On KANYADAAN (or the giving away of the bride)

Spring had lasted long that year, I remember well, Mother dear

Long, long remained our delightful garden in full bloom

Summer fled past, then Autumn,

And winter came all too soon. 

Jubilant I was, for in my heady prime

Winter’s treachery, I could not define

In the warm winter afternoons,  

Star struck eyes only saw the blue skies, 

Felt the kiss of the Sun on virgin skin, 

And never dwelt, otherwise.

That winter, remember? 

When in marriage you gave me away

To blossom in another’s garden

You did say...

Mummy, why couldn’t I have remained? 

To blossom, or to wither

But remained in yours

Why must daughters be given away, Mummy, 

To enter another’s doors?

And to dwell therein 

And to make a home

Amidst callous strangers

We must call our own..

They do not let me grow roots

And undermine me all the time

And lest I should flower 

They have pruned me in my prime.

My hopes are dashed and spirits crushed,

My gentler feelings repulsed, want me to run away,

It pains, to stay.

All natural urges, persistent,

Yet thus firmly suppressed

Leave me scathed, wounded, 

recoiling further and distressed.

And once again, I wonder aloud

Is the bridal red, a woman’s shroud? 

When on that lonesome journey 

On that fateful day she embarks

Expected to survive alone

In a sea of hungry sharks.

With pirates for shipmates 

Gladly they’d throw her overboard-

The Captain, a one eyed crook

Professes to be her lord.

It befalls upon her to climb up the mast 

To any calamity to foresee, deal with it 

Learning the ropes, is only doing her duty.

Even then it’s a mighty favor

She’s lodged on the vessel afloat 

After all this endurance, endeavor cycle

She’s accused of rocking the boat.

Come summer sun, with its scorching heat

Or vicious winds blowing, that storms incite

Choppy seas, roughness all around

The stars shine sadly at night.

Both man and nature thus contrive

And injust treachery thus abound  

The moon rising high, comes and goes

Without protest, not making a sound.

In those quiet moments

The foolish girl gazes heavenwards

And her starry dreams revived

Keep her sane, as wearily she goes on 

That’s how so long she has survived.

The world is round, so they say

And where they started, they must meet 

Those she had left behind will come 

With fragrant flowers to welcome her and greet.

But till then it’s a long wait,

The captain says this is the way of life 

As they stand between sea and sky-

And good girls do as they are bid

They never complain, nor defy.

He tells her one must learn to face life’s facts,

And shows her the darkness of the night;

But Mummy, your little girl remains unchanged

She can see, only the stars, in the heavens shining bright.

Veenu Banga copyright 1982.

This is one of my other ‘Sunflowers.’ For the longest time, I couldn’t find it, and strangely enough I remembered enough of it to regenerate it so it has a sense of continuity, makes sense in the whole, reads the same, yet new. This is the original version. The other versions are written in the last couple of years, as I longed to find and revive this, give it a breather. The lines I wrote later to ‘complete’ this poem, made complete sense to me at the time, and seemed to fill in cracks that may have been missing. I hope to make the effort to find the additional verses, and unite them with their mothership. 

Veenu Banga copyright March 3, 2021

12:35 am.

Losing my Sangrinity

Enough of nostalgia in my last several posts. Sometimes the compulsion of the Present moment is so strong, it overpowers all sense of sensibility, decorum, and commonsense. In my defense, however, it was not all as it seemed, and here lies the story of how I lost my Sangrinity. 

After waking up to a sunny and sparkling New Year's day, Lisbon displayed a sullen hangover on January the 2nd. It was cold, cloudy, and overcast. All day. It was also the only day we had, to go to Belem, and we did. 

Belem offers a lot of outdoor activities. In better weather, the very things we did, would have added a different flavor to our enjoyment. I'm talking serious shopping at the outdoor markets, AND eating Pasteis de Nata with other sweet and savories, at two of the top-rated outlets that serve them, including at Pasteis de Belem, circa 1837, where the queue forms out the door because this place has purchased and uses the original secret recipe from the nuns who started the tradition of Portugal's famous, well, Pasteis de nata.

