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Day 706

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On some days the words come tumbling on to the page and arrange themselves exactly the way I want them to. Other times, they need coaxing, cajoling and persuading. They need a stage or a platform to be able to show up.
I sit down to write with my laptop at the kitchen table and notice that the sink has a tea cup and a tea spoon in it. Well, better wash them up before starting. Just then Milkshake comes in through the cat-flap looking very hungry! Got to feed him now. Look, the cushions are all over the place. Better fluff them up and sit them properly. Oh, the flowers and vases look a bit tired and dirty respectively. The water needs changed, dead heads discarded and the stems need trimmed down an inch or so. Nice! While I am at it, let me just quickly water the plants as well. May be add a bit of plant food too. I think the clothes are washed. This is a good time to move them to the drier. Oh! The drier already has dried clothes in it. Let me just sort them out while I can. That reminds me, there is dry-cleaning due for collection. Well, may be another time.
Right now I really need to write. But before that, I think a cup of mint tea would be really nice. I open the fridge to get some mint leaves and I find a box of strawberries. Let me just stem and halve these berries while the kettle is boiling. Si would love to have them after dinner. That done, I notice the land-line phone flashing at me. Let me just check the answer phone messages while the tea is brewing. What a lovely surprise to hear from a dear old friend in America. Can’t wait to catch up with her again. The time is about right, considering the difference in time zones. Shall I call her after finishing the writing?

May be just a quick call.

© Procastinators : Leaders of tomorrow. Or the day after.

 

Day 705

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Sometimes the strangest events stick in one’s memory. One such moment is the one when I fell in love with Brad Pitt. The one and only Miss Oprah Winfrey interviewed him on her show and asked him,
“What is your favourite age or time in your life?”
“Right now” said he.
(Ref : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1lfPp-ZgDg)

Mrs Smith files for divorce.
6 children, the true victims.
Being born into show biz is risky enough.
A custody battle on top!

Children brought up by single parents and in step families are three times more likely to suffer from mental health problems according to the Millenium Cohort Study, one of the largest longitudinal studies carried out on more than 10,000 kids in the UK. It collected and analysed information on various aspects of lives of children such as schooling, housing, parental marital status, employment and education.

(Source: http://www.cls.ioe.ac.uk/page.aspx?&sitesectionid=1330&sitesectiontitle=MCS+age+11+initial+findings)

It found that those brought up by both natural parents are far less likely to suffer severe emotional and behavioural problems. Experts said the findings added to “a mountain of evidence” about the damage caused to kids by the stress of family breakdowns.

Overall, 6.6 per cent of children living with both natural parents were found to have severe mental health problems, compared with 15 per cent of those living with single parents and 18 per cent of those living in step-families. Higher levels of mental health problems were found among boys, who were more likely than girls to suffer from conduct problems, hyperactivity and inattention.

Good luck dear Smith-lets! Look after each other. xxx

Day 704

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I love Mondays!
Yes. I did get strange looks when I made this declaration at work one time. But it is true and I don’t feel like a sad old soul for saying it.

Today is a Monday but I don’t like it. After being here for 5 lovely weeks, my parents left for India this afternoon. I got back to an empty house after all these weeks of coming home to beautiful aromas emanating from the kitchen and a nice cup of tea with them. This evening the house was dead quiet and I went straight to bed.

Not having them at the dinner table was really sad, especially because Mum had cooked our favourite okra dish for dinner before she left. They left the house filled with colourful lilies and chrysanthemums!

I feel envious of my friends when they say – ‘I am going for lunch with my mum’ or ‘we are going to see our folks this weekend’. I can’t do these things normally as my folks live more than 4000 miles away. But it’s been party-time everyday they’ve been here. We’ve had a great time together and I am very grateful for every second of it.

Good byes are always hard but now, more so than before.

Day 703

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If music be the food of love, play on…

Listening to the melodic sound waves coming from the vocal cords, strings and drums on stage was exquisitely pleasurable but my mind was trying to understand it. How many beats in this rhythm? What raga? Which set of notes? Whose composition? And so on… I was struggling to ‘know about’ it instead of relaxing and allowing it to reach my heart.

It was time to do nothing but feel the music. Immerse myself in it. After a while I was not there any more. All that was left of me was the tingling in my ear-lobes, the tapping of my fingers and toes, the goose-bumps on my skin, the tidal waves of love in my heart, the surges of pathos in my being, the soothing meditative calmness in my mind, the slow joyous breaths in my chest, the merging of the tunes with me, the submergence of my self in the sea of harmony, in perfect unison with it, whole and complete, pure and pristine, flowing, dancing, drowning …

“Oh Khusrau, the river of love
Runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns,
And one who drowns, gets across.”

–Amir Khusrao (https://allpoetry.com/Amir-Khusro)

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Day 702

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In one month it will be 2 years since Saagar’s time on this planet came to an end. I don’t want that date to arrive. I am absolutely dreading it. I remember when Saagar was coming close to finishing school, the thought of him going off to university made me feel terribly sad, almost panicked, knowing it was bound to happen. It’s the same feeling, only different. Another year! Another slot of time. A longer gap between him and me, more distance between the time when he lived and now. More fade. More erosion.

This evening we attended a unique black-tie event – a dinner/dance to honour and celebrate Ruth’s life. She was only 44 when she got tired of her Bipolar Disorder. She had suffered with it for most of her adult life. Her friends and family got together and had a great big fun party for her. It was a happy event. I have never met Ruth but her Mum and I have a unique bond. It felt special to be there with Si and my parents. I felt deep gratitude for all these lovely people in my life. All the proceeds went to the charity Mind.

The same adjectives I use to describe Saagar were used  to describe Ruth. She was actively involved in amateur theatre and her gorgeous photographs from various productions were displayed for our pleasure – Kismet, Sweet Charity, South Pacific and Oliver. Her twinkling eyes and cheeky smile sparkled through every photograph.

“Mem’ries light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colour mem’ries of the way we were
Scatterred pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time re-written ev’ry line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries may be beautiful yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter we will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were… the way we were…”

The way we were from ‘The way we were’.

Bless you Ruthy!

Bless you Saagar!