Senses alive and wild, I ran on the path of life, my eyes capturing the wondrous colours of nature and people, my skin revelling at the touch of the breeze , my body moving to the rhythm of life....and then... I plunged into a tunnel....I looked around in confusion, the laughter dying on my lips. All I saw was darkness. My mind fought against this imprisonment and I struggled against the vacuum which was devoid of all colour, sound and feeling. I couldn't breathe and I knew I would be strangulated if I didn't find a way. I groped around the walls looking for an escape....there had to be one...every tunnel has an end, every maze has an exit...mine is just around the corner. I kept searching, my mind focussed only on the route of escape. I found it and I began my slow, tortuous journey... I can see the light filtering through. I have made it. Its so close. My senses clamour at the approach of freedom and liberation....

50 THINGS I WANT TO DO WHILE I AM ALIVE AND LEAPING AT UF :-)

1) Ride a bicycle in the morning around UF and watch the sun rise at Lake Alice
2) Form the "Dead Poet's Society" at Gainesville and read stories and poems in the wee hours of midnight.
3) Ride a bus at night and watch the city lights glow in the dark, inky sky
4) Go kayaking and canoing at Lake Alice
5) Learn how to Tango/ Salsa/ Flamenco
6) Cook a barbeque meal for all my friends
7) Watch all the shows at the Hippodrome Theater
8) Go camping for a week
9) Visit Orlando
10) Celebrate Holi again with friends( bloody hell! I hope those apartment people won't evict/ sue us!!!! :-)
11) Climb the highest building at UF and click pictures
12) Learn a new language
13) Dance till dawn
14) Ofcourse, STUDY ( if I get time from my busy schedule, that is :-)
15) Bake a cake for my roomies during Christmas, Burfi during Diwali and Gujjia for Holi
16) Go bungee jumping
17) Parasailing
18) Jetskiing
19) Swim in the sea
20) Snorkeling

.....to be continued( I am still dreaming of what else to do) :-)

I gazed out through the yellow , grilled window of my bedroom watching the rays of the setting sun diffuse in the horizon. The golden orange afterglow bathed the buildings and I breathed the chilly winter air. December vacations give you the much needed respite from the chaos of mundane activities. I needed this time to introspect. I sipped the tea from the cup in my hand, the warmth mellowing me. The abrupt ringing of the phone startled me and I quickly reached out my hand to answer the impatient caller. It was Anandji, theatre director and co-founder of the NGO "Steps For Change". I was surprised to hear from him. " So are you keeping yourself busy during the vacations? ", he asked. " Not really", I answered vaguely. " Do you have time to spare?", he enquired. " More than enough. Do you have a play in mind?", I asked, the excitement palpable in my voice.
" We are actually initiatiating a project called KHOJ. We want college students like you to educate street children. If you can spend two hours during your vacations everyday, it would be great."
"Where are we meeting?", I asked
" Well, we have planned to arrange the classes at a park adjacent to Dili Haat. There are a lot of street children who linger around there polishing boots or begging for alms"
" When do you want me to come?"
" Tomorrow at 3 o'clock. Will that be convenient?"
" I'll be there", I concurred.
The next day I climbed into the bus and sat on the bonnet that covered the engine. Its the best place to sit during winters because the heat from the engine keeps you warm though the thick sweater and jeans did help keep the cold at bay.I got off at Dili Haat and looked around for the park that was contingent with it. I walked towards the fenced park that was visible right across me. As I reached the fence, I heard shouts. I looked over the fence with wide eyes as I saw 3 children, dressed in tatters, run towards me, their faces beaming with wide smiles. I looked behind my shoulder wondering who was provoking such a reaction from these ragdolls. There was no one. I turned back, perplexed. Were they really so happy to see me? Why? What did I do? The questions went unanswered as one of them hugged my legs while the other fell into my arms and the third climbed over my shoulder. I closed my eyes, savouring the unconditional love that they surrounded me with. What did I do to deserve such love, I would never find out.
But what I did discover was that there was so much I had. And I was so afraid to give. Or rather I just was always so convinced of my inadequacy that I never thought that there was anything in me that was of value. Bare footed and dressed in threadbare clothes that struggled in vain to keep their shrivelled, emaciated bodies warm , they had every reason to be bitter and cynical. But their ebullience put me to shame. It was the beginning of a stark realisation of the bare necessities of life.We were always told that in order to survive,we need a roof over our heads, food to eat, water to drink and clothes to cover our bodies. How narrow is our understanding of life. And we are supposedly the "educated lot". We spend all our lives struggling to stock our lives with comfort believing that without them we are doomed, our lives are not worth living. We stop smiling, start frowning, ignore our friends and stay engrossed in running the wheel of life like experimental rats.
Where are we going?
I don't know. I have to keep moving to make ends meet.
Which ends? To what end?
I don't know. I have been told to keep working to make money. I am in the proffession that will enable me to make the most money.
All the money in the world cannot buy exuberance and enthusiasm for life. That comes only when you live life barefooted and naked. Trudging to offices in pinstripe suits and double breasted blazers cannot conjure up excitement. Sleeping under the stars with no roof over your head keeps the fervour alive.

