Mind’s eye

After 8 hours of bumpy ride on our third day at the safari, I decided to stay at the camp instead of joining Sean in an evening safari. We had left Enkawa camp at 6:15 in the morning after witnessing a gorgeous sunrise. We rode all the way to Mara river to see a glimpse of the great migration of animals crossing the river. We saw some dramatic escapadse as I wrote on one of my previous blogs. We waited for hours to see a leopard and finally came back to eat a late lunch after 2:30 pm. Caleb, our wonderful driver and guide, turned to us with his brilliant smile and said, “So, should we go out again at 4:30?” My enthusiastic husband said an enthusiastic ‘sure!’ The other couple in the van also committed to the 4:30 safari to see a sunset in the savanna. I declined to get on that van again. My back declined. Instead, I decided to spend the evening enjoying the vastness in front of my very own glamorous tent.

I wanted to take a nice hot shower, I wanted to take a book, sit outside on the porch and take in the beauty in front of me.

I did just that. After Sean left, I took a luxurious shower, washed my hair, moisturized my body, took my kindle and sat on the camp chair outside our tent to read. It is hard to focus on written words when nature revealed itself in front of me in its resplendent glory. I must have been immersed in the words of Abraham Verghese (I was reading The Covenant of Water) because when I looked up I was startled. Right in front of me there were some zebras grazing. You have to understand I am a city girl. I was raised in the congested city of Kolkata. I live in the suburbs of US now and I get to see my share of deer, fox, rabbits and birds, but I never thought in my wildest (haha, see what I did there?) dreams that I will be sitting close to zebras grazing right in front of me. I will always remember that moment.

The first day we checked into the camp, we saw three wildebeests resting under a tree right in front of our camp. That was a magical moment too till we realized that they come there every day looking for shade during the heat of the day. We became used to their presence, but had never seen zebras that close. When Caleb and Wilson, our driver and spotter, picked us from the airstrip in Mara, they said they will take us on a safari tour before taking us to the Enkewa camp. Within a few minutes we saw a male ostrich prancing not to far from us. We whipped our binoculars out to see the deep pink color of this hindside and his legs. Male ostriches, we were told, turn pink when they look for a mate. Right after that we saw herds of wildebeests and zebras. I remember that moment being full of wonder. We had never seen anything like this before. The next day, however, herds of wildebeests, zebras, topis. antelopes, wild buffaloes, and even families of warthogs would become commonplace. While we appreciated seeing them, we would consider them part of the landscape as we saw animals that did not make them as easily accessible as these others, like lions, elephants, jackals, serval cats, rhinos, cheetas, leopards….

There were so many magical moments. The first time I spotted something orange that turned out to be a pride of lions, or when Sean spotted tall heads of giraffes from a bush and we drove next to them as they calmly looked at us and continued eating. The sun radiating its last light on the scruffy grass of the savanna dotted generously by the dark bodies of wildebeests or striped zebras. The buffalo families glaring at our van in a hostile manner as we drove by them. The curious face of the momma hyena as it interrupted her feasting on a dead wart hog to look at us, the onlookers.

Since I read Wordsworth’s poem, I Wondered Lonely as a Cloud as a child, I ingrained within me these lines:

“For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

In my mind’s eye, I revisit these magical moments. On my walk this morning, my mind had wondered back to the moment when I first saw the ostrich right after getting off our little plane in Mara. The first sighting of lions. the mama rhino whisking her baby away to protect it from us, the little elephant learning to kick tufts of grass from earth to dislodge it, the baby hippo lying on top of mama, the little jackal waiting to eat the remains of the lioness’ kill, the baby cheetahs playing with each other and mom. I have photos. But I also have them in my mind’s eye. I seek upon these moments in solitude and relive them all over again.

