Saturday stories

Gull politics

It is Saturday and hubby and I are engaged in shopping. We take a break at lunchtime and are sitting on a bench on Petone beach eating hot chips. Soon we are joined by a lone seagull, orange beak, orange feet and orange lined eyes. Hubby throws bits of chips at him and the gull merrily gorges on junk food. We wonder about the fact that he does not even utter a quack to signal to his gull mates that there is food available. But soon another seagull joins us and then the fun begins.

Gull-1 undergoes a transformation. He starts squawking hoarsely and runs after Gull-2, pointed beak open, trying to run him off the place. Now Gull-2 is a smart fellow, he strategically retreats behind the bench where he is content with the bits that hubby throws backwards occasionally. But Gull-1’s squawks have attracted others of his kind and soon we have  a happy crowd of about 10-12 gulls, some of these, we notice, have black feet, beak and kohl-lined eyes. Owing to the fact that these black-eyed beauties are hovering on the fringes, and are smaller in size than the more flamboyant orange eyed-lined fellas, we conclude that the former must be the females.

Gull-1 is now really busy because more gulls are arriving by the minute and he is spending so much time squawking after them and chasing them that he has ceased to notice that bits of food are still being given. In the midst of his squawking and frantic chasing, the newcomers manage to snatch up the food which he has ignored probably with the mistaken belief that he can run all the others off the beach and be the only partaker of the food. Gull-2 at the back has also established his territory and is valiantly defending his turf.

I cannot help think that this is precisely how humans behave too. We are so busy fighting over land and territory that the basic needs of our people get forgotten. There are some countries that probably spend more of their GDP in defence expenditure than in providing food and basic amenities to its people. Even though we know that there are enough resources to feed the whole world, some of us are intent on cornering most of it in a concerted attempt to have more of more totally disregarding the fact that in the process others are getting less of less. When the US went to war in Iraq, they increased their defence budget and guess where the money came from. Some of it came from social welfare, elderly care and basic medical care. They actually cut back spending on these areas.

Sad to think that we are not so highly evolved after all.

~~~

Daane daane par likha hai khane wale ka naam


It is evening and in order to fulfill a greatly felt need for caffeine we stop at a coffee place. We placidly sipping our lattes when Mathew notices that the person at the counter has just thrown a muffin from the tray into the rubbish bin. “Maybe it was damaged, and they didn’t want to sell it”. A short while later we observe that another batch of muffins is being discarded. And then we watch aghast as tray after tray of unsold muffins vanish into the rubbish bin. It is then that we realize that it is closing time and they are throwing away all the unsold food. Our Indian mentality kicks in and we think, what a waste, surely this could have been given to the poor. But where are the poor? The charitable organizations are state-funded and probably wouldn’t need left-over food. What about poor families, new migrants, refugees? We try to work out the logistics involved in taking the food from eateries and carting it to these people. For the amount of labour and time involved we find that for the business owner it is not viable. The amount of food that restaurants, cafés, takeaways discard everyday must be colossal and yet all around the world people go to sleep hungry, die of starvation everyday. 

Kahi daanon par kissi khana wale ka naam nahi hote,
Kissi khane walon ke kismat mein chand daane nahi hote.

~~~

Lambton landscape

Walking down Lambton Quay one bright, warm, sunny afternoon, my senses are flooded with impressions.

People streaming down the sidewalk, dappled sunshine, warm in the sunlight, cool in the shade.

The aroma of coffee, freshly baked cookies, deep-fried fish and chips, curry, canapes, fresh bread, Indian food tinged with banana leaf (olfactory hallucination? Deep-seated desire?)

Baby blue eyes, black sparkling eyes, slanting eyes, sad eyes, sunglassed eyes.

Mothers pushing strollers with babies, mothers pushing strollers with babies in the fathers’ arms, lunchtime family interlude.

'Abra-kebab-ra' selling kebabs, 'Suzette' selling French crepes, 'Chow Mein' selling chow-mein, 'Tastebuds' tempting the tastebuds.

