A new day, a new year.

 While the world made a lot of noise, the earth quietly spun on its axis, and ushered in a new year, in human years. A new day, every day, all in a day’s work. Nature worked its magic and everything it controls changed. Humans, we were just the same, as always. Same old, same old good, bad and ugly, bright, beautiful, kind, wise, foolish, in love, out of love, and never learning the real meaning of what it means to be on this earth, that we are on a journey, and the earth, the moon, and the stars and the life giving Sun are the masters and they’re in control. Not us. 

I look back today on the year that has gone by, because today I am the sum of days past. The whole unfolded to divine design, the tides ebbed and flowed, the birds sang, the trees did their thing, the sun rose to a new day, somewhere a bud opened, petal by petal and become a flower, and I think I came of age. Time will tell. As the days unfold I will know whether lessons were really learned. 

While I have made no real resolutions for the new year, I have tried to be mindful and sensitive to everything around me today. Mindfulness in thought, word and deed. Mindfulness, even as I ate. 

I would like to pat myself on the back for writing almost every day in December, as planned. Expressing gratitude made it easy. Like having one other good thing to love for, live well. However, on the writing front, still leaves much to be desired. The short stories that have been incubating inside me are going to wither if I don’t act soon. My daily needs are not many, the distractions are. They are saboteurs and seducers, and do their thing without chocolate. Not everyone needs chocolates or flowers to be wooed. The sky will do it for me. 

This year I’m richer, having been gifted the wealth of the two nuns who came into my life and decorated it with their wisdoms that just seemed to penetrate my core. I come into the new year, with that wealth of having found myself, and discovering my reserves were well and in tact. That’s a wonderful thing to be thankful for! 

Veenu

01/01/ 2022

12:00 am

He’s got the whole world in His hands!

 This morning, if someone were to ask me what our plans were for this New Year’s Eve, I wouldn’t know what my response would have been. We are just grateful to be together this year. There’s so much catching up to do. All the big and the small and mundane stuff. Besides with all the restrictions and caution advised, any plans would likely be without much fanfare. A privately held celebration of sorts, celebrating togetherness.

The last few days have been fleeting fast, and I’m mixing up my days of the week and dates, so much so that the 31st crept up upon me, while knowingly, yet quietly, as if trying to go unnoticed. I’m not one who was wishing the year to be over, and neither am I too crazy about seeking out the thrill of a celebration. I’m happier in my own company, or with the nearness of those, who I truly dearly feel I can show my honest self to. That’s exactly how the evening unfolded. He knows, after all- having the ‘whole world in His hands’, as the children’s nursery rhyme goes.  

We had to be out and about, and had a few errands planned as well. Left after lunch, completed some errands and then decided to do Costco as well. Finished with Costco and then were headed to pick up sarson saag and makki rotis, along with specialties of the area, to take home for dinner. Then had a sudden thought that my friend Surinder lives just around here, and it’s been a while since we saw each other. Called her up and told her where I was and if I could come see her. The delight was evident and her voice, as she said, of course I could come-rather we could come, and to let her know the ETA once I have it. She works from home. 

At the dinner takeaway place, we picked up enough dinner for five. Again called Surinder to say we’d be there in 10 minutes and if we could eat with her, basically inviting ourselves over to her house- for dinner!

The warm welcome of meeting after two years, the hugs, just the joy on her face, reflected in mine and in that of my family upon seeing this kindred spirit again, spoke of celebration in every minute of the welcome. It was a fabulous feeling to be with her again. Surinder’s companionship is complete joy, it’s therapeutic. It was an awesome New Year’s Eve dinner. We had sarson saag, makki rotis, Chana Bhatura, bhindi, baingan Bharat, rotis and achar. With desserts, including ras malai, and juices, tea and lassi all supplied by dear Surinder, we nourished our body and our soul. What an unexpected turn of events, a welcome surprise ending to the day. To the year! What a celebration!

Surinder and I had first met six years ago in a small resort town, north of  Amsterdam. We were both attending a three day workshop. I had been sad and depressed, having lost my mother a few days earlier. With a severe migraine that plagued me for much of the three days, I was confined to my hotel room most of the time. It was a course I was repeating, just because I loved being with the people, who like me, adored my Master so much. So while I did not so much regret missing out on the curriculum, I wished I could have interacted with the group more, because there were several new faces from different parts of the world, though largely Europe. 

It was at breakfast on the last morning, that I noticed Surinder. We were a group of eight or nine women, seated around a large round table. Surinder and I were the only two of Indian origin, among the group of mostly European women. Very kind European women I should say, and we enjoyed great camaraderie. 