CHALK IN HAND

"Destiny is what you have always wanted to accomplish . Everyone , when they are young knows what their destiny is. At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible. they are not afraid to dream and to yearn for everything they would like to see happen to them in their lives" Paulo Coelho ( The Alchemist)



A dreamer. Thats what everyone called me. Thats what I was. Still am. I wanted to make my dreams come true. My dream to pursue theatre, art and writing. And I needed money for it. I contemplated working in restauraunts and fast food joints just as I had worked at Burger King in the US , during vacations. But the fast food joints in India only had full time positions and I couldn't squeeze in the time amidst my busy college schedule. I sat in my room dejected, wondering what other course I could resort to. Thats when I hit upon the idea of taking tutions. I printed a poster to advertise for the coaching classes I intended to take. Armed with a big bottle of fevicol, my friends and I went around the campus and the living quarters of the hospital personnel to stick the posters. We returned to the college mess, our hands sticky with glue, laughing like little children. I waited for a week. Noone called. No inquiries were made. As I was walking by the Old Doctors Mess, wondering what to do next, I heard a boy shout out to me. I waited for his cycle to catch up with me. It was Blesson. A young school going boy whom I had met perchance. He asked me if I was interested in taking tutions. I nodded excitedly. That was when he led me through the corridoors of the Old Doctors Mess. He stopped right outside the faded door of a house. The door opened and I entered expectantly. The dim, fluorescent light from a tube illumined the room, exposing the clothes that were piled up on a bed and around the couch. Kindergarten books lay strewn all over the place and a young girl sat at the foot of the bed, on the floor. A short, stocky man with a moustache greeted me. I squared my shoulders and greeted him in my most confident voice. " So, what do you do?", he asked. " I am a third year Nursing student and live in the hostel adjacent to the hospital". His eyes glinted approval as he sized me with his eyes. I smiled confidently, enunciating my words to impress him. " Why do you want to take tuitions?" , he asked. I answered , making sure my accent was accentuated, " I would like to be independant and make enough money to pay my hostel fees".He seemed satisfied with the answer.He pointed towards the girl who sat by the bed. "She will be your student". I glanced at the girl , taking note of her mussed up hair, her jet black eyes that stared unblinkingly at me. I smiled. She smiled shyly and then looked down. We decided to have classes at 4pm everyday for an hour and a half.

