shift in my portfolios, from a mother to counsellor and then to best friend. Of course in today’s hi-tech world to handle a vibrant friend, that too of less than half of my age requires enough energy to carry on. Honestly I won’t hesitate to admit that this prettiest, bubbly thing occupies a large chunk of memory space in hard disk leaving no time to sulk and fret.

Being beautiful

What does it mean to be beautiful? Women usually answer this question with an instantaneous demure gleam in their eyes. But in this bipolar world, polarity does exist. I am one of the rare tribe of woman who has never bothered to look beautiful. The made up look, for inexplicable reasons failed to appeal me. I believe that most of the things in life arise out of a necessity, but I never in my life felt the necessity to look beautiful. Maybe it was because I was too busy playing a dutiful daughter to my parents, and then being an indispensable part of my conjugal life.

But it is rightly said that life is unpredictable. The opportunity of being crowned the most beautiful woman in the world fell so unexpectedly in my lap that I didn’t even react, rather preferred to enjoy it. After all, what is the point in counting mangoes on the tree, when a bucket-full was lying in front of me? This highest order of award was conferred upon me by the prettiest doll, i.e. my daughter. Since her birth, she would stare at me with the most charming and appealing of smiles, as if nothing in the world mattered, except her and me. She would prove it further by chuckling and throwing about her little, glowing hands and legs, as if she didn’t bother about anything around us.
Then she learned to speak, and one day described me to a visitor- “my mama is very beautiful and dark”. (My husband and in-laws are a marble-skinned lot, till then she had only learned to see things as black and white; if anything was not completely white, then she would figure out that it was black.) To reconcile with it, I too put my condition before her: if she described me as beautiful and dark, from then on she would have to add the adjective ‘tall’ to the description. She easily accepted the deal, placing her little palms on my lap (it’s an altogether different story that I’m only 5’2”, but it is always wise to take advantage of the circumstances).

But this glory of mine existed only for a few years. As a teenager, 5’5” tall herself, adoringly putting her arm around me, one day she said, “oh mama, you’re really beautiful…”(I can’t really say when she dropped the adjective ‘dark’ from my description after encountering different shades and hues of life), “…but how can you be…” and the rest of her words vanished in a good belly chuckle.

With time, the horizon of her learning increased, and with this came the delimiting of my glory. Now she watches Hollywood movies and to compound my woes, has silently included two more women in her list of the most beautiful : Angelina Jolie and Aishwarya Rai. Now I sensed mortal fear looming large over my position, but I was in no mood to budge from my place. After all, in all these years I too had got used to being beautiful, and now I couldn’t do without it. So I decided to take action before it was too late. No way, I told her, I don’t care about these two, but tell them to choose any position after me. After all, in India, will our politicians leave their chairs so easily? If not they, then why should I?