Not a ‘happy heavenly birthday’ wish

I often see on social media that some of my friends who have lost their loved ones, post ‘happy heavenly birthday’ wishes to the departed souls on their birthdays. Today, on ma’s birthday, I can’t post that. She did not believe in so called heaven. An ardent reader and lover of Rabindranath Tagore’s work, she believed in what the bard said. Heaven and hell is right here, on earth and one experiences them in one’s lifetime. Spread kindness, spread joy, spread good feeling. Recognize and worship the divinity within you and in others. You be true and you will experience heaven in your soul. Anger, bitterness, hatred will delve you into the chasm of hell. One doesn’t have to die to experience either.

On her birthday, I am not wishing her a happy heavenly birthday. Instead, my hope is that her energy, which is indestructible, is lighting up the universe in brilliant hues today. I see the energy of both ma and baba in every sunset, in striking color of the fall foliage, in every shining blade of grass, in every wave crashing on the shore. I am sure there will be a stunning sunset in some part of the world today and I know my mother’s energy will add that extra shine to it.

A few of her loved ones celebrated her birthday when she was alive. Nature will celebrate her birthday today as her energy is one with this beautiful earth of ours.

On ma’s birthday, this is my wish – may all of us strive to be kind. May we have empathy. May we recognize and respect the divinity in each of us. These wishes seem like a naive dream as the carnage continues in the world. But what else can we do but hope?

Ma ceased to exist physically. She lives on in my heart.

PS: I read what I wrote and distinctly heard ma’s big laugh. “My energy will brighten a sunset?? I would rather sprinkle my stardust on shiny jewelry, clothes, brighten the lights of a shopping mall. I can spend a little energy on sunsets, flowers, and waves for your sake and your baba’s sake! Who are you writing about? Don’t you know me?” I can almost hear her laughing voice in my head.

Ma was very materialistic. She loved shopping, fashion, make up and lamented the fact that I did not. I love nature, she did not care for it. So all that I wrote about her energy brightening up the universe is what I want to happen. She is probably laughing her head off at the thought of it. But since she did the terrible job of gently going into the night, I get to do what I want on her birthday. Write whatever I want to happen. And I want nature to pour all its beauty into every corner for all of us to see. So there!

🤣🤣

Black eyes

I snapped at Sean when he was trying to compliment my beautiful brown eyes at the start of our courtship.

“My eyes are not brown! They are black.”

“I think they are deep brown.” He stammered after being rudely interrupted in his attempts to be romantic.

“NO! They are black!”

He did not contradict.

You have to remember that the standard of beauty in India lies in your fair skin, which my skin was not, blue black hair, which my hair was, and black, doe like eyes. While my eyes were not doe like, they were indeed black (or so I thought). I was not going to give up even one characteristic from the standard that I held myself to. No siree, my eyes were not brown, no matter how deeply you look into them.

Our bard, Rabindranath Tagore has immortalized black eyes in his song, ‘Kalo? Ta she jotoi Kalo hok/ Dekhechi tar Kalo horin chokh.” (Dark? No matter how dark she is, I have seen her black doe like eyes)

Recently, I was listening to popular Hindi songs from my teen years on Spotify when the famous song from the movie Baazigar came on – “Yeh kaali, kaali aankhen, yeh gore gore gaal…’ (these black, black eyes/ these fair, fair cheeks) and I remembered my insistence on the color of my eyes and poor Sean’s thwarted romanticism over them.

Later, I have come to accept that my eyes are indeed deep brown and they complement my brown skin quite well. I have looked quite intently into the mirror to truly see my eye color and conceded a win to Sean. Now I put brown on paper when I have to write the color of my eyes and smile at my husband when he looks at me with loving eyes as we listen to Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl on the radio.

A song

I could not fall asleep last night. My anxiety caused me to hyperventilate as I tried taking deep breaths. This morning I sat on my couch and saw the sunlight hit just the right way on our beloved indoor plant. The green of the leaves sparked joy.

