Generations - Conclusion

My car and many more cars went through multitude revolutions as my hair grayed and grandchildren came along. I transferred to the back seat and watched the trees change from lush to colorful to bare to snow-laden to lush again. 

A rumor of a morning hung out there, behind the dull shroud. A mist rose from the lake to merge into the veil.  Patches of light emerged in the midst of darkness while a scythe of a moon lingered, overstaying its welcome. Birds blindly floated from branch to branch, guiding their path through song.  A gust flew in, steering the clouds away, parting the curtain for the spot light of the morning, allowing the show to begin. 

 

We pull into a space in a large parking lot and I unfasten my seat restraint.  The door wouldn’t open from the inside, child safety lock still in place.  My daughter steps out of her driving seat and holds my door ajar.  My feet touch the hard concrete and she helps me pull my large behind up. I take the cane she hands me and steady my stance on the firm surface.  My three legs move forward with my daughter beside me, holding my hand, matching my pace. 

The building that welcomes us is large with an automatic sliding door.  We step into a grand entryway with a large foyer and a reception desk on one side.  A young man greets us and invites us to check in at his desk.  We take our seats facing him, my cane leaning against his desk in one corner.  My daughter lets go of my hand to pick up a pen and sign the papers presented to her.  My hand feels empty, cold, abandoned.  I lean in to decipher the words on the paper, but my eyes betray me.  All I see is little black ants crawling up the page, moving in circles, down a line in single file.  I bring my abandoned hand to a pen on the desk and begin to fiddle with the instrument.  Click click. Click click.  The young man and my daughter glance up at me and then at the pen.  I’m at a loss as to what’s bothering them?  I don’t hear any irritating sounds.

Paperwork finally completed, we rise.  The two young people fuss about me, handing me my cane, pulling out the chair, holding my arm so I can rise up and steady myself.  We follow the young man across the foyer through a hallway.  As we reach the end, I hear a cacophony of sounds as if a cocktail party is in session.  A door swings open and we walk into a large hall.  There are people everywhere, standing, walking, sitting on a sofa absorbed in a book, sitting around several tables in midst of various games. I notice women in wheelchairs, men with hearing aids, people with IV’s or oxygen tank next to their seat. Some hold cards in their hand, others make much noise at the mahjong table. A group of men and women are sitting in a corner by the fireplace, absorbed in a deep discussion, each holding a book in their hands.

I turn to my daughter, look in her eyes and nod.  She smiles, kisses my forehead, gives me a hug and promises to return in a few hours.

The End
 

Generations - Part One

I felt the hard concrete under my feet as I stepped out of my car.  In the back seat my 3-year old had already unbuckled her car-seat restraint and was attempting to open the door.  The child safety locks kept her safely in, until I opened the door. She hopped out with both feet firmly on the ground.  We stood together, side by side looking at the small building in front of us.  I searched for the entrance and spotted a small path leading up to the side of the structure.  I felt tiny fingers curl around my hand and we followed our footsteps towards a new beginning.

The double doors were glass and heavy and I managed to get my petite child through them without crushing any fingers or toes.  A tall desk greeted us with a smiling face behind it.  I stood tall and peered over the top of the desk for introductions and related the purpose of our visit. Kind eyes looked at me with confusion.  No new child was expected that day and the owner had not arrived yet.  I explained that I had spoken with the owner and was asked to bring my child at the hour that the large clock behind her chimed.  The kind eyes nodded and disappeared into a classroom with promise to return with an answer.

My daughter stood straight beside me, staring at the wooden wall of the tall desk flat in front of her.  I went on my tip-toes and tried to look over to the other side of the desk, as if bobbing my head above water as my body and my child lay submerged. My hand fidgeted in my purse for my planner to confirm the appointment date as my feet shuffled to find a footing. I felt cool fingers on my arm and looked down at the innocent face.  My young child stood calm in her blue, stone-washed cotton shorts with matching t-shirt, white socks folded down to her ankles securing her tiny feet in denim shoes.

I attempted a smile and let her hold my hand.  The second and then minute hands ticked away as the delicate grasp in my hand became tighter and sweaty.  I stroked her soft hair and squeezed her hand gently.

