Luzee and her HIDDEN Heart

In a Very Looonnnngggg...TIME

2012-02-02T15:13:00.000+06:00

A month of 2012 had come and gone, where was I? Another month began, where am I?

It seems like a long time since I did anything substantial, I mean writing down something to keep tract of my life. I feel like walking on the water, or to be more metamorphic "floating in the air"!

What have I been doing? Let's have a look back...

From the last time I wrote about being lonely, there was a sudden rush in my life. The following night I had to rush to the casualty for a quick check-up, called my friend Ana Pema and her Hubby for friends, they spent that night at my place. Next day, I had a handful of guests (my Aunt and her family), followed by my Hubby's arrival back from his village. And since then, no looking back because we were so tied running from post to pillar...

Then came another array of guests and relatives dropping in for a night or two. Every weekend, we had some plans piled up our sleeves. In between, we went for a night's stay at Phuntsholing, another night's stay at Sibsoo, back to Thimphu and another truckload of guests for lunch; my sister and her friends visiting home every second night; and my elder brother left for India; then KP and his team to Paro to build a shelter for his Grandpa who meditates in a cave (say for the last 65 years or so)...and BANG - another list of errands waiting for days to turn into nights and nights into days. Oh, I am DEAD tired!

And this morning, I sent my younger brother to Delhi after a huge brawl (because he mistook my concerns or is it that I am being TOO good to everyone?). Anyway, he called from the Airport sounding [kinda] sorry. But I had forgiven the whole drama in less than a day. That's me, always the one who takes all the sweats!

In a very long (may it sound with ten 'o's') time, I feel like settling down for a big glass of red wine by the fireplace, some uncle-chips to go with and sleep till the crow changes its color. Because I am so tired.

What say about the next few weeks ahead? Think of it - for a couple of days, I am off for a trip (be sure that I will be back bald and lean!), followed by a quick trip to Sibsoo to fetch my girls, and our yearly family rituals for two days, and kids to school...and my life is all messed up! Come to office, things are always dependent and when your colleagues know that you depend on them for your work, they delay further and further. Frustration isn't enough sometimes.

Therefore, I need a good break from everything. May be until my 30th Birthday. Oh damn, did I say 30th? Please, age shouldn't deter me from my energy. I still have a long (another set of ten "o's") way to GO!

Loneliness is Beautiful

2011-12-13T20:11:00.000+06:00

Tonight, I am all alone at home, the first of the next few weeks. My girls left for India today and my Hubby isn't back in the last two weeks from his hometown where he had gone to attend to his ailing Grandpa. Last evening, the latter passed away "peacefully" (in my Hubby's words).

On the death of Grandpa, I mourn deeply. Of the few In-Laws I knew, he was the only one who actually acknowledged my presence in his grandson's life. Not having a grand wedding ceremony saved me from the bomb of meeting the 'other world' at one go, and in a way helped me meet one at a time. Grandpa was kind to talk to me, unlike many other who for reasons of their own never saw me more than an immature girl. Anyway, this is another story for another time. So dear Grandpa, I shall remember you fondly for the few moments we talked. May your soul rest in peace.

Right now, my companions are this glass of red wine and the blazing sound of the TV. Wine, I drink to get me sleep. Insomnia is something I dread and it is right here. Few times in the middle of the night, I wake up to the darkness around me, mind point blank and yet so stressed that sleep has become a forgotten luxury. I have intentionally switched off my mobile, to save myself from any sympathy calls. Not even from my Hubby.

Don't worry, loneliness is pretty beautiful. In the last two weeks of my struggling life as a 'single' woman, I shook my mind to generate thoughts way beyond its capacity. At one point, I gave up life in all its intricacies - you know family, marriage, siblings, career, friends, dreams, kids and all. I was so smothered by the deep thoughts of life and death. And I tell you, death scares me just as much as life eludes me.