I laced up my sneakers, plugged in the earbuds, turned on my Playlist to Rabindrasangeet and went out to walk in the woods. The cerulean sky, the cold on my face, the green grass despite the patches of frozen water on it, and the bare branches standing tall with the promise of life within it gave me peace. There were many birds out today, all puffed up against the cold, hopping on the fields, looking for grub. They took flight when I walked near them but did not go too far. I think I saw the bushy tail of the neighborhood fox in Sage’s path but I may be wrong. It was just a glimpse. I emptied my mind of all the anxiety to soak in the treasure in front of me. And it worked. My breathing calmed, my mind found temporary peace. I store these scenes in my mind to draw upon them when I have anxiety attacks as bed time approaches.

As I made my way home, baba’s favorite song came on my Playlist – Jokhon porbe na mor pa er chinho ei baate….

তখন কে বলে গো সেই প্রভাতে নেই আমি
সকল খেলায়…
সকল খেলায় করবে খেলা এই আমি, আহা
কে বলে গো সেই প্রভাতে নেই আমি
নতুন নামে ডাকবে মোরে বাঁধবে
বাঁধবে নতুন বাহু-ডোরে
আসব যাব চিরদিনের সেই আমি

A rough translation of this stanza is this:

Who says I am not present on that dawn. My being will be present in the universe. You will call me in different names but being is forever.

I have asked a lot of why’s and where’s since the dreadful month of May in 2020. It has been 8 months looking for peace, for meaning. I realized I find most peace (at least temporarily) if I believe the energy of my parents are now mingled with each and every aspect of beauty in nature that unfolds in front of me if I care to ‘see’. Baba sang this song a lot. I heard but did not listen. I listened today.

Meditation

A friend suggested I meditate to calm my mind during this distressing time. Since ma left, I have been sitting outside by the flowers every day in the afternoon when Kolkata falls asleep. And I have thought of ma. That has been my meditation. Some thoughts brought tears and some brought laughter.

As I sit outside, nature unfurls it’s palm to show me the treasure that I missed when life was normal. I watch the frenetic activities of the romantic cardinal couple who flit from one bush to the next whispering, rather loudly, sweet nothings to each other. The baby bunny who lives under the bush pokes out and then tries to hop away when it sees me. But my still form instills some confidence in it, so it stays out and twitches it’s nose in the air. Today, a little white butterfly flew close to me and I wondered if all these life forms are bringing ma’s energy to her daughter thousands of miles away? The sun-kissed, lime green leaves of trees have kept me company during these sessions, the cerulean blue of the sky sent a message to be patient. The beautiful flowers that friends have sent in their kindness constantly remind me that my mother would want me to appreciate the beauty of life.

I have meditated with my mother’s thoughts. I have not emptied my mind and focused on a chant, or a point on the wall. Before the frantic fight for baba’s recovery starts the next day, these quiet afternoons have been my solace.

I have not had time to meditate after my father’s passing. I believe my system is in a state of shock and the practicalities that face me now are keeping calm thoughts at bay. I know I need to focus on both their memories to feel some peace. The hurt, however, is too recent, too raw. I am counting on the age old adage, time will heal.

What’s good in my town?

My friend and fellow blogger whose blog site I encourage you to check out at http://theycallmetater.com writes about What’s Good in Tater Town. While I read his posts diligently and like what he writes, I love his posts about What’s Good in Tater Town the most. As I sat outside today and looked at the most beautiful blue sky, the hopeful green of early spring, fat bunnies in my back yard and the familiar ping of ball hitting a baseball bat in the baseball fields behind my house, I realized THIS was good in MY town. Yet my inside was clenched over anxiety about rising Covid cases in India, when can I go home, health and well being of my parents, my distance from them and thousand other thoughts. The constant anxiety is probably taking away years from my life. And then I thought about my friend’s post about what ‘his’ good is in his town. He enlists having dinner with his son and daughter as something good that happened, reading out in the deck is something good that happened, getting a free coffee from Dunkin is something good that happened. These are indeed good things that happened. He notices these, acknowledges these and writes them down. I too have these moments but I am so busy worrying that I gloss over them. And lose them in the process.