The kind woman returned and reiterated that no one was aware of a new child starting.  However, Miss Katie’s class can accommodate and I can guide my daughter towards the classroom.  We turned, hand in hand taking tentative steps towards the classroom.  Cacophony of little people voices vibrated out into the hallway through the open door.  My little girl tightened her grip on my finger and stopped mid-step.  I looked down into her dark eyes with a fan of long lashes.  She tilted her head up towards me and declared, “I…I will no cry.”

I smiled with quivering lips and allowed her to lead me to her new class. After planting a kiss on her forehead and a big wave, I turned and let the deluge flow.  The kind voice from the front desk and apologetic voice of the owner echoed around me.  I nodded, smiled and waved to them, promising to return in a few hours.

To be continued…

Sounds of Silence

Silence rips through the fabric of my time
deafening my ear drums into loud hums
It slices across the room of this old house
to dissect or to rouse old demons.

Then a whisper floats, through a window hole

It comes in a howl whipping up all that is fowl,
Other sounds creep in, tentative and slow at first.

A wall clock ticks away through its revolutions,

As I ponder at this evolution,

Sliding the window up a crack, I let more sounds creep in

The angry wind lashes at me, I persevere and let it seep in

At long last the crisp dies down
I feel the breeze ruffle all around

Cardinal and blue jays sing their spring songs

Sparrows and wrens chirp and sing along

They interrupt the silence as it breathes its last breath

Silence is silenced to its own death

Rumble descends from the sky as a super jet flies by

Piercing whistle screeches in with intermittent tracks clammerin’
Unseen dogs bark in an abyss behind dark, high fences

I crank up the sound system allowing more music to flow

Simon and Garfunkel spew, Sounds of Silence, I find myself renewed
My companion in ups and downs, forever we will be bound
Music I listen to most is the serene, silent sound.

Emptiness

All alone in an empty house
The blustery day ensues
Gray clouds hover
Leaving me feeling blue

Snow drifts and waves

Bare branches wither
A freight train whistles
Icy wind just whips

So this is the culmination

Of 9 years of occupation
22 years of habitation
Of Minnesota-ization

All alone in an empty house

Where memories were made
With many firsts and many lasts
For love, it never failed

a ray of sunshine beams

offering perspective
from the warm room
as it reveals all prospective

the evergreens flash a smile

into my sunny room
there will be new memories
in a new place, a new home.

An empty house it is today

But voices of past echo
I capture them in my heart
And together, away we’ll go.

Up-Rooted

It is time

to say goodbye

to the Polar Vortex

the mountains of snow

black ice drama

lakes and parks we know

 It is time

to gather all around

our bittersweet memories

of walk from the hospital

from obscure surgery

or with our bundle of joy

It is time

to keep it all alive

joys at the museums

applause of the theatres

little kids’ dramas

broadways and concerts

It is time

to pack up

all of the memories

bottle up all the tears

carefully carry them along

look ahead sans fear 

It is time

to Up Root

our warm, humble nest

put the memories in boxes

nestle them in our hearts

             and Re-Root in Texas.

It is just a matter of time…

and friendships extend beyond time.

 

Frosty View

We look far

Overlooking the near

We see beyond

Into the obscure

We peer to the future

Ignoring the here

We listen for high

While low we do not hear

We admire the distant

Neglecting near and dear

We see the sky

So blue and clear

Past the frosted imprints

Nature’s artwork so rare!

 
 
 
 
 

Vibrations

Sun spreads its radiance and I absorb it,

Moon glows in serenity and I sip it,

snowflake pirouettes in silence and I hear it,

dongs bang

bombs explode

atoms collide

universe vibrates into infinity. 

Radiance in her eyes

glow on his face

Their feet twirl together,

bells chime

trains whistle

Mars and Venus smile 
universe vibrates with infinite love. 

Luminous warmth in her innocence

glow of pride in theirs,

parents and baby do the dance of joy,

anklets jingle

rattlers rattle

cells combine

universe vibrates with infinite creation. 

