The sparrow that chirps outside my window

Tiny little body, small beady eyes, and two tiny beaks that open and go tweet, tweet, tweeeeeet .... If my mind has been wandering, or worried or busy, this innocent little ditty from my feathered friend brings me instantly back to the present, fills the air with sweetness and my heart with gratitude.

Grateful indeed!

Boat rides amongst backwaters

This is entirely a nostalgia trip, perhaps owing to the fact that I am now in Kerala, surrounded by swaying coconuts palms and the smells of coconut oil cooking. It has taken me back to the days, when as kids, on our annual vacation spent in Kerala, we used to spend time at our maternal grandparents house, which curiously enough faced the river, and not the road. My father explained to us that this was due to the fact that there used to be times when Kerala had more waterways than roadways and travel up and down these serpentine twists and bends was prevalent. Most well-to-do families owned boats and employed oarsmen and the number of boats owned by a family was considered a status symbol.

So, my grandmother’s paternal home being better connected to ours (in those days) by river rather than by road, when the time came for us to visit, my grandfather brought his now-seldom-used boat out from its resting place amidst the river algae and bulrushes, attached a palm-leaf matted roof, summoned the oarsmen and off we went, on, what was to us city-bred kids, an exotic adventure.

It is said, that, to experience a place fully one must travel on foot, your whole being immersed in the place, travelling at a pace that is comfortable to you, savouring each experience in its fullness. Travelling in a car or bus boxes you in and offers only a rectangular view of the outside world somewhat like a TV screen, and it is a bother to stop and stare every time something demands your extra attention. Boat travel is a happy and fascinating middle path. Travelling at a pace that is at best languid, on a road that moves and flows constantly, browned by the sun, cooled by the breeze, catching glimpses of life being lived out along the riverside, and all your experiences tinged with that sharp, unique scent that the river exudes. As if, not content to just flow, it has to make deep inroads into memory and flow into them, so that whenever I open the pages of these memories, the scent of the river always wafts out, tantalising and captivating.

For us kids who didn’t know swimming, the dark blue-green depths of the water itself was a great source of fascination and my heart always started to pump the minute I stepped on to the boat. From then on, my mind worked as a camera, taking shots with every glance. The river that looked so placid from the bank, suddenly took on a frightening immensity, its waves conspiratorially lapping against the boat as if telling tales of things that happened under the placidly flowing surface, secrets it wants to share if only I could understand its language. The prow cutting effortlessly through the water, leaving behind a small wake that closes quickly and smoothly, showing us, if we would bother to look, the way to live.

Hands trailing the water savouring its molten, magical feel, keeping a lookout for water snakes of which I was terrified (until I found out only later that they were equally scared of humans and were totally without poison), I drank in the sights - kids gambolling, women washing, tradesmen plying - fish, vegetables, household items. Other travel parties passing us by, racing us till the next bend. And the ever-present benignancy of the coconut palms, lining the banks, blotting out the horizons, swaying delicately, sometimes leaning to touch the water, like green, tall, elegant guardian angels, showering us with blessings of safe journeying.

The things that floated by the boat were varied, but all had one thing in common - they had come to their watery grave, a grave that does not encompass, but is never ending and flowing and playfully carrying them around until their bodies melt and dissolve into its fluid body. Such an eco-friendly waste disposal system.

Looking back, it is fascinating to recall how much of a woman’s life was spent on the banks of rivers - washing clothes, utensils, kids, themselves, buying and selling, discarding waste, travelling - the river flowed through her life, an indispensable lifeline. No wonder whole civilisations flourished on the banks of rivers, unlike now, where the flow of money in banks determines flourishing.

Boat rides amongst the backwaters were once a way of life, now they are an exotic tourist attraction. Back then, the river was a member of the family, placid, playful, unpredictable, furious, cranky and yet loved, respected and indispensable. My heart bows with gratitude that at a time when the pace of life was much slower and my heart was innocent and open, I was able to ride upon its molten, shimmering body and partake in slivers of life along its green and verdant banks.

Coiled cornucopia

I pick the sticky, sweet-smelling spiral with my fingers and admire its shape, slender coils spiralling inwards and meeting up in the centre in a thick irregular mass, the coils translucent and shiny with promise. I place it between my teeth and try to bite, but I'm met with resistance, as if the coils do not want to give away their bounty. So I bite harder, persistent in my desire. This time the thin, fragile walls collapse and the ambriosa comes flowing out and coating my tongue with such honeyed sweetness that my eyes close by themselves in delirious pleasure. The next time I bring my teeth together the walls break down even further with a soft crunch as more liquid escapes the fragile walls. Moving, mingling, merging, into a melting mass of molten magic. As taste-buds fire in 1000W intensity, sending lightning flashes of epicurean joy to the brain which in turn orders my heart to dance in pure delight.


Now I am taking them one by one, off the plate, with my eyes shut, sticky fingers finding stickier coils by the mere pull of anticipated pleasure. I lose track of time and place until I am abrubtly brought back to the world when sticky fingers encounter only a sticky, empty plate. Eyes fly open to confirm the truth, and alas, it is so. I sit back and sigh satisfiedly, with just a hint of guilt as I think of the calories surging through my body. I put those thoughts aside and continue to bask in the glow of remembered happiness.