So I mindfully looked around me to honor the beautiful day. I looked at the new green and appreciated the life it promised. I had dinner with my family and I focused on what they said. Ryan had a weekend of fantastic swim meet, dropping time in all his events. That was good. Sahana got her first vaccine. That was amazing.

I think I will follow my friend’s example and write down what is good in my town. Who knows, perhaps I will inspire someone to look within their life to find the ‘goods’ like I was inspired?

Filling in with life.

The beauties featured in the photograph are the cynosure of my eyes right now. After Sage’s death, a dear friend gifted me a blooming orchid. She said seeing a new life bloom may soothe me after the loss. She was absolutely right. As each bloom unfolded its potential and spread its beauty, I was mesmerized. I sat by it thinking of my years with Sage but not in a melancholy way. The quiet splendor of the orchid gave me peace.

Another friend is a nurturer of indoor plants and succulents. The pictures of her plants on Instagram inspired me to buy a succulent for myself. Although I enjoy flowers immensely, I am sad to admit, I kill plants. Understandably, I was nervous to buy the succulent fearing I may be incapable of keeping even a hardy plant alive. My friend encouraged me. “I believe in you” she said. I ventured out and bought 3 succulents. I kept them on the sunny ledge of the balcony where Sage used to sit and reign over his domain. I added 2 basil plants, a mint plant and 2 pepper plants to the mix. Now Sage’s ledge is completely covered by new life. I like to sit by them, savor their quiet beauty and think of him.

This was his space. He ruled his world from here.

I managed to keep all the plants alive this year. They seem to be thriving. So I got ambitious and bought more succulents for inside my house. I work and read next to them now, glancing over often to marvel at how beautiful they are, how full of life. Sahana bought some baby ones for her room and now we have quite a collection of quiet yet vibrant life in and out of our house.

Sage left us with emptiness and quiet. The plants fill up that emptiness with their lives. They maintain the quiet. I don’t mind it. Their radiating beauty soothes my soul.

Lovely! Does it HAVE to be fair?

Will you all please join me in raising our fists in the air and shouting ‘Gender equality!!! Finally!!’ A fairness cream company has come up with a fairness cream for men and it promises results in just four weeks of usage. Say goodbye to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ good looks! That is so yesterday! Today’s mantra is ‘fair and handsome!’ I should have been happy reading this. It deals with the double standard that Indian society has – women have to be fair to be considered a beauty, yet men? Well, they are men, right? The sex itself makes them a step above! Nothing else matters or should matter. Now, they have to be fair to be considered beauti…oops, handsome. That’s politically correct.

I have never quite understood the fairness fetish in India and the other Asian countries. I have seen and have been subjected to good-natured ridicule about skin color. It hurt in the teenage years when one really likes to be admired for their physical attributes. But as I became older and wiser, I became optimistic that as India opened up to the world more, it would realize that the average skin tone of Indians is actually an enviable attribute amongst many in the fair-skinned population. People would also realize that skin color is something in your genes. You can take care of it, keep it blemish free as much as you can, but it would be difficult to change your skin tone. I understood that the concept of ‘fair skinned beauty’ is deep-rooted and will take time to completely disappear. The cinema, the media, the music all play to the concept ‘fair skin equates beautiful’. Hindi songs warn women not to go out in the sun, not because one will get skin cancer but the skin will darken – ‘Dhoop mein nikla na karo roop ki raani, gora rang kaala na ho jaye!’ I was told, many times, not to drink tea. Tea will affect the liver, mal functioning of liver will darken my skin further, my prospects of marrying, already low, will dwindle. You get the logic? It may be appropriate to mention a personal experience here. I went for an interview for a sales job in a renowned air conditioning company, right out of college. The job I was interviewing for entitled selling air conditioners in the sweltering heat of Kolkata. The manager, after looking at me and my resume, asked if I was up for this kind of job since my skin would darken under the sun and I would have trouble attracting a mate with my darkened skin. I didn’t even realize how inappropriate the comment was at the time, I was brain washed since childhood that dark is bad, hence the comment seemed normal. I am still embarrassed that I didn’t protest such mindset then. There are exceptions, but they only prove the rule, unfortunately. However, the eternal optimist that I am, I hoped this perception would fade away as my ‘shining India’ shone brighter.