One sun, one moon, one universe

nine planets, seven seas, one mother earth

204 countries, 809 islands, 7 billion humans,

our stars are aligned, our atoms gravitate

to merge or fuse

our paths cross, we walk a distance together and part ways

until…

another path

another lifetime

another space.

It was meant to be.

Just BE!

 

KISMET or DESIGN? - Conclusion

The morning of Ani’s first birthday had started as usual with cries for milk, demands for tea, and a push to get breakfast in her husband’s stomach before he rushed out.  She saw him ride away, on his bicycle, peddling off down the alley, her eyes glued to his back until he turned at the curb.  That was the last she saw him.  Her world came crumbling down when the love of her life, her friend, her husband, the sole breadwinner crashed into a lorry that sped up from a bend around the corner.

Blinking away tears wedged in the corners of her eyes, Radha watched the young couple.  Seeing her mother in the young bride on the platform, her eyes welled up again.  To support the two young girls, her mother had taken on odd jobs cleaning rich homes or taking in laundry.  She worked from sun up to sundown and lived with constant remarks from her mother-in-law.  The sister-in-law had moved out with her husband but the burden of mouths to feed fell on Kanta.  She was determined to get her daughters an education so they would be independent.  Whatever boon or curse future had in store for them, they should never be helpless.

Radha heard the whistle of her train and watched it come closer.  She grabbed her small suitcase and the medical case.  Boarding the train she settled in her corner for the six hour ride to her mother’s village.  Now old and bent over from sweeping so many homes for decades, Kanta lived in her village in her parent’s hut, the only thing left for them to leave for her when they passed on.  Ani lived with her and ran the local school and now Radha will join them as she planned to setup her medical practice.

 The end

KISMET or DESIGN?

The sun shone high and bright igniting the vast space below.  A petite figure sat on a platform bench bathed in radiance.  Her ticket in hand, Radha looked at the grand clock and muttered under her breath, two more hours.  She looked around the small station with its one window ticket counter and a single vendor.  On a round, foldable table he stocked bottled water, soda, gum, packets of chips and candy.  Beside him sat a large tea kettle with a few clay tumblers.

Radha turned her gaze to the other end of the platform where, on a bench sat a young couple.  The petite woman covered in her bridal adornment, her red veil extending over her head, her eyes down to her chin, huddled in her corner.  The young man sporting a groom’s turban sat next to her, his left arm extending protectively behind his bride on the bench.  They did not touch, but in the way his eyes gleamed, her shoulders relaxed next to him, Radha noticed their closeness.  A small trunk sat at her feet, which Radha assumed carried all of the young bride’s possessions, her memories of childhood, and mementos from home.  Perhaps a framed picture of her parents nestled between a hand-knit sweater, an anklet from her mother’s childhood, and a scarf from father’s wardrobe to carry his comforting aroma with her.  A larger trunk stood erect on the side with presumably wedding gifts and mundane possessions.

Radha observed as her eyes glazed over to another time, a different platform. Her parents had travelled alone once, soon after the grand wedding celebration in her mother, Kanta’s village.  Her mother had related the story numerous times about the wedding and how it had been the talk of the village.  An only child, Kanta had been given a lavish sendoff even as it meant lifelong debts for her parents.  After an entertaining wedding celebration, the marriage had succeeded just as splendidly.

First were the awkward, shy moments, then understanding and respect developing into friendship over the months.  When and how that friendship evolved into love, Kanta could not recall.  All she remembered was the sweet laughter, joyous smiles and constant sparkle in her eyes.

A daughter, Radha was born out of that love and soon another, Ani. Kanta recalled those days as her happiest as she reveled in the abundance of love that surrounded her.  She even smiled through the snide remarks of her mother-in-law or hummed over the sarcasm of her sister-in-laws while they all shared a roof and cooked in the same kitchen in a joint family.

To be continued...

New Beginnings

A rumble grew from the depth of the mountain belly and echoed through the forest.  Luminous water streaming down the mountain absorbed the rumble and carried it fluidly down to be immersed into the ocean.  The excursion was short and sweet as the echo skated over river rocks that had been smoothed to perfection over centuries of flow.  Journey of each element lucid, as energies mingled to offer allegiance to the salty air, reverberating lyrically, like a song rising high into blueness of the sky.