This evening, I dropped by the workshop to get the flat tire repaired. The onlookers probably thought I was pathetic in that cold breezy workshop right next to the stream, teeth clattering up to breaking point and going blue fighting the winter chill. On the contrary, a beautiful lonely thought was keeping me company. I thought how wonderful it feels to stand strong for ones responsibility, even at the cost of being a mere woman sometimes.

Back home, the house looked haunted. I didn't do much to enjoy the eerie feeling. I lit the fireplace, made myself a quick dinner and sat down to think again. That's when I realized that I should switch off my mobile. I wanted no intruder at all. Really wanted to feel complete lonely for sometimes, and to realize that life is this way sometimes. I might as well get used to it sooner!

How strongly I delve into philosophy when I am emotionally detached with the rest of the world. It makes me feel that at certain points in your life, nothing is ever going to help. There will be times when you will have to fall asleep listening to the ticking of the clock, or even worse imagining that dreams can be more beautiful than reality. This sounds ridiculous for a normal mind to think, when otherwise your life is round the clock. Therefore, I cherish this loneliness creeping into me...slowly...but surely.

No worries. I have my prayers well said. Darkness is nothing but the absence of light. When one tomorrow I lit the candle, I shall rejoice the light but for now, I am good with the absence of it. By the way, darkness is also a moment.

Secret Passage...

2011-09-01T10:32:00.001+06:00

So the myth goes...

Long long time ago, there was a King who could hear and understand the languages of insects and animals alike. But he was sworn under oath not to reveal this secret, not even to his favourite Queens.

One afternoon, as he and his Queens were basking in the sun in their beautiful palace garden, he heard a housefly couple fussing over something. The male fly wanted to take a dip into the cup of tea but his lady companion was discouraging him.

"Oh, I want to get a taste of the cream of butter," he said, rubbing his back-limbs on the wings. (So says the myth that this is how you can identity a He-fly!)

"Please, please. You will drown," said the female.

The He-fly didn't heed and jumped in. And he was drowned. The She-fly wept, rubbing her fore-limbs on her eyes. (And this is how one can differentiate a She-fly!)

Watching this, the King let a soft sigh with tears rolling down his cheeks. The Queens, noticing this emotion, pestered the King to confide in them. After much pleading, he shared his secret with them. The vow broken, the King is said to have died of the aftermath.

Often, I feel myself that King. Be it while cooking, or while doing laundry or while sweeping, I find myself letting soft sighs revisiting some of the secrets only known to ME or between 'someone' and I. I have always respected 'secrets', I have always held on to my morals to keep the secret passage undisclosed. A pity that I will go to the grave carrying this undiscovered corner in my heart (or rather a salute?).

Any time I feel tempted to leak what's confided in me, I think of the King who had to pay the price of his life. If only he hadn't surrendered to his weakness, he would have lived longer and [may be] created a different side of the story.

To this effect, I have come to respect secrets just as much as the trust bestowed upon me. Of course, some of the secrets and those hush-hush are not always good. How does it matter who knows about what's inside me, so long as it dies with me! For the same reason, I love to clear my accounts clean, burn my diaries, tear my letters and delete all mails from the inbox! You know, ever ready to face the wrath of death...anytime.

By the way, I enjoy watching houseflies and assuming who is the He-fly and who the She-fly. A futile effort to connect myself to the mythical King!

Of Religion and Prayers

2011-07-27T14:27:00.000+06:00

One of the last days, I wrote my FB status as "I hate houseflies, mosquitoes, insects and all the crawlies. Why did God create them?" and this drew a huge round of debate among my friends.

For the Right Way to Live

Born Buddhist, I have learnt the essence of life from an early age, and coming from a conservative family, my parents in their best ways have given us siblings the basic attitude about respecting life. Since the tragic death of my eldest brother in an accident in 1990, my family has lived in deep fear of death and philosophy of life.