It was our concluding day, so the curriculum was light, and everyone was gearing to go back home, so obviously we discussed travel plans, among talk of keeping in touch and exchanging views of how we imbibed in our daily lives, what we had learned at the workshop.

Since my mother had passed away just a few days ago, I was in very poor shape. I wasn’t exactly grieving, and had even refused to go to the funeral, as I could not see her turn to dust. My mother, who was the strongest person I knew, having fought and prevailed over adversity most of her life, had given in; her heart broken by her choice of silence, because some truths cannot be exposed by speech. Some truths have to be realized by all those who are in the situation. They have to be seen, with open eyed and non biased awareness, they have to be known, to be felt with compassion by those, who consciously or inadvertently have been perpetuating a wrong doing. Some tasks should not be delegated, because when they are, sometimes the ownership can be contaminated beyond recognition. My mother saw no point fighting against a relentless enemy. Those who could have helped, were clearly blindfolded, including myself. That was hard to forgive. 

We can forgive others, because at some point the thorn of un-forgiveness cuts so deep, that it’s easier to put up with the one time suffering of pulling it out of one’s life, just so we don’t prolong our misery. But when the thorn is self inflicted, and penetrating from inside out, how do you rid yourself of that? How could I forgive myself, how does one remove this thorn, when one clearly encouraged the thorn to be festered by the negativity of guilt for not having done better? 

My blindfolds came off far too late. I can’t say for others. Some blindfolds however, are best left on, on the eyes of the wearer, for their own perceived happiness. It’s best not to ruffle the air if it blows in discord. Sometimes the darkness of ignorance is better to the blinding light of injustices and untruthful allegations that must be borne in the name of keeping the peace. I was guilty of the silence too. Yes, silence covers wounds like a scab that never heals, that never falls off, but at the slightest friction it prods the pain to awake. 

It was in hindsight that things were becoming clearer, and I was a confused, guilt ridden wreck of emotions that had manifested as the migraine, amongst other agonizing symptoms in my body.

As you can tell, I was clearly a messy heap of turmoil unable to function normally. I was not in position to travel alone. Certainly not internationally, with connecting flights. Staying on in the hotel, would be being alone amongst strangers. 

God must have been watching out for me. He sent Surinder as my guardian angel. This woman, who was a stranger in the morning, sat across me at the airport in the afternoon, as I poured my heart out to her. She had carried my bags first in the bus to the train station, then on the train to the airport, which was quite far. I was unable to do anything for myself with the pain that wracked my body and tormented my soul. Surinder booked me on the same flight as hers. She took me home, made tea for us, and fed me. I felt somewhat revived, having earlier purged myself of some of the pain, under her care, and with the help of her compassionate ear. 

Surinder then herself drove me over an hour to where I could be in the care of family, and continue on my journey with them. It was quite late at night by now. She ensured I was going to be okay, and then drove back home the hour or more, despite us having flown internationally earlier that day. 

Surinder’s kindness to a stranger, her love of humanity, her outstanding personality, and her forthcoming compassion are fine examples of a true friendship that was born that day. 

On this closing day of a difficult year for much of humanity, I was reminded again, of this woman, who’s generosity of Spirit is a rare find these days. Yes, with friends like these in our lives, we have a lot to be grateful for. 

Veenu

01/01/2022

12:00 am

One more sleep till we ring in the New Year!

 My friend Neica in Australia always counted days in ‘sleeps.’

Almost at the Finish line.

 The year is hurtling closer to the Finish line. For some it’s not soon enough, for me, I’m easy. Let time take its course. What’s the rush anyway? 

We are never satisfied. As the year comes to a close, I’ve been reflecting on how much we have, as one sees a lot around us that is cause for concern. There is so much injustice, and what really sucks is that the lower income group bears the brunt of the fallout from the failures of the establishment. 

The establishment. Such a farce sometimes, it knows it stands and it’s aware of its power. That is, in my opinion the real problem. Takes away from anything good they may be required todo, knowing they get away with not doing it, if they don’t want to.

The other thing is, that what the Establishment establishes through rules and laws, over time becomes the culture of a place. It is so vastly different all over the world, with rising disparities in the west. Compared to Europe, we in the USA, are experiencing a sort of cultural anarchy, at the core of which is the worst kind of divisiveness that I have seen and encountered in my almost 26 years here. The real tragedy is that in the past for years, the disparities have grown wider and the awareness has become evident in people much younger, that one would expect to fully comprehend the affects of their actions.