Drooping mouth, kissing-goodbye mouths, cherry-red mouth, sensuously laughing full mouth.

People with pamphlets – ‘Save the children’, ‘Save the forests’, ‘Save the world’.

Flowery skirts, mini skirts, layered skirts, tightly-clinging skirts over swaying legs.

Shop windows beckoning, Christmas trees twinkling, traffic lights turning amber-red-green, steel-glass structures next to elegantly rising churches.

Sautering walk, hurried walk, lazy hip-swinging sexy walk.

Crying children, happily-skipping children, tantrum-throwing children, toddlers gazing fascinated out of mothers’ arms.

Office-goers picnicing on patches of grass, construction workers on scaffolding hammering, lovers walking hand-in-hand.

People waiting at bustops. Waiting for love, waiting for heartbreak. Waiting at the crossing, ‘Don’t walk’, ‘Go’, just like life.

Stockinged feet, tired feet, sandaled feet, spring-in-the-step feet.

Silvery notes of laughter, broken bits of conversation, music pouring from the CD shop, tenor voices raised in carols, meloncholy rising from a one-stringed violin.

A medley of images, smells, sounds impinge on my senses and I come back feeling like I have just visited a painting.

Silence in Haiku

The sound
of hearts breaking
are echoed in silence.

Footfalls of silence
follow
broken dreams.

And yet,
silence also holds
the hint of hope.

Like shards of moonlight,
through black clouds
on the darkest night.

Saviour

Until yesterday I was a girl,
running with the other girls,
braids flying, skirts billowing,
to the river to fetch water,
helping Ma make rotis.

Then the crops failed,
we had nothing left to eat,
Baba looked sad and dejected.
A man came from the city to save us,
gave Baba lots of rupees.

Now I am a woman living in the city.
Men do strange things to my body,
it causes me a lot of pain.
It hurts them too I think,
for they moan and groan.

I wish Ma would come
and massage my limbs,
hold me to her bosom.
I wish I could go into the fields
and shriek into the night.

When I left home Ma was sad
but greatly relieved too.
She said I had saved the family,
saved Baba from certain death.
But who will come and save me?
Inspired, nay provoked by an article I read about a young girl sold into prostitution by her farmer father perhaps to escape starvation. Can't point any fingers here. Sabhi haalaat se majboor hai. Maybe the money brought them some respite, maybe they even prospered, but the girl has a dim chance of escaping her fate. She was sold at 14, became a mother at 16, one more mouth to feed, further entrenchment. Makes one wonder of what use is progress if the poor cannot be empowered.

A Reminding

A long time ago I read a story which for some reason I haven't forgotten yet because the Universe has got into the habit of reminding me about it whenever I tend to forget.

Some time ago (maybe 19th century) when the African jungles were still largely unexplored, an English explorer went to Africa for study and exploration work. He hired some locals to do the navigation and carry his gear and together they set out into the jungles. They would stay in tents during the nights and get up at dawn, cut through the bush, clear a path, do exploration, tent down for the night, next day clear some more bush, go forward etc. This went on for a few days until one morning the Englishman discovered that all his guides had gone on strike and had decided not to move from there for a few days. When he asked them the reason, they said "We have been working and moving and rushing on so fast that we feel that we have left our spirits behind. We need to stay in one place and get back into the rhythm of things so that our spirits can catch up with us".

Over the past few weeks I have been feeling the same. So I decided to slow down to let my spirit catch up. After a long time I listened to music, not the usual background music that I listen to while working at home or office. No, I put everything aside and sat down and actually listened to it with my eyes closed and my spirit reveling in it. Once again I felt my spirit being one with it and swaying and dancing to the music. I took time off from work and did nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, just listened to birdsong ringing out through the raag of the raindrops on the roof. I got back to reading and also came up with a great idea for my next pottery project.

Now the challenge is to see that I stay in this natural rhythm of things and not get carried away by the fast tempo of life. All that we desire for is already there within us, so why do we look for gratification outside ourselves. There is music, joy, laughter, compassion, peace, love. All of it Divine.