Now to the fiasco, that was my undoing. Continuing, however, in my defense, imagine being lucky enough, to get a rather last minute dinner reservation at a wildly popular, white table cloth restaurant. It is warm and welcoming inside, and after a cold, dreary day spent mostly outdoors, that in itself is a bit intoxicating because you let your guard down, or wait..was it my guard that let me down? Was it? Hmm...with deception involved, to a large degree? Yes, and it wasn't just with an apple, there was a whole lot of fruit involved. Very colorful too. Is there a Bollywood-Esqueness to this tale? Finding shelter from the rain..was it inevitable, albeit a different kind of seduction, with the loss of one's sangrinity? 

So here we were, our group was seated immediately on arrival, at the fine restaurant, while a crowd of hopefuls lingered around the entrance, within touching distance of the fine drizzle. 

Our server came immediately and one of our party, who had been here before, asked around to get a headcount for the restaurant's highly prized Sangria. Of course, yours truly, on finding out it was alcoholic, vehemently declined. 

Everything happened so quickly then. We feasted on crisp salad and complimentary house nibbles. The mains and the fruit-filled elegant decanter came almost together. The fragrant vase-like beverage holder with its easy to grasp slim neck was placed right by my side. Now, nothing comes between fresh fruit and this mama. I queerly regarded the astonished looks in my direction and paid little heed to the crestfallen faces as more and more of the delicious white liquid fell into my glass, in my earnest attempts to get the fruit to oblige and budge. It was so very good, mmmm! The deliciousness of all the fruits- the kiwis, pineapple, grapes, mango, strawberries, and everything else with it, was so much subtler, and gentler and sweeter, for being soaked in the smoothness of whatever it was. I kept dunking more and more in my glass, and the liquid was just uncontrollable!

Soon the accusatory looks cast in my direction bordered on alarm. I think I may have realized that it was the famed sangria that I was chugging down, but everyone else, unlike me, mindful of their dining etiquette, made me doubt I could be so rude. I couldn't, now...could I? Was it the alcohol, with its sweet deception, disguised in a jar laden with fruit that compelled me, on that disquieting rainy night? Or was it something more mundane, like an innocent longing for the fresh fruit? I will never really know, except on that rainy night, at a hugely popular restaurant in Lisbon, this is how I lost my sangrinity.

(From a draft waiting to be finalized, since January). 

The Gifts we can give to ourselves

For the past several weeks, the Evening star, Venus has been shining very brightly in the western sky. It has shifted positions slightly, but the intensity of its brightness has not diminished, instead it's grown, and the star looks bigger and brighter.

Today, for some reason I couldn't find it, even as many, many other less shinier stars were everywhere. I guess it's new position, from where I stand, is behind some trees? Anyway, going out into the night I did see the full moon, and gazed at it, delighting and celebrating it brightness. It also reminded me that in all fairness, it was uniting me with rest of humanity as it shone brightly all across the skies, and over the rest of the world! We were all compartmentalized by this powerful force, irrespective of gender, creed, color, size of house or political affiliation, as one species on this planet, impacted by the very moon, no matter where are. Even the oceans dance to its orchestration. The moon controls the tides of our times.

Had my mother been alive today, she would have called to wish me, on this Buddha Purnima, my Lunar birthday, which was today, 7th May, this year. She always celebrated my birthday by doing some charitable deeds, mainly feeding the poor and giving of alms. My day was interesting, having tumbled over from midnight, as I sat awake, in those very early hours, reading, well past my bedtime.

For a while now, I had been getting this one phrase in my mind, and from that a thought. Suddenly, this picture comes into my head, along with this one sentence, which I thought had a special sweetness to it. All I wanted to do was just write that down, because later I can forget easily, as the unfolding days of our lives engulf us in the demands of what we call living. That's when the magic happened.

The words just poured out and they painted a whole scenario of events, and I was witness to it. The story unfolded faster than I could write. I remember walking up to see pen in hand poised to write, and my eyes groggy head nodding half in obedience and half in defiance. It was finally in the last paragraph when the new title of the story revealed itself, First Words. The time was 3:15 am. I was very pleased that I persevered and completed the short story in the first sitting. That was a Gift to myself, on this, my Lunar birthday.

Hopefully, it will be unveiled tomorrow.