Grateful? Of course! To the person(s) who invented and passed on this culinary wonder down the years until it reached me and provided me with a delighful experience everytime :)

The soaring call

As I sit here, in this land dotted with mosques, every few hours, I hear the muezzin call. It begins low at first and then like an ocean swell that rises from somewhere deep, it quickly gains momentum and rises, a wall of sound fuelled by devotion, embodied with worship, and driven by longing.

And then a pause, dramatic in its abruptness, as if the wave was stopping to rally its forces. And then the call rising again, meandering through the pathways of the heart, wiping them clear of vestiges of doubt, filling them with love. Sweeping me along, climbing higher and higher, like as if it wanted to bridge the gap between earth and heaven, to dissolve the veil that seperates the two.

The final crescendo, knocking on those golden gates where the Spirit dwells, and then they open, those diaphanous doors, transporting me for some glorious moments into the presence of everything luminous, awe-inspiring, blessed.

Leaving me deeply and joyously grateful.

MOONLESS, STARRY NIGHTS

Why moonless? you might ask. Because the moon is such an attention-grabber, hanging there in the sky shining resplendently. On full moon nights, the moon looks so captivating, like a milky pearl, drenching everything in its dreamy light, that we fail to notice anything else. But imagine a night when there is no moon and no clouds either, then you will see the night decked out in all its diamond jewellery, some twinkling mischievously, some soft and benign, all precious pinpricks of light in the inky sky. The sight of the stars opens up our vision like nothing else, for isn’t that the universe over there spread out above us,  stretching towards infinity. Makes me feel like an insignificant, miniscule speck among the mind-boggling, glorious vastness of it all, instantly taking me out of my self-centred self and completely wiping out my arrogance.

It even gives a different perspective to the concept of time and of Now. For even as the light from the stars reaches our eyes, it has left its source many light years ago, and we can never know if the star that emitted the light still exists or has died as we are gazing at it, or moved from the position we think it is at. Reminds us that things are not as they appear to be, and perspective is only that, not necessarily the truth.

But most of all I am grateful for the fact that when I stand under the canopy of the jewelled sky and bask in the soft starlight, I am filled with such awe-filled joy, that I forget that I am a limited human with a body and mind, almost completely lose the sense of ‘I’, and I am transformed by the sense of vastness and infinity which arises within me and that which I intuitively know to be my real nature.

ILLNESS

Why would I be grateful for illness when just yesterday I was feeling grateful for good health. For precisely the reason stated earlier, that I take good health for granted, and unknowingly push my body beyond its limits, or abuse it in many ways. The biggest abuse I can give the mind-body mechanism is stress. Stress as we all know lowers the immune system like nothing else, allowing the host of germs that are attacking us at any given moment an easy entry into our system. Unresolved stress, in the form of painful issues tucked away out of sight due to our hectic lifestyles or constant low-pressure stress that we get used to, is unrelentingly chipping away at something or the other in our systems, only to surface years later as tumours, ulcers or chronic illnesses like hypertension, heart disease or diabetes.

Some years ago, after a tumour was removed from my spinal chord, I was keen to know how it was caused so as to prevent it from ever forming again. A spiritual healer said something that made me sit up and take notice. She said, ’do you realise that the tumour was found in your spinal column in the area right behind your heart? It seems as though for years you have been tucking away stuff too difficult to handle right behind and out-of-sight of your heart’. Some pretty loud wake-up bells went ringing!

Therefore, when I fall sick, I know it is time slow down and take stock of the factors that are non-conducive to my continued well-being and try to eliminate them. Illness, it seems to me, is Nature’s wake-up call. So when it comes, I am grateful, for I know I have not been kind to my habitat and it is time to take remedial measures.

GOOD HEALTH

Something I’ve taken for granted all along because good health is hard to notice and even harder to be grateful for until we fall sick. When I was a biology student I learnt that the human body is a masterpiece in design and engineering. In fact it is simply astounding the way it is all carefully crafted and wired together, and the interconnectedness, symbiotic relationships, the complexity, the brilliance of it all, is just mind-blowing. We create a machine with say ‘n’ number of parts and it fails to work or falls apart after some time. The engineering at the macro level and right down to the sub-cellular level in the body is so brilliant and so intricate, that not in a million years will we be able to replicate it. The whole mind-body machine is one well-oiled, superbly working mechanism. And yet we carry this loyal tool around without giving much thought to its upkeep, and blatantly abuse it with all kinds of toxic foods, thoughts and emotions, poor diet and hectic lifestyles, over-medication and under-exercise.

I had reason to think about all this lately when I went to visit a doctor for a throat infection. Curious chap he was, he had an instrument with which he poked me, sending some kinda waves through my body and the results of which he read on his instrument. He proclaimed that except for the infection and cold I was in excellent health considering my age :))) He went on to say that I don’t look as old as I am and that I have maintained my self well. I don’t know if that was a compliment or a medical statement but I briefly considered telling him about my two surgeries. But then I thought he must have meant that I don’t have any chronic illnesses that start to beset people of my age. Anyways, came away feeling very blessed and extremely grateful :)