It’s only a grass roots level that can close this chasm of divisions. That effort has to begin at home, in our streets and at the level of the individual. I think that’s a good New Years resolution to start off the new year with. For that understanding, I am thankful. 

Veenu

30th December 2021

11:59 pm.

Some wonders truly never cease to inspire.

I forget now what it was that I was planning to write about. It could have been a few things, as there was plenty to chat about, and a fair bit comes to mind. Nature, however, as always has other plans. Good ones. 

So, this is what happened. Even as I think about it, to write about it, an involuntary big smile spreads across my face, and I can relive the joy I'm about to share with you. Happily. 

We had just gone past the picturesque Yorkshire dales, followed by the Lakes district almost simultaneously, driving south, when the sky turned a misty, watercolor baby blue on the horizon. The Sun was still somewhat high in the sky, backstage somewhere in all of this, undeniably orchestrating this majestic grandeur. 

I thought we were getting views of some waterbody on the horizon, a vast lake flagged by a township, perhaps? Something so pretty had to be inhabited if it was attached to the mainland. Except we were nowhere near the coast and were driving right down through the middle of the country as we continued south. 

The water body looked like the color of the sea that one sees in photographs of the shallow water beaches of the islands of Greece. As we drove further, the mountains on the horizon gave way to gentle, low lying hills, and this waterbody opened up and hugged the horizon in all its pristine blue glory. It clearly was an inlet; I was sure of it—what a spectacle of ethereal beauty. There was no sign that somebody could even remotely connect to man's design but the plentiful and compelling evidence of divinity. 

At the edges of this inlet of tranquilizing blue seemed to rest what appeared to be the thin, pure white foam of a gentle ocean that is so in love with the shore, it does not want to disturb even a grain of sand on its pristine beach as it lay sunbathing. This place was an open-air church where the waters come home to embrace and be embraced, the gentle lapping of the waves, an ode to the Maestro of all creation. It left me spellbound, eyes glued to the horizon, mile after mile, bend after bend, as we progressed along on the highway. 

Above this blue, the beach became a lengthy strip, stretching all along the water's length, the color of a blushing peach, which first turns color from a pubescent green. I wondered if this strip was perhaps a tombolo, except there was no sign of land at either end.

Beyond the ripening peach of the sands of this beach was a rich deep blue ocean reaching further away, filling up the sky. I was taking photos, and videos, even using the slo-mo mode, but nothing could capture the rapture with which this stunning vista had me enthralled. 

It was about an hour later when the Sun eventually came out, beaming in pride, that I realized it was all in a day's work for our Surya Devraj, the mighty Sun. We were witnessing a spectacular sunset, adeptly scored, every tuft of cloud which formed the gentle foam of the incoming tide, every speck of blushing sands, every inch of baby blue, every sliver of gold that shone like sunlight on the illusory inlet. 

We were still a couple of hours away from our destination and the drive, with its unhurried consistency, allowed me to wallow contentedly, drunk with the beauty of this setting sun, high on having had this experience. 

Wanting to give them a rest, I must have closed my eyes, tired from the constantly concentrated effort to unravel the mystery of this scenery, and unawares, I dozed off. When I woke up, the sky was on the cusp of dusk. Luckily, I have the photos and the videos to assure me that I was not dreaming. 

I couldn't have asked for a more fitting homecoming, returning as we were from the fringes of a place that can be as close to a paradise on earth. I have now found the third secret sacred place that I can keep in my heart, knowing it's only a journey away. 

For that, and for today’s gloriously, deliriously, captivating sunset, I am grateful. 

On 12/28/ 2021. Started at 10:43 pm. 

Veenu Banga

Completed 12/29/21

1:07 am. 

Humbled by the ways of Nature

  The wind thrashed around all night. We could hear it through the double panes of the windows and doors and through the walls of the house, battering away all night, at what I could not tell. It’s always pitch dark outside. The lights are so far in the distance, and while one can make out the outlines, you couldn’t see any effects of the wind on structures, because they are so far away.

This landscape is not a stranger to the wind, in fact they seem to be old pals and partners. Actually wind is too mild a word to use for the gales that visit these parts. They’re more like a tempest. There’s evidence of this partnership between wind and earth everywhere the eye wanders. From the windswept grasses to the craggy chiseled shorelines, and the stone ruins of the many kirks and castles big and small and in between that abound on the hillsides. 

