They fly because they want to

They really don't have to fly.
Technically, they can get their food even on foot, they really don't have to wake up each morning, flap their wings and fly up in the sky.
Yet they do it.
Morning after morning.
Not because they have to
But because they like to.
Because it is what they are meant to.
They don't struggle and ponder over: What is the purpose of my life? What am I supposed to do in life? What am I MEANT to do in life?
They instinctively know.
They know that what gives them IMMENSE joy is what they were supposed to do in life. That is the sign of their calling in life.

We humans have the same instincts.
But somehow we fail those instincts time and again.
Yes WE fail them. By not listening.
So we sit and ponder over: What is the purpose of my life? What am I supposed to do in life? What am I MEANT to do in life?
We somehow don't believe that what gives us joy is what we are supposed to do in life....

I believe in an innate bond between birds, animals and humans. I get this feeling that they somehow know more about us than we do of ourselves. By that I mean, they are aware of the mystery that is humans. They kinda understand our shortcomings, human failings and forgive our atrocious behavior towards them. And I also believe that they are forever reaching out to us, to re-establish that bond that once was....(okay, now I can hear many a voice in the background saying I have gone bonkers)...

I have started spending my mornings sitting in the balcony of my house and watching the birds and I have realised that the more I sit still and make no judgments the more open they are about allowing me into their world -inch by inch, blink by blink, breath by breath....

I can feel that they are more forthcoming to come closer to me (they are still vary of the human that I am, but i can see their guards being dropped little by little)

They look me in the eye - for longer duration.
They just let me sit close by and allow me watch them, their life and their world...

It is fascinating...and I am sure there will come a day when I will begin to understand their language....just like how my mother understand the language of my dog and her plants...yeah, I know we are know as the `BONKERS FAMILY' amongst friends...:)

The tree in the foreground is a tiny speck if you look down from the top floor of the building in the background.
Yet it is much older than the building.
30 years and two moons to be precise.
It has seen much more life and people and events than the people living in the building.
It has so much energy vibrating in its bonsai-ed roots and leaves.
You'd feel it too if you had the privilege of getting acquainted with this miniature art in a tray, as I did.

Bonsai, ah, I was always mesmerized by it. But could never form an opinion about it. I was always confused about whether Bonsai was `good' or `bad' -to put it in simplistic terms. At one level, I loved everything about these miniature trees -it was pure art and as somebody put it, it was a joy to behold a gigantic aspect of nature in your palm. This particular tree usually grows up to 30-80 ft in height, I am told. That singular piece of information when juxtaposed with the form in hand -I am overwhelmed! But therein lies the other problem. I was always guilty of enjoying the beauty of it for two reasons 1. I had extremely vocal anti-bonsai friends who felt it was cruel to stunt the growth of a living species for human pleasure, in the name of art. 2. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a nagging thought how majestic it would've been to let these trees grow to its full potential, instead of stunting their growth with wires and pliers.

Yesterday, I had the chance to meet few Bonsai enthusiasts and see the pieces d'art. Yes, it truly was art. Up close they were beautiful and oh so `huggable'. And the enthusiasts were true plant lovers. They'd put their hand into a crevice on the wall, without any fear, to pluck a plant, bring it back home and care for it like a child for years and years and years. And wake up every morning and love it even more than the previous day. Who knows, if they had left the plant in the crevice it might have died one day.

As I stood there with the voice of my anti-bonsai friends echoing in my head and the beauty and love of the art and the artists, it suddenly struck me - There is no need to take sides; no need to sit on the fence; the universe is vast to hold all beliefs, opinions and contrasts. Under the sun, there is a special place for both the bonsai enthusiasts and the anti-bonsai group. And we need both.

I still don't know how its possible (I need to work that out in my head), but I know it a fact that I can truly enjoy and love bonsai trees and at the same time understand the point of view of my friend. Guilt and pleasure can co-exist in a harmonious manner in your life, if you put things in the right context.

This photograph was an advert for `Irony in life', on more than one level.

An impoverished looking `coolie' loaded the sacks of vegetables -back breaking labor.
He then wedged himself atop the sacks. Folded himself into that tiny space available, set to make the uncomfortable journey to the destination of the goods - again back breaking journey.

At the end of the day, he got a few rupees for his back-breaking work.

Barely enough to feed himself and his family a good meal.

But his back breaking work was literally breaking his back.

The pain was unbearable and the body fatigued beyond its limits.

Unless he did something about it, he wouldn't be able to get up the next morning. And if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to go to work. And if he didn't work, he wouldn't get paid. And if he doesn't get paid, he will not be able to feed the family.

And in order to do that, he needs to do something about the pain -on his body, in his heart, in his mind.

So, he takes his hard earned money and goes and buys himself some cheap liquor.

He drinks to forget his pain.

Then he looks down and realizes that most of his pay has vanished -now there's really hardly anything left to feed himself and the family.

So he buys himself some more `pain-killer-in-a-bottle' to forget the pain in his heart and mind- the mind that tells him how he's failed in life at all levels, gulps it down and goes home empty-handed.

Only to return to life, all over again the next day.

The story of most men, living below the P-line in our country.
I have seen many such stories play out in front of me....

