Y.O.L.O ( You Only Live Once ) BUT.....

You only live once BUT life gives you seconds: second chances, second thoughts and second helpings.

Life is not about just once life is about this once and more to come. Life gives you those nasty phases then it gives you seconds. It gives you a second sibiling, it gives you a second chance at making up for the low grades in school, it gives you the chance and choices to love again , to feel free again, to be yourself again.

Life gives you alot more than you realise. From true friends to true loves, from size 0 to size 10 life gives you all. 

From the start till the end, life is always giving us choices and chances , its upto us what we do and how we see it.

You Only Live Once BUT life gives you more than once .....

Rubik's Cube

" Life's a Rubik's Cube, don't try and solve it. Sit back and admire the colours"

"Life's a Rubik's Cube, If Rubik could solve it , so can You".

WHY?

Why does the heart love what is not good for it. Why do the eyes long for that glimpse which is merely an illusion, why do the ears wait for those words which hold no meaning and are not true. Why do these arms crave for the warmth of those that will not comfort them for too long? Why is the there always that one person who will always have your heart. The pain of love is that sweet poison that will last forever. Love is the hardest to let go off be it first or the last, love lasts forever…..

The comfort of being lonely is like the comfort of the pain of that dagger that has been in your back for so long now that the pain has become a part of your existence.
The desire to trust has been lost in the attempts of trying not to.
Running has become a part of the routine, what we run from we don’t know. One day we look back and see that we have run so far that we don’t know where we belong and who we truly were. We long for that child within us to smile and laugh in a world that has no sorrows. To walk light and proud like the shoulders have no weight, to walk in the sand of life freely without worrying about dirty feet. To soak in the sun fearless of getting burnt, to jump into the ocean of love without any inhibitions.
It is so easy to mend a broken toy, how does one mend a broken heart.
Time they say heals all wounds but who will take away the scars.
The deeper you dig the more dirt you find, this is a superficial world a life based and judged on what lies above , commodity is the magic word. Riches, sex and love have become commodities to fulfill desires and wants, we have forgotten about needs and requirements. The world has become a selfish and ruthless body and I’m struggling to cope with it. This is not a world I dreamed of it is not a life I wanted, however who we to decide are. The path is chosen we are puppets attached to invisible strings. We think we are free and powerful. We are so wrong and so far from the light.
Ask the tree under which Buddha became The Enlightened One what knowledge is, ask the swan what beauty is ask the owl what wisdom is. Ask the turtle what pace is. Stand in front of the ocean and you will know what great is. Stop gloating in the warmth of your own existence look at the horizon and you will know how insignificant your being is.

THREE BLACK BAGS

Broken bangles, scattered hair,
Smudged colors all over her face,
Tears left their mark ages ago,
SHE thought SHE was loved,
SHE thought SHE was brave,
Now she leads her life like a used rug
That just lies in a corner
What did SHE do to deserve this
Cant SHE run, can SHE never save herself……………………………………….


“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage, excuse me miss, are you alright?” The Customs Officers’ voice echoed in her ears as she shook herself back to reality. The airport looked like a happy place. She was happy, unlike the last time she was there. Once again she was leaving the country, her mother, her home, her family. This time it seemed different, she felt free yet at the same time she felt numb. Life was full of beginnings and endings, however, the two go hand in hand and are always linked by that thin chord called hurt, pain, desire, wounds and scars left behind by the latter. Who would have known this better than her, at twenty two life had taught her to think like a middle aged person, life had made her learn and react. It was playing games with her, it had taught her the art of being comfortably numb, so numb that it almost confused her to the point of being dazed.
Exactly a year ago she had packed her whole existence of twenty one years into three black bags. Her parents had chosen a suitable match for her and she, like a good daughter, had agreed with their choice. She was excited, like any bride to be. She was a little worried. She had wanted a career, a different life than what she was going to be living from now on, but she was happy, that’s the way life was meant to be from what she had seen.
Her mother had brought her up single handedly, with an alcoholic father being of no help. She had been taught to be fiercely independent and had been made to work towards a career. Suddenly none of this seemed to matter anymore, she was now to be a good daughter and then after a good wife.
Her only fear, her only worry was, “what if he is like my father? What if he doesn’t love me? What if he mistreats me?”, all this she made her self believe could not happen to her as well. God would surely not be that mean again. Her mother had suffered enough, maybe this marriage would help sort out her troubles as well. Money was never a problem in her life, it was the lack of love and she hoped and wished that her husband to be would fulfill this need, the comfort factor, the feeling of being looked after, the feeling of being respected and above all, wanted.
It was a grand wedding, everyone was drinking, dancing and making merry, everyone was happy. However, something was missing, something just did not feel right. It was time to leave, time to say her goodbyes, most newly wed brides cry before leaving their parents home, but her eyes were dry, she was numb, uncomfortably numb.
They had now been married for a week, she was yet to see him smile at her, she was waiting to be hugged with love, she was waiting to be touched with affection and caressed with passion. She had always imagined her first time to be magical and full of passion and love, maybe she had read too many love stories, and maybe she was a dreamer. Maybe all this was just a paragraph that was put in stories to make them sound good. This surely wasn’t what reality had in store for her. Sex was a task, she was made to feel like an object, one not of affection, her body was admired in a fashion that made her feel sick. Every touch made her soul want to cry out for help. She had lost the most preserved bit of herself to an animal, love was a myth and life was now a burden.

