The Cycle of Life: day 33 of #100happydays

A few months back, I had bought marigold flowers by weight before a festival. A couple of days later, the seeds ended up in my pots. Last week, orange flowers graced my balcony. Today, I harvested the first round of seeds from the plant I grew from seeds myself.

Who knows how much longer this circle of life will continue. If sometime in the future,  my balconies will get taken over by grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the plant I now have, their relationships so complicated, nobody can untangle them.

Plants teach us that beauty comes to those who have faith.

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Floral Bling- Day 25 of #100happydays

I don’t normally buy flowers, but when I do, I make sure I buy only marigolds. Because once you are done enjoying them, you can take the flowers apart, shake out the seeds, and plant them. If you are lucky, some of them sprout, take root, grow and become plants themselves. And if you are very, very lucky, a few of them even give you a new crop of flowers.
Can anything be more satisfying that seeing the creation of something out of what would normally be thrown away? Can anything look prettier than orange floral bling in your balcony?
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Saffron, white and green make up the colours of the Indian flag- my balcony celebrated Republic Day in its own way!

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Their "lot in life"

Over the last few days, three friends have spoken to me about “lot in life”. To hear them speak, their life has been one of constant misery, with no visible end to their suffering in sight. Not for a moment am I belittling their problems- unless you experience it yourself, you can have no idea what another person is going through.

Yet, the same people also have so much to be thankful for, all of which they take for granted. Yes, it is natural to want more. But when we have so much, shouldn’t we also be counting our blessings? 

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This is the fifth year that I am going to be a part of NaBloWriM. The writing mojo seems to have deserted me, but by elaborating either on a quote that touches my heart, or by attempting to capture a fleeting emotion, let me see how long I last.

There are decent people everywhere

The cab-driver who drove a few miles out of his way to return the phone I left behind in his cab. The man who bought a bottle of water for my son when he was carsick, and disappeared before I could even thank him. The shopkeeper who called me back and gave me the change I forgot to take. The people who went out of their way to help me when I had a nasty fall.

Why do we presume people are out to get us? If only we look for them and acknowledge them, there are decent people everywhere.

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This photograph of the rear window of a cab was taken during one of my numerous rides across the city. All cab-drivers are presumed to be cheats, but this was one of the several who didn't try to to fleece me. The photograph, taken on my phone-camera in March forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Spot the Difference

While we were waiting for the bill after lunch at our favourite restaurant, the younger one trotted off with his brother’s camera and returned a few minutes later with a satisfied smile on his face. Not to be outdone, his brother claimed the camera that is rightfully his, and disappeared on a photoshoot. After signing the charge-slip, I paused for a moment at the door, took out the camera and snapped a quick photograph.

It was only while downloading the photographs that I noticed that the same scene had captured all our imaginations. Can you guess who took which one?

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See how you fared:

I - Thing One - the (nearly) nine year old

II - Thing Two - the six and a half year old

III - Biggest One - the mother

Follow your passion

When I look at some of the people around me, I am amazed. The banker who’s taking her passion for food to a new level by starting a gourmet food catering business. The full-time mommy (and runner) who’s just qualified as a sports nutritionist. The engineer who is a full-time fitness instructor. The software engineer who makes and sells jewellery.

A bunch of women who apparently have nothing in common except the fact that they all chose to move away from conventional career paths and explore unchartered trails. You don’t have to wait till you retire before following your passion.

And be Inspired

Citius, Altius, Fortius.

Men and women who go beyond the realm of imagination. Who push themselves to the limit. Who prove that impossible is only just a word.

Talent yes. But years of hard-work. Of persistence. Of single minded dedication. Of dreaming a dream, and making it come true- or not.

Whether they win medals or our hearts, or both, the Olympians are a special breed. They are heros, and teach us that we can be too.

I no longer let my kids watch television, but the Olympics is another thing. They can watch all they want. And be inspired.

The greatest gift

“But I can’t do it”, my son told me.

“Of course you can.” I didn’t particularly want him to jump off branch, but even less did I want him to walk away from a challenge he set for himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He closed his eyes, pushed himself off, and landed perfectly on his feet.

“How did you know I could do it?”, he asked me much later.

“Because my parents taught me that if you believe you can do something, you can do it”, I told him.

The greatest gift a parent can give a child is self-belief.

My Son, My Inspiration

Not only is he the youngest in the class, my (nearly) six year old is also the smallest. That also makes him one of the slowest, even if not actually the slowest. By the time he reached the finish line of the 100 meters race in school, the winners had been declared. And yet, there he is flying over the tape- giving it his best, because he could not do otherwise.

My Son is going to be my Inspiration when I run the marathon on Sunday.  I hope I can give it my all, and do so with a smile.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

What a child wants

“Don’t tell anyone, but you know what happened today…”. Every night, thus start my son’s everlasting tales.

But a year back, it wasn’t so. A year back, he was withdrawn, defensive and unhappy. His grades were poor, he was clearly not happy in school and I had no way of reaching out to him. All I could do was wonder what went wrong….. till that day when the dam broke, and he articulated his fears.

My son’s far from perfect, but he’s friendly, happy and confident.

Sometimes, all a child needs is for his mother to be there for him.