Then I read this recently: “While these ads (apart from boosting the sales of the products), have invited flak for promoting insecurity and discrimination among women, the latest to join the long list of fairness products is something that can be described as ludicrous at best. The product, that has sparked an online debate, is a fairness cream for women’s private parts!

The ad, that went on-air some time back, has been described by the online world as the “ultimate insult to women”. It shows a Katrina Kaif look-alike who has a glum expression on her face, as her husband is more interested in the newspaper than in her. But once she cleans herself up (with that product), she suddenly becomes the object of his affections. The Twitterati is buzzing with comments slamming these products. “This is the ultimate insult. Skin whitening for your vagina,” Rupa Subramanya tweeted. While @ThePunjew, wrote, “What a bummer, there’s no shade card yet to monitor fairness progress!”

The above excerpt is from an article in The Times of India ‘Outrage over fairness cream for private parts’. ‘A new TV ad for a personal hygiene cream, that promises ‘fairer’ private parts for women, has been slammed by netizens.’

Fairness cream is a disgrace, I think. It is demeaning and insulting, to say the least, to women and now men. Some of the famous film personalities have refused to endorse tobacco and alcohol advertisements, yet many movie icons continue to appear and endorse fairness creams. I agree fairness cream doesn’t inflict the same amount of damage in one’s body as tobacco and alcohol but how about the mind? How about society? How about dowry that the grooms ask for a dark-skinned bride? I have watched with amazement as a father joked about how he has set aside a huge sum of money for dowry for his dark-skinned daughter. He joked, ‘When the groom’s family mentions her darkness, I will hand them the first bundle of rupees, when they mention her nose, I will hand them the second bundle!’ All this in front of the girl, who sat there with a slight smile on her face. Isn’t this SOMEWHAT akin to selling the girl, her skin tone, her features?

I spoke to an amazingly beautiful model whose only regret in life was her dark skin. She wishes to be fairer in the next life. ‘What are you talking about? You are beautiful!’ I told her, amazed. ‘Nah, I am too dark!’ Her response. When a baby is born in a family, the question about his/her skin color is asked at the same time as whether s/he is healthy. If the baby happens to be dark-skinned, the comments generally are ‘The color is dark BUT the features will be good.’ I am waiting for the BUT to change to AND! When my babies were born, the hope amongst many of my friends and family were the children get my white husband’s skin tone! I still remember a question asked after Ryan’s birth, by a friend’s mother, ‘The baby is like Sean, I hope? Fair skinned?’

The pancake make up ladies lather on their faces to whiten them is very disheartening. Glowing skin of any hue is beautiful, unnatural white skin is not! I was subjected to such makeup during my Indian wedding, much to the dismay of my white husband. ‘What have they done to you?’ He exclaimed. ‘Color equality for the day, darling. Deal with it!’ I said.

I recently spotted a popular fairness cream in an Indian grocery store in the US. I was disappointed to see the fairness fetish has transcended geographical boundaries. The store owner told me the sale of the product is very high. To me, that was surprising. I started appreciating my skin color more after I came to this country where people pointed to my arms and said, ‘That is what WE want.’ Hence the tanning salons, hence the sun bathing. I thought Indians would feel proud of their naturally tanned skin color but many seem to want the fair skin of the Caucasians. Entry fairness creams. Hackneyed but true, the grass truly is greener on the other side.