“Leave, get out now, leave my house now”, this all that she got to hear from him. Just because she was not ready to share him she had to suffer his abuse, his torture. There was no one to help, nobody to confide in. Each smile was a façade, each giggle was put on. Her eyes reflected the sadness in her soul, the pain in her heart.
The move took courage; she packed her bags with the bare minimum and left. Was it all over or was it yet to start? “This too shall pass”, said her mother, whose comforting embrace pulled her back to life. Insanity was knocking on her door only she knew how she was avoiding it. Death was welcoming her with arms wide open, only she knew how she was ignoring it. One slight cut and it would flow out of her in a stream of deep red, this torturous life. Something kept holding her back, she didn’t know what.
Blames, names, mean and horrible games, it took all that she had to end it all. It was finally over. She was free, free from the binding chains of a torturous marriage, free to live again.
She packed her life to start over again, in her Three Black Bags. Life was beginning again. SHE had saved herself.
“Excuse me maam, please identify your baggage”.
“Oh! I am sorry, these are mine.” “Yes these THREE BLACK BAGS are mine”.

SHE

Broken bangles,scattered hair,smudged colours all over her facetears left their mark ages agoSHE thought SHE was lovedSHE thought she was bravenow SHE leads her life like a used rugthat just lies in cornerwhat did She do to deserve thiscant She run,can She never save herself

Mira and I

These beckoning mountains, these swirling roads, guarded by the huge pines always take me back in time. The smell of the pine, the chill in the air fills up my soul makes my head breathe. Each exhale destresses me, each inhale rejuvenates me. The mountains seem to welcome me with arms wide open. Since childhood I have been frequenting these mountains however, this time like all times seems different. I swerve my jeep to the left and I cross that familiar little shack, it still looks the same, the broken board still adorns the door. It reads “Hot Chai”, painted with black paint. Next to the shack is a little hut with mud walls, the small henna hand prints still decorates the wall. I park my jeep and light a cigarette, and order a hot tea, the breeze is soft and chilly. The old man brings me my tea and greets me the same way he has been greeting me ever since I have known him and these mountains. He hands me the tea and a small plate with a chunky sweet cake on it and smiles as he says, “Mira is expecting”, and stands there beaming with joy. I’m shocked and my cigarette shakes between my trembling fingers. I somehow manage to smile and congratulate him. As I sit on the bonnet of my jeep and sip my tea I glance at the small henna hand prints on the walls. That day is as clear as a fresh mountain morning in my memory, it was Mira’s wedding and as per tradition she had a beautiful henna design on her palms and like all other young brides of the village she too left her hand prints on her parents house walls.
Mira the thirteen year old angel who had helped me realize how precious each moment in life is and how easy it was to smile. Last year I had given up on happiness and had made pain and loneliness my best friends. Like each summer I had driven to my cottage in the mountains but that summer was different I had come with an intention to give up on life but a lot changed. I still remember I had stopped for tea here like I always do and I saw this little girl playing with her doll. She was dressing it up in red bridal attire. She was a happy little girl and I envied the stress free smile on that child’s face and missed the good old days when I was a teenager. She paid no attention to me staring at her and suddenly when she saw my camera she came running and smiled as if posing and waiting to be clicked.
The next few days Mira visited my cottage every morning as she brought down the milk and other supplies from her uncle’s shop. We became good friends, in fact that summer she was my only friend. I had lost all faith in God and in life. However, when I saw Mira visit the temple everyday and kneel down and pray I secretly asked God not to let her down as he had let me. Mira was full of life we would talk about her friends back home and how she would help her mother knit and how they would sing when it would rain. She told me how she loved going to school but had to discontinue because she was a girl.
It was her birthday so we went to the local sweet shop and got fresh hot sweets and her favorite mango candy, she was so happy that she started to cry, and that is when she told me about her parents, they had sent her to her uncle as they were very poor and could no longer feed another stomach. Her tears pierced my soul, they shook me up and made me realize that my anger towards my own parents were uncalled for and my anger was meaningless there were people much younger than me with worse situations and they still smiled.
I rang my parents that night, after six months and told them I missed them and that I was coming home soon. I started teaching Mira at home, she was a part of my daily routine and while clicked pictures on our daily walks she chased butterflies and collected flowers.
Mira had taught me how to live again, she was my little angel.
Three days had passed and there was no sign of Mira, I got a little worried and went down to the tea shop to check. Her uncle informed me that she had gone to meet her parents and say goodbye to them. What he told me next shook the ground beneath my feet. He told me that Mira was getting married to a rich landlord’s son. I was shocked and angry, how could they do this she was just a child, why did they do this?
Once again the familiar feeling of hatred towards this unjust world crept into my heart. I must have smoked the entire night trying to fight the anger and the tears.
However, the next day after meeting Mira I felt lighter and much better. She was glowing with joy and was very happy, she was talking to me about the color of her bridal dress, the sweets that would be there at the wedding and how she would have her own house and food every night. She was happy and seeing her happy I smiled. I had tried very hard, argued with her uncle and the village folk, telling them that this was unfair and was a crime, nobody seemed to care they thought I had lost my marbles and told me that this was the way of life in these mountains.
I thought I had seen everything in life until that day. After seeing Mira happy I did not push the issue further. She made the most beautiful bride and her smile was more magical than ever, tiny henna filled hands and feet made her look so grown up so suddenly.
I stood there throughout the ceremony still awestruck and amazed and suddenly I felt a cold little had touch mine. Mira had come to say bye.
One year has passed and it seems like yesterday, I finish my tea and drive on to the next village to visit my old friend Mira, now a mum to be.