From a Facebook memory, of April 29, 2019

Who would have thought a year later from this day described below, this fun-filled glorious evening in the company of friends, we would be observing 'social distancing', and would no longer have the pleasures of sitting together asking a stranger to take our photo. Talk about living in the moment, I think that day, all three of us, truly did. We enjoyed ourselves and very much lived the fun, the camaraderie, and the laughter, which at times grew hysterical and interspersed with unstoppable giggling!

One wonders how long it will be before we can sit together again, like this! 

Veenu Banga

April 30, 2019. 

With Susan and Madeline at Cranes Roost. We watched the sunset from this spot. This was my mum’s favourite place to walk and feed the fish and the turtles. 

We also had a nice walk, fun, laughter, and music. They play piped music in the Park, and I was telling them how I used to enjoy the Boy Bands when they were popular and one of my mum’s favorite songs, that she would sing along with (yes, Boy Band music) and good, wonderful, noble Susan said, “Which band? Are they a Christian Band?” So I played a song sung by a Christian band for her that she had never heard before. It was Sixpence None the Richer’s KISS Me! Yes, I was being naughty. And I conveniently handed her my phone to hold as we walked and talked and laughed! 

Then it was Susan’s turn to choose her song. She chose “Oakie from Muskogee”. It sure was lovely and reminded me of the country music I liked! That’s Susan, 100% gold, pure of spirit and intention. Good, Kind, caring, wonderful friend! 

Then it was time for Madeline to choose, and she’s the exact opposite of Susan, which is why we all get along so well. She speaks her mind, minces no words, the Beauty Queen 👸 part of her youth is still well and roaring inside of her, and she said something which I can’t exactly recall, but basically that I can choose a song for her! So I continued to be naughty, (I guess the naughty girl-child inside of me has resurfaced again or possibly was just hidden under loads of rubbish that accumulates with life and should not be allowed to in the first place) so I chose something that as a teenager I always thought quite scandalous. To be true to Madeline’s British roots I chose “ Where do you go to my lovely” sung by a Brit! Her reaction, “Oh yes! I like that!!”

Who says we can’t have fun at ‘our’ age?! 

"Shivoham, Shivoham": another facet of Maha Shivratri

Time has flown by so fast. Another Maha Shivratri is upon us, this one without the woman, who for me is synonymous with Maha Shivratri. Dearest, precious, beloved and most respected, dearly departed, Dr. Shailaja Nadkarni. 

For the first time since the Prana Pratishtha/ consecration of the Deity of Lord Shiva in His house at Kaivalya, Shalajaji will not be officiating the ceremony. It is painful enough to think about it, so perhaps it's just as well, that I am far away across the oceans; yet not quite removed from it. 

It was Shalajaji who swept us into the Chinmaya fold, as she did anyone so inclined and whose paths crossed with hers. Her love for and devotion to the cause of her beloved Swamiji, accelerated the significance of the Mission on the Orlando landscape. While the congregation rose in numbers, it was the spiritual rising of its members that would not have been, but for her loving guidance, persistence, and compassionate leadership. 

For so many of us, and I shamefully speak for myself, who is so far removed from organized religion, Shailajaji was an emancipator of lost souls. Like acorns we lay on the forest floor, buried underneath the debris of mindless distractions, oblivious of that shaft of life-giving sunlight beyond the canopy of the trees. Shailajaji came with her caring, and peeled away the restraints of ignorance, directing us towards the pursuit of enlightenment. 

Beyond the chanting, and beyond the fasting, beyond the rituals, lies a deeply embedded truth about the nature of the true and holy relationship of our souls with Shiva, and which we consistently overlook. It is expressed in Adi Shankaracharya's Nirvana Shatakam. Before we can celebrate anyone or anything, should we not know who we are, and strive to live that truth? 

We each have to read it, sing it and meditate upon it, for our enrichment. This is my way of celebrating Maha Shivratri this year. Striving to be worthy of reciting, "Shivoham, Shivoham."

Resources:

1) According to the website, Mahakatha.com, (https://mahakatha.com/nirvana-shatakam-mantra/) "Adi Shankaracharya's Nirvana Shatakam is an ode to Lord Shiva." The transliterated lyrics with explanations are available at the link. 