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Excerpted from "Chicken Soup for the Soul"

THE RULES FOR BEING HUMAN

1. You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it, but it will be yours for the entire period of this time around.

2. You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called Life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant and stupid.

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial and error. Experimentation. The “failed” experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately “works”.

4. A lesson is repeated until learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can then go on to the next lesson.

5. Learning lessons does not end. There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

6. “There” is no better than “here”. When your “there” has become a “here”, you will simply obtain another “there” that will again look better than “here”.

7. Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself.

8. What you make of your life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.

9. Your answers lie inside you. The answers to Life’s questions lie inside you. All you need to do is look, listen and trust.

10. You will forget all this.

Courtesy - Chicken Soup for the Soul

A Chance Encounter

It is 8PM and I have just landed at Wellington Airport after a trip to Hamilton. I had asked for a taxi earlier and sure enough there is a man standing there holding a placard with my name on it. He introduces himself as Dean and even before we have reached his taxi he is already asking me where I work and what I do. He says he used to also work in the IT field for many years in the technical and sales side. He was part of the team taking care of www.stuff.co.nz NZ’s third site in terms of traffic and also was instrumental in getting customers for CityLink, Wellington’s high bandwidth network. I look at him in astonishment and almost involuntarily I ask him why he left all that and became a taxi driver. He said he found his previous job too stressful and he had done it too many years and was looking for a change and he was moonlighting anyway with a taxi so he decided to quit his job and buy a taxi and become self-employed. But his long-term goal is to have his own business maybe computer related. So I ask him what is stopping him and he says ‘plain laziness’.

So for the next half hour we talk about computers and life. I find out that he is divorced with two sons and has a girlfriend but no partner because “Marriage is a bad joke”. “Having boys is fun”. He tells me what courses and diplomas he has done and what jobs he has worked in. He asks me when I started with IT and I say “a long time ago I started with DOS”. It is his turn to look astonished, “I can’t believe that”, he says. And I reply “I am older than I look”. I ask him what sort of highs he gets from taxi-driving as compared to the almost daily highs you get in IT and he says “A high would be a drive from the airport to Paraparamu”. It turns out that he knows about Xplorer the GIS website that EGL creates and that he is acquainted with Ewan the guy at the Upper Hutt City Council that I used to liaise with and we both rediscover that it is a small world indeed.

And then there is a lull in the conversation and I am thinking about what he says about being an entrepreneur and suddenly I am almost thinking aloud about my desire to be an entrepreneur and now it is his turn to ask me in what is stopping me. After we have reached the house and I have paid him and we say our polite goodbyes and he adds, “It was a pleasure talking to you” and somehow for once it seems sincere and not a formality and I am about to say the same thing back but something stops me, maybe the feeling that I might not be able to match his sincerity. And he says "Who knows we might meet again", and I say "Yes, who knows, it is after all a small world". And later on I am thinking how we could talk so freely about things that mean so much to us to a perfect stranger like we were friends going on a drive and not a taxi-driver and his customer. Maybe it is God’s way of reminding me that I have a dream to fulfill and that He can came in any form to remind us of life's lessons.

Mosaic

The aircraft taking us from Hamilton to Wellington is a small one, a 33-seater (I counted) and I exchange seats with my boss to get the window seat. We take off at 7 PM and the sun is still high on the horizon. The plane is flying low so the landscape is still visible. What I see below me is simply breathtaking. A mosaic of green fields which stretch on and on into the horizon, interspersed with pools of water, undulating lines of trees, mounds of little hillocks and scattered all over black and white specks of cows and creams dots of sheep. The clouds have cast a dark shadow which moves as the clouds glide by and then the plane hits a cloud bank. We plough through tufts of soft, cottony, innocent looking clouds, but the plane thinks otherwise because it starts an instant fight and shakes in consternation. But soon the fight is over and we sail clear of the clouds. The landscape below is now bathed in evening sunlight and the grass glows emerald green in the light, trees casting long dark shadows, and the sunlight gleaming off red roofs in tiny hamlets and glinting off windows and lighting up the bodies of little rivulets and ponds.