Of religion and prayers - I am one soul who can't go a day without saying my prayers, and even so. How often I find myself at the mercy of prayers! No, I won't say I am a religious person (no way by the definition of a fanatic/radical/extremist). I respect all religions, but follow one. My religion, however, in the broader sense is living life in an everyday-sense. I know it sounds so absurd and weird that I talk as if I know all.

Well, I admit I know nothing. My modesty is often bargained with people's rational opinions, and I respect all. Of the three things I don't talk about, one is "Religion", other than Politics and Sports. I just won't/can't win an argument over these areas.

Like, how I pray and what I pray for is mine. So for the rest who do the same. How can we fight for or against our own words?

Saying my prayers everyday doesn't make me a saint either. I am liable to mistakes and wrongs, I am prone to ill-thoughts. I am yet to tame my mind. I like gossips and I even tend to be blunt with my thoughts. I can afford to hate something/someone. Oh, sometimes I can brag for hours about a person or nag for days for something not done the way I wanted. Then, how do I justify my sainthood?

That's why I say my religion is my way of living. In no way the prayers I say are meant for personal or material gain. I am a God-fearing person. I believe in the law of Karma - the cause and effect cycle. I believe in Heaven and Hell. I believe in Life and Death. I am NOT forever. I am, but TODAY, and this I try to get the best out of it.

Of all, I like to be honest. I am scared of being dishonest. If I don't like something, big deal, I don't like it [ha-ha. Don't I sound ruthless?].

Anyway, I thought it was time that I reminded myself of my personal opinions. Of Religions and Prayers, here I go - My religion is my everyday.

(Picture accessed on 27/07/11 @ http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.funnycoloring.com/img/girl-pray)

Best Mother's Trophy

2011-05-09T11:34:00.004+06:00

When I got married, I knew my responsibility would mean more than being "the wife". I was to be "the mother" as well, perhaps the bigger responsibility.

Both of us were equally nervous when we met for the first time in late December 2009. Lekshay welcomed me home with her shy smile and innocent eyes. 11 years and she looked so eager to have a home again. I heaved the heaviest sigh and smiled back. No words were exchanged.

Mother's Day Card from Leksh

Today, after one-and-half-year of being together, Lekshay and I have developed a bond beyond words. Gradually, our mother-daughter bond grew from better to best.

No other child would have gone through the hard times that Lekshay suffered, from a broken family to single parenthood. Her father [my Hubby], in his own capacity gave his best efforts, but how much can a man do? Yet, he tried. And to us, he is a "Hero" - the banner holder of "best-est father ever".

Yesterday - my 2nd Mother's Day in celebration. Last year, I was home late and my girls were there with a home-baked cake singing "Happy Mother's Day" when I walked in. This year, Lekshay made me a wonderful card and a small gift. She says, "You are the world's best mother ever." Similar to the essay she had written in her last exam which had made me a "Hero" in the eyes of her previous school.

Well, what do I feel? Indeed, it feels so wonderful to be get that feeling of being a "mother", not necessiated by the fact that one needs to give birth! Lekshay is ever the daughter I wanted and I the mother she never had. She enjoys my cooking, trusts my choice of clothes and respects my decisions. She doesn't take a single step without my consultation. She gives me that importance of being her "mother".

I know her pretty well. I can read the smile in her eyes and also the frown on her face when she tends to get annoyed [which is very rare]. Her silence is not her weakness, she talks through it. And she is so artistic. She is always that "yes" man, won't ever say "no" to anyone, for anything. My mother keeps reiterating that her response to stimuli is so active!

She is my biggest supporter when it comes to getting blues with her father. It was a turning point in my life when she intervened during one of our regular fusses, pleading her father to "keep shut". Nothing I do is ever wrong to her - not even getting angry at her father. That much trust she has in me. And this point gave me the biggest reason to love the family I have created.

[Sigh]. Holding the "Best Mother's Trophy" in my hand, I feel so on top of the world. I feel blessed to have a daughter in Lekshay, and together we make this world beautiful. I feel achieved in my existence to making her world complete. Together, we shall prevail.