2) There is another version here: (http://stotrarathna.blogspot.com/2009/07/adhi-shankaras-nirvana-shatkam.html) which I find more endearing. More endearing because the story behind it is more challenging, the kind that will make us grow. It is from PR Ramachander's translation, who writes, "There is a story that one of his disciples started saying Shivoham like the Acharya without understanding its significance. The Acharya visited the black smith’s house and happily drank one tumbler of molten iron and ordered the disciple to do so. Naturally he was not able to it. The Acharya told him that as for himself the molten iron or ice cold water are not different because he has realized that he is no different from Lord Shiva, and till the disciple attains that state, there is no point in his repeating Shivoham i.e “I am Shiva”

Mano budhya ahankara chithaa ninaham,

Na cha srothra jihwe na cha graana nethrer,

Na cha vyoma bhoomir na thejo na vayu,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 1

Neither am I mind, nor intelligence ,

Nor ego, nor thought,

Nor am I ears or the tongue or the nose or the eyes,

Nor am I earth or sky or air or the light,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva.

Na cha praana samgno na vai pancha vaayur,

Na vaa saptha dhathur na va pancha kosa,

Na vak pani padam na chopa stha payu,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 2

Neither am I the movement due to life,

Nor am I the five airs, nor am I the seven elements,

Nor am I the five internal organs,

Nor am I voice or hands or feet or other organs,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na me dwesha raghou na me lobha mohou,

Madho naiva me naiva matsarya bhava,

Na dharmo na cha artha na kamo na moksha,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 3

I never do have enmity or friendship,

Neither do I have vigour nor feeling of competition,

Neither do I have assets, or money or passion or salvation,

But I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na punyam na paapam na soukhyam na dukham,

Na manthro na theertham na veda na yagna,

Aham bhojanam naiva bhojyam na bhoktha,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 4

Never do I have good deeds or sins or pleasure or sorrow,

Neither do I have holy chants or holy water or holy books or fire sacrifice,

I am neither food or the consumer who consumes food,

As I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Na mruthyur na sankha na me jathi bhedha,

Pitha naiva me naiva matha na janma,

Na bhandhur na mithram gurur naiva sishya,

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 5

I do not have death or doubts or distinction of caste,

I do not have either father or mother or even birth,

And I do not have relations or friends or teacher or students,

As I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Aham nirvi kalpi nirakara roopi,

Vibhuthwascha sarvathra sarvendriyanaam,

Na cha sangatham naiva mukthir na meya

Chidananada Roopa Shivoham, Shivoham. 6

I am one without doubts , I am without form,

Due to knowledge I do not have any relation with my organs,

And I am always redeemed,

And I am Shiva the all pervading happiness,

Yes ,I am definitely Shiva

Posted by Raja Thatha at 5:35 PM  

My Grandfather's boats

It was a short walk to the boats. Down the hill, around the bend and the river would rise to meet the eye. The rest of the way was ours to traverse. Sometimes we did, often we did not. But contact was made every time, every time we walked to the river, there was conversation.

Often we sat together on the sloping hillside, watching the river carry away the boats. Holding hands sometimes to steady myself on the incline I would let go of his secure grasp only after we had sat down. Then he would do what he did best, put his hand across my shoulder and talk to me. It was a feeling I have since wanted to recreate. I never wondered where they went.

We all go down the river of life, on our own adventures. We carry our memories with us, as fuel and for sustenance. 

OCTOBER 16, 2019

At around this time of day, on this date, four years ago, all that remained of her was a heap of possibly still warm ashes. I was not there to witness the raging fire hungrily consume her, nor see her smouldering remains. If anything, I would have very much liked to be there by her side, in those last few moments before her ashes turned cold. She did not like being alone, especially as she grew older.

When this day comes around again, nothing can offer any solace to the longing that consumes my aching, sorrowful heart. It feels so hollow, yet is so filled with her memories, that while I am mournful, it is bereft of sadness because there is so much to celebrate about her life. My dear precious Mother. Four years later the tears flow, as they have not done since the day she passed. For some bizarre reason, four years later, I still draw a blank when it comes to her date. Till last year, I was confusing the month between September and October, and still mix up the date between the 14th, 15th, and 16th of October. I have to ask family members in India, and did so again this year. When will closure come, does it, ever?