Music resounded in the forest where the hibiscus and orchids smiled, as butterflies danced around them and the Mocking birds chanted from a high branch.  It rang in ears of the frogs who croaked to the lizards, which slithered down to the army ants who marched it to the houses on the edge of the forest. The inhabitants on the coast absorbed the melody, before letting it immerse in the ocean to be soaked in with the sea creatures.  People danced on the soft sand and sang, with pride over their land and arrogance over their abundance, as they created more energy.  Charges ignited in the air that even the thunder gods began to pay attention.  Soft, white clouds shoved aside, darkness began to surround as rain-laden clouds hung over the island.

 

All creatures looked above and humbled, retreated to the sanctity of their abodes.  A torrent fell to the earth, cleansing the spirits, making way for fresh air and new beginnings.

Samsara - Conclusion

The bell chimed overhead as she walked in through the front door.  Heads buried in books all around, looked up to glare at a disheveled bag of bones enter the store.  The owner stepped up, shielding the distraught figure from stabbing eyes.  He guided her to the back room, sat her down on a chair, not far from the door she usually entered through.

She related her dilemma, between heaves and sobs.  He listened, offered his handkerchief and a glass of water.  He then reached out and put a strong hand over her head.

Soon she had a roof over her head, clean clothes and a full stomach.  Continuing odd jobs at the store, including shelving and other clerical tasks, she started school.  Every spare minute she spent in the aisles, her nose buried in history or classics.  Her benefactor mentored her through the intricacies of life, helping her grow until the day came when she headed out to college with her mentor’s help and blessings.

While her visions of the farm buried deeper within her, memories of her parents tucked in a special corner of her heart, prominent in her mind remained her gratitude to her mentor.  So it was not a surprise when she blew away a semester in her effort to be by his side in his time of need.  Her vision became blurred and her own life stood still the day she learned of his illness.  Last stages of cancer and no treatment recommended, she stood by his side, holding his hand for he had no one else.

With his last breath he made her promise.  Keep the vision alive! He pleaded.  As her tears escaped and flowed endlessly, her vision grew less blurred and she saw clearly at a future he had envisioned.

Armed with a degree and a bookstore to keep afloat, she blossomed over the years.  Three decades later, a familiar girl walked into the store.  Her cheeks sucked in, twinkle lost in her eyes she walked up to the counter to request a book.  A book she could not afford but needed to buy for her younger sister to stay in school.  Now a store owner, she gave the book for free and took the sisters under her wing…

Samsara – life is a full circle and our connections are beyond the earthly existence. The flow of our journeys is fluid and constant, ever evolving and revolving.

SAMSARA - Part One

She was alone in this world.  Not a soul to call her own.

Her parents had been farmers in their home country.  They toiled the soil with their young hands and worked hard until their stomachs growled louder and muscles throbbed longer.

Their own family perished in the famine.  Left alone on soil that won’t breed anymore they looked to the new world.  Their work-weary hands clutched together as they landed in their land of dreams, their eyes full of hope.

From shops to warehouses to factories, each family member labored day and night.  Three shared a closet in a crowded house in a bustling city.  Large chunk of their wages landed in their landlord’s pockets while they survived on bread alone.  Occasional dips in soupy broth added further nourishment.

First it was mother and her weakened lungs.  The dust on the factory consumed her until she could breathe no more.

Barely a year after her passing, father fell 20 feet.  The fall did not break him and he stood tall and strong.  The open wound from the fall went untreated.  First there was fever and shivers, then the seizures and the gibberish.  He spoke of mansions full of servants, bejeweled princess in her prettiest gown and a grand wedding with a charming prince.  They said he was delirious and it was his time.  She cried all night, with only her thread bare dress to wipe her tears.

She found herself alone on a footpath.  Caring hands over her head were all gone.  Roof over her head was taken away.  Through blurred vision she scanned the streets and blindly walked to the tiny store where she cleaned.


To Be Continued