P.S: Thank you so much Lekshay. You are a wonderful gift. And I your proud "mother".
[Read in between the lines. She says she feels little odd, because she got a mother after 11 years!]

My Indian Best Friend's Big Fat Wedding

2010-09-22T12:50:00.002+06:00

The most beautiful Bride

When I assured my friend Chandrika (alias C) that I would come for her wedding anytime after College (2001 - 2005), I had meant keeps. Sure enough, on the 15th of September, I found myself drapped in a blue dress and heading off to Delhi to attend her wedding. Butterflies danced all over my body - we were to meet after little less than five years, and for her wedding!

The excitement was very strong, but genuine and good. We had piles to talk, I mean in person, for our regular touch through calls, chats and emails kept us well informed.

This was to be my first Indian wedding and I was too excited for words. After all those fantasies in the movies and soaps, even the glamour of it made me want to digest each function precisely.

No change, five years down the lane

On the arrival was the Shagun function. Before that, I had to meet the competent groom Vaibhav who had taken the solemn vow to be C's life partner. Well, just as I had expected, he was very calm and sweet. I also met all her relatives who till that moment had been virtual figures in my mind. All I needed was a formal introduction.

The Five - The Cartoon-five

After picking up Nisha from the Airport, we headed for the Girls' Night out. By way of introduction, C had four of her close friends attending the wedding - Neha(Pune) from her school days, myself from Engineering days, Nisha (Bangalore) from MBA days and Priyanka (Chennai) from her former work-place. My fortune that clicking with these girls were just a matter of a smile, we made a team after all.

Day-two began with the Mehindi-function (where we managed to scrap in ourselves as well) and the cocktail party in the evening. Wishers flocked in to wish the couple, and I tell you, over the years C hadn't changed a bit in her pursuit to perfection. We stood in awe of her gist to keep everything well planned.

C with her Dad and Mom

The third day began with a "Chooda ceremony", with only her close relatives attending. (Friends were a feature in anything that had to do with "closeness". Thank you.) The wedding began sometimes after 8:00 p.m. on the 17th. In between, I and Priyanka managed to pull out few hours for shopping.

God Bless the Couple

The grandness of the wedding still keeps me rolling in stars. And most blessed was the weather (quite a thing for a place like Delhi!) that not a single drop of rain for the three days, otherwise those functions arranged in the open would have been a big mess. God is great, He knows when to throw his Blessings. Thank you God.

Unofficial Moments

Apart from the wedding spree, it was the time I spent with the friends and relatives which gave me a better reflection. I was really in a company of my own-kind and felt so belonged, despite the alien looks with which I attempted to draw few curious attention. Nevertheless, when moments of importance came, like being on stage with the couple, I knew why I was so head-determined to go for the wedding. As I always convinced others, "I ain't only going to attend a wedding, but I am going to meet my friend." I meant decent honest and it was paid off in kind. I felt present, and word kept.

Alright Dudes, Let's Play Cricket

2009-11-21T09:17:00.002+07:00

The first touch of cricket in my life was when India played against Australia in the World Cup Finals in 2002. Dressed in blue (to say we supported India), all of us gathered in the Anna Auditorium of our College (VIT) led by the Chancellor himself. We hooted and cheered, whistled and shouted. In a corner, it took me almost half an hour to get some of the basics of the game. Chapter closed.

2009: Few days back, when my mate suggested we play cricket, I was like "Yay, we will." At the back of my mind, I asked, "Damn it, what do I know about it?" So, last evening, four of us went to the Thomas Dalton Park with a bat, a ball and a wicket.

Safeer soon got down to pitching the wicket, while Kezang and Safina took turns to brief me on the basics. We teamed up in two. Safina and I got to bat first. "I will tell you when to run," said my partner when she saw nothing could be read on my face. Fair enough!

