Writing

Day 735

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bullehshah

Why do we turn to other people’s words when we are in a difficult place?

Possibly because we can’t find the words ourselves. It is comforting to hear our experience reflected in someone else. It also helps us find the balance between our intellectual and emotional centres.

Sufi poetry has enamoured me for a long time. It takes me to a place beyond all kinds of man-made walls and makes me feel one with myself and all humanity. It makes higher knowledge more easily accessible while bringing great pleasure and peace.

Rumi and Bulla Shah are two of my favourites.

Bulla, I know not who I am?

Nor am I a believer of the mosque,
Nor am I in rituals of the infidel
Nor am I the pure inside the impure.

Nor am I inherent in the Vedas,
Nor am I present in intoxicants.
Nor am I lost nor the corrupt.

Nor am I union, nor grief,
Nor am I intrinsic in the pure/impure
Nor am I of water, nor of land.

Nor am I fire nor air.
Bulla! I know not who I am

Nor am I Arabic, nor from Lahore,
Nor am I the Indian city of Nagour.
Nor hindu or a turk from Peshawar.

Nor did I create differences of faith,
Nor did I create Adam and Eve
Nor did I name my self.

Beginning or end, I just know the self,
Do not acknowledge duality.
There’s none wise than I.

Who is this Bulla Shah?
Bulla! I know not who I am.

Nor am I Moses, nor Pharoah
Nor am I fire nor wind.
I do not stay in Nadaun city. (City of innocents)
Bullashah, who is this man standing?

Bulla! I know not who I am
Bulla! I know not who I am.

Bulleh Shah, 1680-1757, a Punjabi humanist, philosopher and poet.

 

 

Day 740

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It is a bright rectangular 3-D space, the sanctum sanctorum of my home. As I stand at its door I get a full blast of green through the huge clear glass panes that extend from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. I recognise the return of autumn in the random touches of auburn and yellow scattered across the garden. As I gaze at nothing in particular, I notice a brown leaf fall from its tree in the periphery of my vision. The grass is still an inviting carpet, just beginning to fade. The birds must be resting as silence is all I hear. It is exactly the way I like it.

Back in the room, lives a luscious brown leather sofa. Sitting or lying on it feels like being warmly hugged by it. This one piece of furniture transforms the room into a safe haven. It emanates an old earthy smell. Its roughness is ever so slight that it captures enough air to make it soft. Innumerable cups of aromatic Darjeeling tea have been savoured on it. It allows words to flow from a real place. It brings out the gems of secrets we keep carefully wrapped up in silk and folded away, stored in the bottom drawer of our being. It creates space for sharing, loving and healing. It has housed many ailing hearts. It has brought them calm and comfort. It makes them feel at home. It lets them breathe. Feel. Acknowledge.

On the other side of the room sits a big table made of a dark wood called iroko. It has five colourful chairs hap-hazardly scattered around it. Now I can hear the purring of the fridge and the whirring of the dish-washer. On the table is perched a laptop, open and charging. A pale yellow bent orchid and a few upright pink gerberas look at me from the far corner. A few unlit white candles, big and small make it look like a well-sculpted garden. A half empty, half full, refillable glass of water waits on a plain cork coaster. Unopened letters, a to-do list with a few items ticked off, three coloured felt tip pens, a cordless phone off the hook… each one a piece of evidence of pottering. Me in my kitchen. Again!

Day 735

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Today, I woke up determined to have a ‘normal’ day.
Fed the cats. Helped Si make a breakfast smoothie. Got ready. Gulped the thick fruity drink down and headed for the train station. On the way, I received a text from a junior doctor who thanked me for sharing this blog with her as she thought it was full of very valuable insights. From her own experiences, she knew how reluctant society was to talk about mental illness. She is seriously considering specialising in Psychiatry.

At work I had a capable young trainee working with me. Aside from anaesthesia we talked about the gentrification of Brixton that had gone too far and how doing admin is far more tiring than looking after patients. Then I caught up with some admin.

‘Grassroots’ in Brighton sent an e-mail thanking me for contributing to their World Suicide Prevention Day celebrations : https://youtu.be/aclR9grDt1Q

One of Saagar’s school friends sent me a ‘friend request’ on face book! Yay!!! 🙂

Went to the gym after work. There was a beautiful, slim, tall blonde lady training at the same time as me. I overheard her saying that she did not like to look at herself in the mirror. I couldn’t think of one reason why that might be the case.  Wonder what her story was! After finishing the session had a heart to heart with my trainer who shared his difficult time looking after his father in a hospice for 3 months before he passed away.  We both had tears in our eyes and we gave each other a warm healing hug before saying bye. While having a shower I realised that if I stood absolutely still under the warm shower, it felt like being inside a warm duvet.

On the way home, I slept with my mouth open on the train. Luckily didn’t miss my station or swallow a fly. Got a phone call from R’s Mum. She has not had a good week. R’s inquest is coming up next month and she really wants to talk to me about it. So, we set a date for next week.

Got home and lit a candle for Saagar. Sat down with a cup of tea and heard a knock on the door. There was a lady from Greenpeace. After talking to her for 5 minutes at the door I invited her in. For the next half an hour we had a great conversation. I didn’t mind missing the ‘Archers’. We spoke about many topics close to my heart – air quality on London, lack of proper usage of solar energy in India, people forming strong bonds with technology while loosing their deep connection with nature, writing, campaigning and so on. I am now a proud member of Greenpeace!

Now I am about to cook dinner for Si as he is working late…again.

So, I suppose I did have a ‘normal’ day.

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.