Then the pilot decided it is time to climb even higher and very soon we are flying over this bank of cumulus, calm and steady and I can’t help thinking that this is how Jonathan Livingston Seagull must have felt when he flew high over the clouds, breaking free of the limits he had hindered himself with, breaking free of accepted convention, daring to live his life and more importantly daring to live his dream. And from up there the cares and troubles of my life seem so insignificant, so puny so as to be totally wiped out. And I realize that if I remain aloft and apart from the drama of my life whose script I have myself written, I can always be in this space of calm and serenity.

And soon we are flying over the Tararuas which is still snow-capped and the windmills over the Manawatu range, until I see the graceful arc of a long river which I discover with joy is our very own Hutt River flowing through Upper Hutt. And there is Stokes Valley right below nestling placidly among hills darkening in the gathering dusk. The road to Wainuomata snaking over the Eastern Hills and the surf gently caressing the sands of the Eastbourne bays. And as the plane turns towards the airport the sun is low over the horizon, almost sinking into the sea, blazing this shimmering, golden path on the water, almost beckoning me to take it. And the land’s end at Happy Valley and the runway comes up to meet us.

Waikato and thereabouts

Day 1 :

My trip to the Waikato University was fascinating. Great campus, spread out among rolling lawns, little lakes, hostel units. This is the only univ here with a Centre for the Performing Arts. We went inside and had a look at the theatres and green rooms. There is one outdoor performance area which is a circular area just by the side of the lake with long steps where the audience can sit. Great setting. If I was close enough I would have come for performances. We had breakfast at an old train station that got converted into a café and lunch at another nice place.

We drove to the Springhill Prison in the afternoon which is still under construction and is also quite big. All very flash. This one is going to have Plasma TV in the recreation areas for the inmates and under-floor heating, because the inmates are vandalising the heaters and it is more cost-effective to have under floor heating. The taxpayers are not too happy. The drive to the hotel was good. It rained for some time, but it was a strange experience. It would rain heavily to near zero-visibility, then taper off, then clear dry roads and sunshine and blue sky, then rain again, then sun again. It seemed like the rain clouds were chasing the car. Finally the rain clouds settled over us and we had rain for the rest of the evening. It was very enjoyable.

Day 2 :

It is beautiful in Waikeria. The Waikeria prison is spread over an area of 500 acres (I think) and the buildings are all spread out with barbed wire fences for each. The rest of the land is pasture with cows and sheep (around 3000 heads of cattle). Some of the inmates work on the farms. We passed by vans with inmates in them going to work. A lot of maize is being grown on farms which is then fed to the cows. There is also a water treatment plant which treats water from the local river for drinking. And the sewer treatment plant treats waste before it is released into the waste water system. There used to be vegetable farms and fruit orchards and nurseries which has now been closed down. But the National govt decided to close them since they were not profit making units. There is a minimum security unit with no barbed wire fence, but with a library and classrooms for inmates wanting to learn. I was driven around the grounds and buildings but did not get into the actual buildings.

It is a beautiful day and the office looks out to green grass and trees and a vast expanse of blue sky. It feels more like I am on holiday than at work. I try to focus on the screen but the landscape keeps calling out to me. We finish at four and take the car back to Hamilton to catch the flight back. It is a beautiful drive, sunny and calm and the pastures laid out on both sides.

Plant your own garden

Author unknown

After a while you learn the subtle difference,

Between holding a hand and

Chaining a soul.

You learn that love

Doesn't mean leaning and

Company doesn't mean security.

You begin to learn

That kisses aren't contracts and

Presents aren't promises.

You begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of an adult,

Not the grief of a child.

You learn to build

All your roads on today

Because tomorrow's ground

Is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn

That even sunshine burns

If you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and

Decorate your own soul

Instead of waiting

For someone to bring you flowers.

You learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong.

You really do have worth.

I bow to Thee, oh Lord

Like a blossoming flower
my spirit opens at your touch Oh Lord,
Soft-footed we walk
through all your creation
forests, valleys, oceans.
Your breath gentle in the wind
Your voice crashing in the waterfall
Your touch the brush of the butterfly wing
The folds of a tree your comforting arms.
Every sunrise your smile
and every sunset your promise.
A child's hand in my hand your trust.

I bow to Thee, oh Lord
Your spirit one with mine.

Fine poetic wine

Reading great poetry is so much like enjoying fine wine, you read each word slowly, turn the liquid around in your mouth, savour the pauses, the aroma, fine-tune into the nuances, let it gently down the throat, let it seep into you. And then after a while you read it again like having a second glass, and then you catch hidden nuances that you missed before, as it slowly reveals its secrets to you. It somehow tastes different on your tongue, beats a softer beat on your heart. And for a long time you sit in the afterglow, feeling warm inside, enthralled by the beauty, oblivious to everything else.

Bookends

The blinking cursor does beckon,
But the keyboard, does it reckon ?
Reams of words unspoken,
Pathways of thoughts untrodden.

And so in silence I wait, for silence
To break its numbing silence.
And then comes a feeling,
Tender, soft-footed and fleeting...

But my heart, the mendicant lonely
With bowl in hand, broken and lowly,
Waits for a crumb from you, a glance
This silence with which to lance.

And still the cursor waits apace,
‘Tween heart and keys there is many a space,
And thus remain my words unsaid,
My tears of joy wholly unshed...

Hope and renewal

Autumn drops a leaf on me,
russet brown and brittle.
It feels like an old dream.

“I shed old leaves, old things”, she says,
“and in nakedness Nature
bares her heart to the winter sun.”

But I, mesmerized by its vivid colours
hold on to this dead, decaying leaf.

Then Spring springs a leaf on me,
russet brown and tender.
It feels like a newborn baby.

“I bring new life, new growth”, she says,
“and in riotous colours Nature
offers it beauty to the summer sun.”

And thus I find the wisdom to let go…
…of old pain, old memories, old hopes.

Tiger Lily and I

Returning home from pottery it is 9PM and I sit in the car for a while in the dark. The sky is dotted with stars and the full moon has not yet risen. Soon, Tiger Lily, our neighbour’s cat jumps on the hood not knowing that I am still in the car (so much for cat vision). Even though her tummy is full with cat food, she still prowls like a cat on a hunt, ears erect, alert to the slightest sound and movement. I have this desire to go out and stroke her fur but I know that on my slightest movement she will disappear. So we sit in silent company waiting for the moon to rise.

I watch her movements as she relaxes and stretches and I send out mental strokes. I am aware of the seconds ticking by and I realize that Tiger Lily is oblivious of the passing moments. So are the trees, the grass, the clouds, the stars…. Each and every one of them (except man) exists outside time, they are just being themselves every moment, all the time. There is no conflict, no tension, no past regrets, no future anticipation, no “what if”, no “if only”. There is only living in the present moment. Just the silent knowledge that God is always there underlying everything. Somehow the thought is strengthening and brings peace.

The amazing Constable

I went to see the John Constable exhibition on tour here at Te Papa on Saturday. What I saw was simply breathtaking. I could have spent the whole day there looking at the paintings again and again. Constable was the son of a prosperous miller and spent a long period of his life around the place he grew up in and painted the scenes of his everyday life with such clarity and such beauty. He evidently loved the place and the love comes through in his paintings. His paintings have a three-dimensional quality and standing in front of them makes you feel like you are actually there watching the scene through the painter's eyes. You are transported back to the place and time almost two centuries ago looking at pastoral scenes or ships in the harbour or London in the distance, thinking 'this is how it was, this is how the painter saw it'. And any moment you expect the leaves to move or the water to start flowing, such is the dynamism in the paintings. Truly a memorable experience.