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Flashback 2011- July

A rolling stone gathers no moss. Moss, to me, is symbolic of parents who are there for their kids. Of parents who give their all for their children. Of my parents. And of the parent I wish I could be. This photograph, taken in July, forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

Turning Forty

If I meet my 30 year old self, what would I tell her?

Would I tell her that 2 children and 10 years later, she will be fitter, stronger and slimmer than she dreams possible? Would I tell her that every difficult choice she makes will only lead her to yet another one, but that the journey will be well worth it? Would I tell her that she’ll not recognise who she will eventually become?

I would tell her all that. And one more thing I would tell her- to cherish who she is, because she is worth being cherished.

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 Flashback 2011- February

The photograph, taken on Valentine's Day never fails to remind me that while diamonds may add to a girl's charms, nothing makes a woman as beautiful as experience. This photograph forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

If I had the year over....

If I had the year over, would I have done things differently? Would I have put my foot down earlier and more firmly? Suffered fools a lot less? Would I have spent less time with that person who proved a false friend, and been more sympathetic to the one who genuinely needed me? 

Would I have abstained from ordering that takeaway that gave all of us an upset stomach?

With the benefit of hindsight, one can always do things better. But I wouldn’t really want to change too much; I am happy with the way things turned out this year. 

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Flashback 2011- January

On a cold winter morning in one of the most inaccessible parts of rural India, I watched the sun go down behind a temple. As the colours faded into black and white, for a moment, I could see my entire life in stunning clarity. This photograph taken in January forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

Setting the right goal

I gave my all in the race. Shattered a barrier I have been struggling to break for years. I should have been happy, and proud. Instead, I collapsed in a heap and burst into tears. The race had taken everything out of me, and I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Nothing had registered. Not the scenic route, not the cheerleaders, not the live bands. Nothing. All I had been aware of was my pace and the distance left to cover. Was this what I wanted?

Before you work to a goal, it’s prudent to set the right one.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Shadow-ghosts

“… and then you know what, the shadow-ghost came up behind me, and said…”. Seeing my attention stray, my son broke off hurriedly, before accusing me, “Mamma, you are not listening to what I am saying.”

“Yes, I am listening”, I lied. “Get on with your story.”

He stamped his feet in annoyance. “It is not a story. It actually happened.”

“Yes, of course it did. I am listening. Tell me what happened next.”

“And then,……”

I wonder what kind of precedent I am setting by accepting shadow-ghosts knocking over lunch-boxes as an acceptable excuse for an uneaten school lunch?

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

"I just don't have the time"

“I just don’t have the time!!!” How often have I heard others say it, and responded with a “if you really want to do something, you can make time for it.”

But you know, you can’t. There are only so many hours in a day, and you need many of them for sleep and other activities needed to survive. At some stage, you do run out of time. To add something new, you have to take something else away. Unless you do what you do without passion.

I wish I could, but I just don’t have the time to write.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Daring to make mistakes

“And what if I make a mistake?”, my colleague asked me, when I delegated something important to her.
“We’ll take care of that”, I replied. “Unless you make a couple of mistakes, how are you going to learn?”

Two days later, she made a mistake that I knew would take me a couple of hours to rectify. My instinct was to yell at her, but I held myself back. After all, wasn’t it I that had told her she shouldn’t be crippled by the fear of making mistakes?

I was right. By making mistakes, she’s learnt faster than I expected.
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

And when I signed up for NaBloWriMo, I was sure I was making a huge mistake. For someone who had taken an unintended sabbatical for nearly three months, wasn't it ridiculous to commit to blogging everyday? And yet, I managed, because how can you finish something, unless you first have the courage to start.
Thank you for being with me.

The intrinsic goodness in us all

Running on my normal route yesterday, I took a nasty tumble and bruised my hand. I continued running, but took a longish detour to the only water-tap in the area so I could wash out the wound.

I took nearly 20 minutes longer to return to the starting point. “Where had you gone? I was starting to get worried about you”, said the man at the milk-booth which I normally use as my pit-stop between loops.

I don’t know him, but he was still watching out for me. Did I fall, so my faith in intrinsic goodness could be renewed?
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

It takes all kinds....

It was 4:45 in the morning. The guy and I reached the cab-stand at almost the same time. For nearly ten minutes, there were no cabs, and when one finally arrived, we decided to both get on.
He was reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Had clearly spent the night at a party that had just broken up.
I was in my running clothes, rested after a good night's sleep.
His previous night was ending. My new day was beginning.
Each thought the other insane- from their point of view, each was right. Takes all kinds to make a world.
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Out of Control

Every night, I go to bed telling myself that I have got my life in control. Every morning, I wake up determined to find time for everything I want to do. Every afternoon, I realize my life is still spiraling out of control. Every evening, I acknowledge that the day did not go quite the way I wanted but that tomorrow would be just fine.

The cycle continues.

Maybe it is time to prioritize; to take a blog-break, so that is one less thing left undone.

What does it say that on first attempt, this post is exactly 100 words?
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

But that cant' be...

"Which is the odd man out- Brazil, USA, North America, India?", asked the seven year old.
"North America. Because the rest are all countries", I replied.
"Wrong. Guess again."
"India, because India is not in America?"
"No! The answer is Brazil. Because Brazil is south of the equator."
"But India and North America are right too", I argued.
"But that can't be", he said. "How can one question have three answers?"

I wanted to tell him that most of the really important questions don't have a single correct answer. But then I let him enjoy his childhood a little longer.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.