To me, this is a poignant pic.
It is a lesson in life.
The pic is of a father by the coffin of his 10-year old son, Aaditya.
Aadi, was my neighbor. He suffered from NPC, a disease for which there is still no cure. (But, I know there will in the future)
I had written about Aadi and NPC, often (see the link below).
He was a gregarious child who spent the last few years on bed, unable to talk, walk or even eat.
Many a times, I have wondered, why did he come into this world. What was his purpose.
The same thought crossed my mind on the day of Aadi's funeral. What did he achieve in his short life. He had to discontinue his studies. He never really go out and play a sport. He liked watching cartoons, and towards the end he was not able to do even that. He enjoyed singing -his speech deteriorated slowly and one day he just stopped speaking. So, what did this little boy do in his life? Why did he come into this world? He spent only the initial years of his life smiling and running about and enjoying life as we expect a child to do. Then the rest of his life was spent in hospital rooms and on his bed at home. So, what was Aadi's life about?
This pic gave me the answer.
I know how the family has changed over the years because of Aadi. Oh, what strength, what courage, what dignity, what humanness and kindness....all because of Aadi....
So, it seems Aadi didn't come into this world to be a doctor (which is what he wanted to do. And his parents would've loved it to. Oh what the heck, his parents would've loved to just have him around till he turned 100)....Aadi's purpose was to transform the lives of his parents and sister and all those who came in contact with him, but just being Aadi...He was one of life's sweetest mysteries that I have encountered in my life.

http://sudha-pillai.blogspot.com/2008/12/brave-mother-son-duo.html

http://sudha-pillai.blogspot.com/2009/02/aadis-bday.html#links

Tendinitis is no fun! It was my constant, unwanted, companion for close to a month and more.

It managed to hurt me, scare me, give up hope and do a lot of things to me, which I thought I had become adept at handling.

There was physical pain that I had to deal with. Then there was the emotional pain, because it prevented me from doing what I like the most -photography.

I feared that I might never be able to click another pic. And that scared the hell out of me.

That's why this pic and the following one are important to me. Because, after weeks of not knowing whether I'd be able to click another pic, I shot these two pics -and that was a moment of reckoning for me.

And somewhere down the line, I lettendinitis take over me. Fear creeps in the minute you let something or someone scare you. And it takes you sometime before you realise that technically, you are the one responsible for your fears -it's all in the head.

These pics are also important for yet another reason. Once I got back to taking pics, got my tendinitis under control I had to deal with other thoughts -thoughts of `giving up'.

I said to myself, now there is no point in continuing with the 365 day project...there's been such a long break...blah, blah, blah....
when you are in doubt always have a serious chat with yourself. Thrash the matter out. And that's what I did.
And now, I said to myself...well, so what if I cannot finish the 365 day project in 365 days but take longer than that...that's when I truly, for the very first time in my life, understood the meaning of the saying: It's not the destination that matters, but the journey.
And so, here I am ready to continue my journey.

BTW, thank you all you lovely people who wrote to me -nice to know that people care even if we haven't ever met :)

There is a place in my head
that I go to ever so often.
A place in my head that's
been my go-to place
when I am sad
when I am angry
when I am dejected
Or even when I want
to drift away to
a happy place.

This place in my head
first came to me in the form of a dream
Or did it really?
This place in my head
has been with me for so long
that I can no longer tell the difference.
How does it matter
whether it is a place that I go to
with my eyes closed or
with my eyes open.

It is a beautiful place on a cliff
closer to the skies.
There is a river or sea below.
There is all but a one-roomed house
But it is not the house that I go to.
The go-to place in my head
is a patch of grass, close to the cliff
where I can lay flat on my back
with the vast skies above me
and the sound of water below me.

Every time I go to this place
I feel happy.
I feel connected.
To what?
I don't know.
All I know is that the
connection is right.
It is meant to be.

Over the years this patch of green,
on the cliff, under the canopy of the skies
has been my `happy-place'.

A place that is so much a part of me
that I can smell the freshness of the grass
feel the cool breeze and hear the sound of water below.
I can feel the warmth of the golden, evening sun
I can sometimes feel the early morning dewdrops on my skin.
I can tell you every little detail of that place.

Apparently, we all have our `happy-place' in our minds.
A place that is a refuge, a spa of sorts, that help you
rejuvenate. It's just that some forget to visit it in their
busy lives.

Some times a photograph tells me a story as I click it.
Some times a photograph tells me a story long after I have clicked it.
But it tells me a story, nevertheless!
This image belongs to the second category.

Every evening I check the pics that I have clicked and delete the ones which are no-good.

As I was about hit the delete button on this pic, something caught in the image caught my eye.

Something that made me tilt my head and see what the image
see what it was revealing to me
hear what it was saying to me.

Suddenly, a word popped out of the pic. LOVE

LOVE. That's what I found in this technically bad picture.

The minute I stopped berating myself over what a bad image I had clicked; or thinking what a nice image it would've been if only the people in the picture had stayed still, just long enough for me to get a stead shot.

The minute I shut out the analysis, the criticisms, the frustrations and disappointment of not clicking a perfect image -the minute I remained still- is when I was able to see LOVE in the image.

And I thought: How apt! It is the same in real life too! You can find love (or love finds you) the minute you shut out the noise outside and inside of you. Hmmm....

.ps: if you look carefully you will find two children, playing, all wrapped up in pure innocent love.