I ran back to my hostel, pumping my arms and legs, a smile stretched taut on my lips, my breath coming fast.I did it!I finally have a job! Now I never have to ask anybody for money again. I am my own woman. Not a damned soul will ever pinion me again! Whoopee!! I jumped high into the air and landed on my feet only to come face- to -face with my hostel warden, Mercy Ma'am. Uh oh. I smiled my brightest smile and wished her good afternoon. She gave me a quizzical expression. I told her abt my new job." Oh, I didn't know you were interested in coaching students", she said. I told her I was very enthusiastic about it. " Well, if thats the case, then I might have a couple of children for you to teach. I know a few people who are looking for tutors" I couldn't contain my glee. " Ma'am, I would be delighted"

The ball was rolling!!! And thus began my endeavour with teaching, little realising that it was I who was going to learn....

Each day the urge returns. To climb higher, seek a new meaning, watch the world from another perspective, explore possibilities....its in my heart, beating a slow, steady rhythm, feeding my fountainhead of inspiration. I know not why I feel compelled....a restlessness that makes me set out each day at daybreak. I look for a sign in the sky, a design in the world around me. I return home only to realise that another day has gone by and I am nowhere near realising what I want to be.

" Each day you push yourself to climb higher. When you hurt, you comfort yourself and double your efforts. Know why? When you'll reach there, you'll find out"

"Remember the Lord in everything you do and he will show you the right way"

I hope you will show me the right way. I so desperately seek it. Obsessed with always being right and proper, I loathe to make mistakes. I am turning into a coward. Running away from life, from myself , from you. Cringing, writhing. Life has retreated and I am left cold as a stone. Unable to feel, incapable of dreaming. My wings lie folded by my side, the remnants of flight receding from their feathers each day. My heart twists and bleeds in agony in fond remembrance of the days gone by. Shackled and weighted down, I kneel at your door. Open the doors, Father. Let me feel once again. Show me the way....I cannot bear to close my eyes and let my life slip away.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXmlJQN5Pm8

I finished reading " Teacher" by Sylvia Ashton warner. Tears streamed down my face when I read the closing lines

"5 year old tears on an autumnal face

....Thats why somebodies they broked my castle for notheen; Somebodies
...Nor all your tears wash out a word of it"

Strange how I read the above lines only once but they have imprinted themselves on my mind. These were the only lines which I did not write in my "lines -that- affected - me" book. Not strange. Only the organic and abstract at work. My Teacher. But Ma'am, I feel so stuck in this world where I have to write words which mean nothing to me. Words were glorious but they have lost their soul. I do not set them graciously; only repetitively. But I'll remember what you've taught. I will not let what you 've discovered and which you tried to teach disappear like the repeated, insignificant words that are pushed down my throat and which I inevitably regurgitate. In my minds eye, there loomed the image of a hand that moulded the substance which I am made of . Society has always crushed and pulverised so that I can become formless, shapeless....ready to assume the shape that the world has carved out for me. An insult to my intelligence. And yet, I am most revered and venerated when I insult my own judgement and uphold those of society. I have always searched for a teacher like you but my search has ended. I will write and write till my hands have no more strength. Organic, abstract, natural. I will, one day, know what it is to follow you in your foosteps. I may not tread the same path but the pattern of walking and the layout of the roads would be the same. A cresendo

My crucifiction and resurrection

I clutched at the walls that surrounded me. A choked cry escaped my lips. The darkness and the loneliness seeped into my soul through the environs. My eyes squeezed shut and the rivulets of tears trickled to the floor soundlessly. It was so hard to breathe. The agony wrenched me , making me writhe and twist. And yet, I willed myself to be still. "Just for tonight", I whispered to myself. "It will all be over" I gritted my teeth. But isn't this what I always wanted to feel? Excruciating agony, euphoric joy....the myriad colours of life...I feel so torn, so shattered even as I look back...

I sat ,unawares, on the precipice of my existence. Lifeless, the very colour of existence was sapped by the shackles that chained me. I lay there panting for breath when I felt a whiff of air. I breathed in deeply, almost choking. I gazed disbelievingly at the hint of light, almost afraid that it was an illusion, a conjuring by the fatigued imagination. But it was not.....