In this rough landscape, how do the birds manage, I thought. Vain, vain, vain man, or in this instance, woman. I had soaked some rice for the birds, and thought, softened it will be easier to eat and digest, and I could add it to the oatmeal, as a small treat for the birds. It was 10:15 am already, and the birds were still not here. Usually they’re on cue after sunrise which has been hovering around 9:00 am. Never mind, I thought and put some out anyway. No takers. They did not show up at all. I did see them flying about further afield, but none came near the house, let alone the usual place I feed them.

Ditto the sheep. That’s the hard part. Et tu, sheep? They’re usually hanging around about the house and looking in now and then, steadfast in their mocking, sometimes curious, steady gaze. Today, even they weren’t interested in us. They were further away, possibly at the furthest field. So far away, I’ve never seen them go such a distance before. 

We had work to do, the car to load and then head out to make the overnight trip, so I left it at that. No photos today either. It was a reluctant drizzle, just enough to dampen things, and the sky was also gray, overcast. 

My thoughts were still of the birds, so many of them that would come, and today, none. I thought they knew we were leaving. To be honest though, I was quite disappointed. That’s how life goes, we’re all travelers. They know, know not to depend upon anyone and to live in the moment. 

All animals have a strong sixth sense, that’s a fact of nature. It was a well deserved snub for me. How vain of me to think that I have to provide for them. 

My mother used to say God looks after even the ants and why won’t he look after you? Another friend who was a little older to me, and very introspective and wise, had once told me that I shouldn’t concern myself with the welfare of others as much as I do. That I take away from myself when I do. That I underestimate the grand design of the divine. That everyone is going through what they need to at any given time. And I am reminded of her words often. Old habits die hard. However, with age and maturity, and with some effort the thoughts and habits can be reined in somewhat. Mine, not so much, not do easily.

So that’s what happened today, a well deserved humbling blow to my ego, if that’s the right word? Definitely to this sense of self importance. The audacity to think I was feeding the birds, or that they’d have gone hungry otherwise. Did I think I was indispensable? A visitor to their homeland  and already making assumptions, micromanaging, and all of those words that are used for people who think…or people who assume, like I did. As if I know it all. 

In a way, it’s nice to know that I don’t. Don’t know it all. It’s not my responsibility. That’s liberating to know. For someone who is supposed to be at that place in life, where we look inwards, and have supposedly accumulated some wisdom, (which btw I have not) I should have known better. It was a good lesson. Of many things. 

All my romanticizing of the birds and the sheep, was just that. The creatures of the wild are more pragmatic than us humans, though not without emotion. They know when to move on. From that I should learn a valuable lesson. Now I know, and for that I am grateful. Grateful for the experience and grateful for the realization. That’s a good thing to be thankful for! 

Approaching Orkney, and looking ahead to the journey.

Veenu Banga

12/27/21

10:08 pm. 

Boxing Day bounties

 Not all bounties come in boxes. Some can only be experienced with an open heart, eyes filled with wonderment, and heart easily ready to embrace joy. Well, how about the feeling that one is walking into a changing post card every few minutes. 

Yes, my gift did not come in a box. A gift as marvelous as this never could. Thank you God for the bounty of this beauty that I had the good fortune to experience these past two weeks. For this, I am grateful.

The birds were here again today. While the snow had melted after the sunny day yesterday, they were still looking my way expectantly. Since a few of them were pecking away in the ground, I thought I’d let them feed on their god-intentioned nutrition. I wasn’t sure if there was enough to go around for all of them. After some time. I gave in and put out some oatmeal for them. It was terribly windy and the oat meal blew away, leaving a scattered windswept work of art on the concrete edging around the house outside. 

Again, they flew away when I did that, almost as if chiding me for the delay, as in too little too late, and we’re no longer interested. So I went about my business, only to check in about 10 minutes later, and almost all of it was gone, and the remaining oatmeal was being vigorously consumed one piece at a time, pointy beaks tapping away with the mechanical finesse of hurried fingers at typewriter keys. 

Tomorrow we shall say good bye to them, adieu I hope it is, and that may the divine bestow upon me this gift again in the summertime. I had never imagined that I would be this close to the top of the world. Indeed, now I know what explorers must experience when they’re further up north and describe the terrain pristine. I’ve never seen such clarity in the air, there’s a fineness of lines in the landscape, far out into the distance. It is as if one has suddenly been given clearly perfect eyesight capable of seeing far distances, distinctly magnified. 

Grateful for this wonderful gift that I did not even have to unbox. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy. One sunrise at a time, one set everyday. The promise that the clouds and the sky will deliver new scenery my way, constantly changing, forever, magical. What more could one have been given, without even asking. I must have been good all year!

Veenu Banga

12/26/2021 

(Boxing Day)

11:37 pm.