GOLD RIMMED SPECTACLES AND RED SHOES

The past five years seemed nothing in comparison to these last five minutes . I had waited patiently all these years but somehow these last few minutes seemed to be taking forever . I was anxious , nervous , very excited and like most mothers highly emotional and very worried . The minute I heard the announcement that flight had landed I felt this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach , my heart was ready to burst with joy . I remember feeling the same way 22 years ago when the doctor had told me that I was expecting . Today , I was going to see my little baby after five long years , she was now a grown up young lady and from what I have been seeing in the pictures she sends me , she is as pretty as pretty can be .
I must have stared at that little screen for ages trying to get a glimpse of her coming down the escalator , suddenly I saw a pair of bright red sneakers , that had to be her if I knew my daughter well , she had to be the one with the red sneakers . I took off my new gold rimmed glasses and cleaned the glass , I wanted this moment to be perfect , crystal clear for me to cherish forever .
Here she was now finally in my arms my little angel , she was much taller than before and had lost a lot of weight . I looked down and smiled when I saw her red shoes .
She hugged me all the way home from the airport . She was like a little parrot , talking non – stop , excited , overwhelmed , she had so much to say . I sat silently admiring her , listening to her voice , holding her close to me . It was like looking at myself in the mirror ages ago only now it was a far more pretty version of me , my daughter , she was finally home . Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks , she looked at me and said , “Aw ma don’t cry , hey I love your new spectacles here let me clean the glass for you”, she gave me a tight hug and I felt the same warmth I had felt when I held her in my arms the day she was born , nothing had changed and nothing will change , she will always be my little angel. Now I was not going to let her go any where , there was so much to catch up on , so much to hear , so much to say .
Sitting in the my seat putting on my red sneakers I smiled I could visualize the look on my mothers face , I knew exactly what she would say , “You and your fetish for red sneakers , some things never change”. Five years ago I was sitting on a flight leaving my mother not knowing when we would be seeing each other next , it made me extremely sad and tearful . Today as I excitedly wait for this flight to land on my home grounds I am tearful again . The tears roll down , the tears of joy , finally the time had come I was getting home , home to my mother. These last five years had been very busy and passed away very fast , ironically these last five minutes seemed like ages . The flight landed but the butterflies in my stomach were still very active and in motion . Meeting mum after five long years , it was making me a little nervous and couldn’t wait to hug her. Running towards this lady wearing gold rimmed spectacles I felt like a five year old who is lost in a crowd and suddenly spots her mother . My mother had aged a little , grey hair , spectacles and a touch of wrinkles . Looking at her made me realize how long five years were .
I felt comfort and security in her arms . The journey back home from the airport was full of stories and questions all obviously by me . However , one thing kept bothering , it was like a spot on the windshield which keeps bugging the driver till he hasn’t wiped it off . How was I going to tell mum about him , how would I tell her that I was in love , would she understand or would she over react ? I just hugged her and we both wept silently , I was home and with her and I knew all would work out fine , she always understood after all and I know she will be very happy for me when I tell her about my new job . She will be proud of her little girl who has finally grown up .
Three months at home should be enough time for me to tell her about him and my plans to move back and pick up the new job . Wondering how she would react to my suggestion of her moving overseas worried me . There was enough time to deal with all that right now being next to her , finally coming home was comforting and very exciting.