It was fun, real fun. We even cheated once. Through the winks of our eyes, our opponents couldn't read us. First match, we outcasted both of them before the scores. And in the next match, we were beaten. Deal!

Out to the beach, out to the beach! Excusing the drizzles, three of us ran to the beach. Mercy, for we women are nasty hydrophobic. None of us got into the water more than the dip of our feet. In getting this shot with Safina, however, I was waist down in the water. Back home, I found sands along my pantyline as I stripped to bathe!

Phew, but that was fun.

(I take pride in admitting that half of my wonderful memories of Wollongong are thanks to the fortune of having met such wonderful mates. They gave me more than I deserved...)

A Sister Remembers Through Tears

2009-09-17T20:06:00.000+07:00

Did I write "happiness" is the only word hanging on my lips? Oh well, kill me for that. Serious. Right now, I am weeping like a child, because of the mere reminder of some memories.

I was mailing a condolence e-mail to a friend in which I decided to mention something about my own late brother's death as a way of giving her some companionship in accepting death. Almost immediately, I found myself "drowned in the river of tears".

My late brother. ("Late" - I hate this word). He was brutally killed in an accident, at the hands of a man to whom he meant no harm. He was 25, young and handsome. Yes, he was the most handsome man I can ever recollect. And that fateful day, he had promised to see me over the week when we met at the market. (The promise that was never fulfilled). Even at that tender age of eight, I knew what pain unfulfilled promises could bring.

So, my brother was killed. My father had to say when he reached the hospital, my brother's corpse still had the bodily heat. What disaster it must have been for a father to see his first child lain on a stretcher, prounouned no-more living! We waited for his body to arrive as if we were lining for some show - and my brother came held by four strong men. His motionless body was too true to be believed. But he never got up from that forever sleep.

19 years passed with those memories and I wonder how many more years I can shed my tears. That day, I not only lost my brother, but I lost everything I had. My family, myself, and my purpose of life. I hadn't lost one thing which is my ability to cry. My brother robbed us everything except the energy to cry for him. I constantly find myself drowned in his memories and each time I do, I let my emotions overtake me. I know I am a weakling but I don't care. Because I really loved my brother.

Not a single day passes without his thoughts. I feel like talking to him through the whispers of wind. I feel I must stand strong for I have an obligation in his name. I must look after my family which he couldn't. I can't fail my brother in that. I still owe him that trust. Death did victimize all of us, but it hasn't weakened me to the senses yet. I shall live for both the living and the dead. God, I truly salute this heart of mine! How it stands all these pains!

(Thus, a sister remembers her brother through the limitless tears that she sheds everyday.)

(Picture courtesy: Accessed from Google on 17/09/09,

URL:http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__jFgOqdirRY/R9bVO_BiQTI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/u3dQdK3-qJk/s400/shattered_tears.jpg)

Because I am Dead...

2009-08-17T06:51:00.000+07:00

Tonight I watched my own death.

I see so many people hovering around my body and I realize I am dead. I see many many new faces I haven't known before. Someone puts the cerecloth on my body and I remain unmoved... because I am dead.

One by one, people come to offer their last homage to this "me" who was once alive like them. I still stand still...because I am dead. I read some texts, one of them is a copy of what I have given to them. But who are these people? They are new faces...I can't recognize a soul there.

Slowly, the crowd clears out. There is this very dark-looking girl sitting next to my body. She has a friend with her. I touch her shoulder and caution her not to scream...beacuse I am dead. She keeps shut, with her eyes rolling at "me" waking up from my dead body.

I tell her this, "I have been watching you standing by my body the whole time. You have a very ugly dark face, but a BEAUTIFUL heart." She holds me and cries on my shoulder, while her friend asks who she is talking to. Her friend doesn't see me... because I am dead.

I woke up to the reality of the alarm set at 6:30 a.m. Witnessing my own death was beautiful...I was transported to that world for once.