The Peach Tree

In the grand scheme of things, what goes around, comes around...

If I had known...

One cold day, many winters ago

Ramblings on Women's Day!

http://goodwritings.blogspot.com/2005/03/more-ramblings-on-womens-daya-female.html

My take on Women's day!

When the red roses go out of season

http://goodwritings.blogspot.com/2005/02/when-red-roses-go-out-of-season.html


When the red roses go out of season...

The phone rings as I am about to leave for the day. My rather weary "Hello" is greeted with exuberance as a friend cheerily booms down into the phone. "Guess what", he gushes, "I met this guy yesterday who is a palm reader and he reckons love is on the cards for me, in other words I am about to meet my dream girl very,very soon". "That's wonderful", I murmur and hope he will leave it at that but he persists "What do you think?".





I hear his excited voice, the unbounding optimism that the love forecast seems to have generated in him and suddenly,I want to tell him very honestly what I think...

I want to tell him that love will walk its way into his life just like that, one fine day, hardly stopping to ask him if he is ready, that no palm reader and no astrological forecast will ever prepare him for the life changing emotions that will follow.

I hope he knows that he can’t choose whom he will fall in love with, all I hope is that he loves with all his heart and follows his heart without constantly second guessing himself. Love is as much about the little things as much as it is about the big decisions and this I want him to understand. Long after the Hallmark cards and red candy boxes have been exchanged and relegated to moth ball lined drawers, what will remain etched in memory forever is a look, a kind word, a pat on the back and a squeeze of the hand.

I want to tell him that rather than finding a person who says "I love you", I hope he finds a person who says "I'll always be there for you" because at the end of the day it is more about support than about declarations, it is more about having a familiar number to call and pour your heart out than about having to put your best voice on.It is more about caring for the other person than guarding your own vulnerabilities.

I hope he finds a love that does not fizzle out after the red roses have gone out of season, rather I hope he finds and gives the sort of love that packs an umbrella for a rainy day and waits at the window anxiously when the other person is running late.

Long after the love ballads and the duets have been sung and they have become silent melodies buried in the recesses of the mind forever, what will sustain him on a cold wintry day is someone with whom he can have a heart warming, honest talk. Sometimes you do not need to be poetic to do your soul searching. I hope he finds someone who can make him smile and someone with whom he can laugh himself silly, you can never go wrong if you can make each other smile.

I hope he realizes that acts and facades are hard to keep up and harder still to unmask, all he can do is hope that he will meet someone who will allow him to be himself and accept him for what he is and this will be much,much harder than he thinks possible. To find someone with whom you can discuss anything under the sun, is to find your piece of heaven and I wish he grows that lucky in love. I hope his love matures from counting the stars all night to staying up with the other person all night when sick and upset.

Lastly I wish I could tell him that luck and love do not always go together, that perhaps he will love with all his heart and it will never be reciprocated. Instead of being bitter and turning into a non believer, I wish I could tell him that it does not matter, he will still win in a game that declares no winners and makes everyone lose something in a way.

There is so much I could tell him but like with all miracles, I want him to experience this one in its entirety, I want him to walk this path and perhaps stumble a bit but move on nevertheless and learn and keep his heart opens as he travels.

"Are you there?" he asks me, suddenly realizing that I haven’t said anything for a long time. "I am very happy for you" I answer, and as he says goodbye, I softly respond "It will all work out in the end, it always does".

Scarlett.

The gift

http://goodwritings.blogspot.com/2005/02/gift.html

The Gift
He comes in as I am about to settle down to write a support email. In his usual fashion, he hasn’t knocked on the door or asked me if this is a good time to talk, instead as I stare at him with a look of mild irritation, he pulls up a chair and sits down next to me.








He is humming to himself as he does this and he keeps up the beat by tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on my desk. We sit like that for a few minutes, eventually the humming stops and he notices me staring at him. I force a smile and wait for him to say something, hoping that whatever he wants to say will be quick. I expect another lengthy explanation or excuse about some work that I have assigned to him. We have been through this many times now and I am well aware that my voice has a rather sharp edge to it when I mention deadlines.

Today however, his mood changes when he stops the humming. His face takes on a different, almost mellow expression as he asks me if he could take a further week off after Christmas. I sigh and almost start to explain why this isn’t feasible when something about the moment stops me. I can’t place my finger on it but there seems to be some subtle poignancy about the moment and the situation that makes me want to let him talk.

I wait for him to say something more by way of explanation and when none is forthcoming, I ask him if everything is alright. For a long while he says nothing and simply stares at his shoes and then suddenly all the facades of nonchalance and the "couldn’t care less" attitudes that his tattooed forearms and pierced eyebrows seem to scream out, fade away. His face softens and I suddenly find myself looking into a pair of troubled eyes.

"Its me grandmum", he says in a muffled voice. "She is real bad, got Alzheimer’s and stuff and now they say they have detected cancer too", he swallows a lump,” She won’t last long at this rate". He inhales rapidly and keeps staring at his shoes.” She doesn’t recognize me over the phone now", he adds, "And I thought I would kind of spend a week with her you know, it is not like she has lost all her marbles, some days she recognizes me fine and then it is like the old times ".

