Tuesday, February 26, 2013

of memories and pride...

All my childhood memories have traces of granny's presence. Like all fond things, I could gauge her worth only after I lost her. Her tenderness has seeped so deep into my being that I can still feel her touch, I remember the earthy fragrance around her, I can recall the taste of the many varieties of food she prepared for us with love. All this even after 10-11 years of her passing away! Every evening, she used to take me to madhwasangha for pravachana. While she listened to profound discourses inside the hall, i used to stand near the gate and dream away to glory. I used to first finish all the toffees she bought me and plan the possible escape routes if someone kidnapped me. I used to run to the main road only because I was forbidden. Ajji came out often to check on me. I had calculated the gap between each of her visits. The calculations went horribly wrong at times and I used to get caught wandering on the road. It always ended quite dramatically. She would drag me inside; I would cry aloud drawing all the attention there. That meant I could break the queue at the end of the session to reach the speaker and was of course blessed with an extra kallu sakkare (sugar crystal?) most often.
Ajji didn’t go to madhwasangha to while away her time. Nothing that she listened to disappeared in thin air. She put it all down in words. She read extensively. She compiled all the information she knew and gave it her own colour. The 10-11 books that she wrote speak for themselves. She started writing very late in her life. Not many knew that she could write. She didn’t undergo schooling. After all the hardships she underwent and emerged victorious; she wasn’t compelled to write. She had already proved her point as a woman. But she set her own standards. She has earned praises from eminent scholars. I didn’t have to go looking for ideals. There she was, in flesh and blood; here she is, still alive, in my memories. Books, plants, and children – they all earned a special place in her heart.
Her very first book just got reprinted. It is titled “Sri samanyarige Mahabharata”.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Life is a quotation

Most of us live within quotes and die within quotes.
Dream, we sure do. But do we dare to get out there and do what is needed? We all choose our little comfort zones and stay put.
Compromise is probably the way of life.
Life is mimicry, they say. And that to me is the scariest part of life. If all that we can ever be is a fragile copy, then why live at all! Our thoughts reflect others' thoughts, our opinions guided by others', our taste is determined by that of others', the grand choices and decisions of our lives are ruled by others. Their reality becomes our reality. All in all, we are under the spell of this anonymous larger-than-life 'other'.
Passion, freedom, originality - are they all mere myths?

“Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.” Franz Kafka