Us luminous beings

I believe that we are like the sun, glorious, luminious beings, lit from within with the light of love. But we go through life with our doors closed, our faces lit up with artificial, flourescent smiles and 100-watt laughter. And then someone comes along whose soul connects to our soul and we throw open our doors and windows and our light shines forth and we reveal our true, loving self. And we revel in their presence and can be totally ourselves and we say we are transformed by love. But is it really a transformation, isn't it just an uncovering? The uncovering of our true self.

The same thing happens when we are in the presence of beauty, a beautiful sunrise, the cadences of birdsong, lilting music, great works of art, the innocence of children, the beauty within us responds to the beauty without and we realise our beautiful selves.

So then, why do we let fear close our doors, force ourselves to wear masks, shutting out our light, blind to the light in others? It would be so wonderful if we lived believing that we are creatures of light, capable of great loving, aware of our infiniteness, in touch with our divinity. We would truly be divine.

My heart is a shrine

My heart is a shrine, it seems,
loves come and go like pilgrims.

Some come seeking solace,
some to unlock the joy in their hearts.

And yet others come with footsteps heavy with sorrow,
and I wait for them to undam their pain.

Until release comes in torrent upon stormy torrent,
all pain washed clean by blessed tears.

And yet what can I give,
but the God that is within me?

This lamp of love you have lit with your hands, Oh Lord,
and sheltered it from innumerable storms.

My song of praise is my only offering,
and my heart lifted up in gratitude.

Wealth

A long time ago I came across a Sanskit verse which goes "Artham anartham bhavaya" which loosely translated means "Regard wealth as filth". "What a wise saying" I thought and proceeded to do just that. So all these years I have had a mild dislike towards wealth aided by the observation that wealth can buy comforts and luxuries but cannot bring happiness. I have never been rich in my life, richness of course being a relative term, but when I look back I realise that all my needs have always been met, my desires for the simple things in life have been fulfilled.

I have come to realise that it is more important to have a sense of abundance, of being rich in spirit, in generosity, in the spirit of giving whether of your possessions or of yourself. When I put a smile on someone's face, I feel rich. Like Martin Luther King Jr said 'Wealth is the least of God's blessings'. So everyday I thank God for the wealth of blessings that he has showered over me, all the love, the grace, the kindnesses, the joy, the abundance. Wealth somehow takes care of itself without my having to bother much about it. There is just the faith that God will provide.

But I no longer regard wealth as filth. I have realised that wealth has its uses, like helping someone short of cash with money required for surgery, like putting a poor child through school, like buying a book which can enrich you with knowledge, like buying a plane ticket to see a dying parent whose sole remaining wish is to see you. I guess the intent of the Sanskrit verse was to point out that one should remain detached from wealth, to not develop greed, to not allow it to stick to our senses as one would not allow filth to stick.

Take me in Your arms

Take me in your arms, Oh Lord.

Take me with You in the wind that brings the scent of faraway lands, of approaching rain,
the formless wind with footprints on surfaces of lakes.

Take me with You in the rain that pours down on the parched earth, evoking perfume scented song and causing the seeds to burst forth into life.

Take me with You in the sea that watery, salty cauldron with its constant ebb and flow and pulled by the moon and yet knows the secrets of all mankind.

Take me with You in the sap that rises up in trees and bursts into leaf and bud and branches in which birds come and nest and raise their young.

Take me with You in the songs of the fields, in the dust of farmers' hands, in the celebration of harvests and the warm glow of harvested grain.

Take me with You in the sunshine that glows on the faces of children at play adding sparkle to their eyes and music to their laughter.

Take me with You in the joys and sorrows of the human heart, in love that rends the heart and pain that kills softly, unknowingly.

Take me with You in the silences that dwell in the depth of forests and the eyelids of sleeping babies secure in their mothers' arms.

Take me in Your arms, Oh Lord, fill me with Your love, let me lose myself and merge with You in never ending ecstasy.