"You can take the week off", I find myself saying as he looks up at me, "I hope she recognizes you and I hope the two of you have a lovely time together, it will be alright". My voice trails off because there is nothing more left for me to say and nothing more left for him to hear because we both know the reality and we both want to leave the definite unsaid.

With shyness that beguiles his usual exuberance, he shyly shows me a hand bound book, his collection of poems that he has written for his grandma. Each page has painstakingly done illustrations and little notes to her of days well spent and memories well cherished. "It is nothing fancy, just my Christmas gift to her", he says and then adds almost as an afterthought, "She might not be around the next year you know".

"She will love this", I say struggling to keep my voice level. I tell him something I learnt years ago, that the best gift you can give is one wherein you give a part of yourself.

Reassured,he smiles and gets up to go. When he reaches the door, he awkwardly turns and whispers thanks and tells me that he will finish all his work before he leaves. As the door softly closes behind him and I hear the familiar humming again, I almost want to call him back in and thank him. He doesn’t know it but he has just taught me my most important lesson, the wisdom that you don’t give any less just because you know the end is around the corner.

Scarlett

No Good At GoodByes

Funny how you think, some things are never going to change and some people are never going to age. Funny how you think that in a changing world, the familiar faces from childhood will continue to be around long after you have left home. Funny how you see the fallacy of it all in retrospect.

The mail was short. It just said Gangabai had passed away,she wasnt in much pain and this had come as a kind of a shock to everyone around.

I stared blankly at my mother's email. She said she knew it was going to shock me but she said Gangabai would have wanted me to know. Do people really want other people to know...what about people who go through life guarding their lives behind a veil of stoicism, do they remain impartial in death too? But I digress, I grew up around Gangabai and when you grow up around someone,you dont think of secrets and facades...you just get used to them featuring in your life....like I got used to her featuring in my life.

She was there when I got home from school, a calm dignified presence in the background dusting the cupboards or helping my mum clean the kitchen. She was there when I arrived after doing well in an exam, after having a tiff with a best friend, after arriving caked in dust after a sports day, after tearfully banging through the front door when life and a teacher had been unfair to me.

She stayed long enough to see that I made up with the same "best" friend after every major fight, that I listened to my Dad's snippets of wisdom on life not always being fair and through many more exams, some of which I made the grade and some others which taught me lessons not previously learnt. She stuck around till grazed knees and pink hair clips gave way to MnBs and my first ever lipstick. She waved me off to my first "Rose Day" at college and she waited with Mum in the front garden till I got back 6 hours later, flushed,blushing a tad disappointed too.

She saw the transition from "I want Mummy" to "Can you puhleeeze leave me alone for the next 10 minutes" and later back to "I miss you when I am away Mum". She watched from the shadows as my crushes (the normal and the obnoxious) called up and were sometimes given the cold shoulder by my Mum and Dad. Whenever I erupted into "You didnt have to embarass me", she would smile and say "Somethings and some kinds of wisdom never change down the ages you know" as she exchanged looks of solidarity with my Mum and Dad.

She cried when the day finally came for me to pack my bags and move to Bangalore. I cried too but through my impatient tears I was finally waiting for my first ever job and my first ever pay and I consoled myself that I had to leave home anyways and wouldnt she be around when I came back! Indeed she was, she would listen when I told her about my workplace, my new friends, my snooty boss, the wonder of living in a crowded metro. She would sometimes silently wipe a tear with her frayed pallu and say "Its lonely around here though, the phone doesnt ring, there are no friends of yours parked here and I miss not having all your things lying around"...and I would suddenly realize that homes change when someone leaves them...irrevocably and for ever.

When in a few years I made the big move overseas, she cried all over again,this time I cried too for I knew how hard it was,hadnt I learnt that in the past 2 years. "Will you come with Mum and Dad to see me off?" I asked her. "No child", she replied, "I will wish you well though, I am no good at goodbyes".

As the bus wound it way out of my hometown and I turned around to have a last look at the crowded,zigzagged streets and familiar shops and alleys, I saw her...she was standing away from the crowd that had come to see me off, but she had come and her gentle face was lined with worry and behind the brown glasses, I could see glistening tears.
I met her over the years, this time we had tales of my new country, of the things I had learnt, the things I missed and the things I would forver love no matter where I went or what I did. We would sit on the terrace near the old mango tree, both of us cutting a quaint picture and we would talk and she would tell me how much my parents missed me even though they never said it in their emails for fear of upsetting me. "Dont worry about us though", she would say briskly, "we have all the family here and except for missing you, we dont have anything to worry about".

I saw her for the last time in March, I was to leave the next day and she didnt want to say goodbye as usual. I kept it light, I will see you next year I said...she smiled, "Indeed you will, look after yourself, we will all wait for next year". Then she was gone, the gate creaked and then fell silent and the golden afternoon wore on. That was then...the mail made it seem like it was yesterday. You dont think of the possibility that a goodbye can be your final one...arent goodbyes supposed to be interludes till we meet again.

She was right, she was no good at goodbyes...but hey she didnt know that I am no good at them either, or perhaps she did. She was right about one thing though...it is not only homes, lives change too when someones leaves... irrevocably and forever.
RIP.

Scarlett