Bottomline: India, please wake up and smell the coffee. The mindset regarding fairness, instead of improving, is taking a terrible, demeaning, sadly humorous turn. It is invading the privacy of women. Spend more money on gynecological check ups to prevent ovarian cancer, educate women on women’s health and check for breast cancer. Please do not worry about the COLOR of women’s privates. There are so many more things in the world to worry about. Do trust me on this one!

Get out of my hair!

I grew up with the usual insecurities that girls grow up with, my looks, height, skin tone, body mass etc, but not my hair! Oh no! I was born with a head of luxurious, full-bodied, bluish black, shiny hair. My mother decided to increase the volume and beauty of it by shaving off my head five times in my childhood. I had no say, of course, but had to suffer in silence in school when girls teased me about my shining, bald head! But I did have the utmost satisfaction of informing her, as I got older and wiser that shaving heads did nothing to grow one’s hair any thicker! Don’t fight me on that one, I am not going to hear it!

My mother was very proud of my hair. She would tell anyone who listened how people crowded around me in hair salons complimenting the thickness of it and how they wished they had hair like mine. I said in my mind, ‘You can have it! Take it all!’ I, the black-haired Rapunzel, was not happy with my headful of hair at all. I had to wash it, brush it, detangle it….and I have already mentioned in one of my earlier blogs that I am inherently lazy!

I kept my hair long because even the thought of cutting it short was somewhat sacrilegious in my extended family, ‘What? You want to cut off that beautiful hair! People would die to get hair like you!’ So I kept it long in a careless topknot on my head!

I met my husband and quite predictably, he loved the hair despite my exaggerated eye rolls and long sighs. When my daughter was born, she liked to clamp her little fists around my long earrings and pull with all her might. I got rid of earrings. Then she targeted my long hair! Finally, I found a credible reason to get rid of it. Don’t want the baby to put my hair in her mouth now, do I? On a whim, I went and chopped it all off. I will never forget Sean’s face when he saw me that day! He recovered quickly and said I looked great, whatever I wanted to do with my hair was simply fantastic. I look gorgeous either way! What can I say, I got a good one!

I asked him to back me up when I faced my mother with the new do. As soon as my mother saw me, her face fell. She couldn’t talk for a few seconds. Good thing I was an adult, a married woman and a new mother, or else I would have been grounded till kingdom come. When she got her speech back she turned to her baby granddaughter and said, ‘Now you have two daddies!’ Interestingly enough, my mother sports a very stylish page-boy hairstyle. Sean, my knight in shining armor, came to my rescue as usual. He gave this classic line to my mom, ‘She loves your look so much, she wanted to look just like you!’ I gave him a gratified look which said, ‘I knew there was a reason why I married you!’

I visited Kolkata with my super short haircut, only to be reprimanded severely by my uncles, aunts, grandparents. In india, long hair is a sign of beauty and I did away with that! In fact, a well meaning neighbor while lamenting my decision came right out,’Why did you do this? That was your only sign of beauty!’ Sean and I laughed so hard and appreciated the lady’s forthrightness!

We were living in India then, and I couldn’t withstand the pressure any longer. I let my hair grow back. Life got busy, I didn’t have much time to take care of it, it was either pulled in a ponytail or tied it on top of my head while I raised kids and held the fort. Then I started noticing long strands of gray! And that was the last straw! I was not going to go around with long salt and pepper hair. Some women carry it off well, unfortunately, I am not one of them!

I turned forty and made a momentous decision. I will wear my hair short for the rest of my life! I did just that and this time my husband declared that he loved my short hairstyle. What else could he do, poor guy! That was all I needed. My mother, miraculously, came around and said I looked fine with short hair! Oh, the joy! I feel liberated and free from the long tresses which I had to carry around unwillingly for a major part of my life. Friends from India still try to exert pressure by saying long hair gave me a softer look, short hair makes me look ‘stern’! Or “You looked so much better with long hair, please grow it back!”I always threaten them that if they don’t back off, I will write a blog on my hair and make them read it. I have done good on my threat. So there….