Woke up this morning with strange dreams, and almost immediately remembered what day it was. Had an uneventful most of the day, and left early for my 3:00 pm with JoAnn. After my appointment, while it was still early, I put in a few places in Google Maps, to knock off a few errands pending from earlier in the week. Then decided instead, to just go home.

The car, however, drove me to Cranes Roost Park. The same car that took her to the airport as she departed from here, after her last visit to America. That day, if I could live it again would be vastly different. I was distracted and disorganized. Sweet Susan saved the day. If I had any sense my days with her would have been different, and I would not have let her go.

Cranes Roost Park was my mother's favorite place in all of Florida, and it is one of mine as well. It is a huge man-made lake with a walking path around it, and at one end, there are gardens with a musical fountain in the center which puts on a light and music show on the hour in the evenings.

My mother was an enthusiastic walker and Cranes Roost afforded her that delight, and then some. She loved watching the turtles and the huge fish jump out of the water as they jostled with each other and the turtles to catch the bread or other food directly in their mouths before it could hit the water. The walkers and joggers and other people, in general, kept the fish and the turtles well fed, delighting in this unorchestrated aquatic show.

Mummy discovered Cranes Roost on her visit in 1997. She made it a sacred routine to go there every day at the crack of dawn to welcome the sun as it rose in the pale blue Florida sky, breaking the cool spell of the night, and ushering in the humidity which coupled with the heat is elemental to Central Florida living.

I remembered Mummy had made friends with a Senior couple who lived in the 55+ Community next to our apartments. They took her to the Winter Park Chamberlins Health Food store, (now an REI) by bus, and she was so stoked about it. She came and told us how the bus left from outside the Sears (now closed) in the Mall, and it cost just 50 cents and her friends had very kindly paid for her fare. The couple went every week, and Mummy frequently went with them, sometimes to the smaller Chamberlins in Altamonte which is still there, and when I visit, I am often reminded of her.

I was thinking of Mummy, as I walked around the lake today. Mulling over her favorite memories, the stories she liked to tell most, and the things she did, the people she loved, and her strength in the face of harsh adversity. Every step I took at Cranes Roost, was deliberate and with meaning. Twice it rained. I was getting wet, but luckily I had the hat to protect me. Twice I paused to let the rain pass, sitting once on one of the black metal benches under one of the 'tents' along the walking path when it goes over the water. She perhaps sat here too, when maybe it rained on one of her walks or was it the sky paying homage in memoriam?

As if on cue, the sky suddenly blazed a rich yellow. The sun hung low and it shone very brightly, suddenly looking bigger on its way down. I saw the Sun as it set, on this, her day. It made a spectacular show of the skyline, as it headed off to rise in India, where its rays will fall on the ground upon which my mother became ashes, dust to dust, on the land where she lived, and worked and walked, and fed the birds and talked to the trees, and went on pilgrimages, and rejoiced. The sun has risen on a new day in India, the beginning of another year from the date of her passing. My dear precious, beloved mother. She was my mother, she was my father, and she was my Rock.

As I was leaving Cranes Roost, I saw a mother-daughter with arms interlocked, and I was reminded of my time with Mummy when as a teenager, I waited for her to come home from work, and we took our dog for a walk in the evening. On my approach to SR 436, I saw the bus pullout from the same spot where she would have taken it. Small coincidences, or little signs that tell me she lives on in me, in memory and in all I am and all I do. It is of little comfort. It is also a big reminder to live in the moment and to cherish every bit of the present. To be grateful for being loved so much, that when the bestower of that love is gone forever, your heart breaks like nothing else even matters, even though intellectually you know that this too shall pass, and you will be reminded you are the richer for having been loved. After all, where else do we learn how to love?

And so it goes, four years have passed, gone by effortlessly, as life goes on. I came home and sat on 'her' bed. Her pictures are still up in 'her' room. Her paintings adorn the walls of my house. I miss you, Mummy. Thank you for being my mum. I miss you every day.

Your ever loving daughter,
Veenu


Text and photos Copyright Veenu Banga 10/16/2019

Sunset at Cranes Roost Park on 10/16/2019

Portion of the walkway around the Lake 

The sky after the Sunset on 10/16/2019. The Altamonte water tower enjoying a great view. 

The ducks calling it a day

Another view

The lights come on

A closer view

Another day to be grateful for, a day lived in health and gratitude for much that we are given.