There is a small, beautiful, golden glazed, ornamental light fitting that unassumingly adorns the wall of my bedroom. It has been there since the day we moved in here fifteen years back. I remember gazing at the sheer, sufficing beauty of the masterpiece when I first saw it, for it seemed to exude the sort of charisma that a rare piece of art born out of the dexterous work of a gifted artist could bear. The inevitable charm had insinuated through the dilated peep holes of my eyes, deeper into the velvety pockets of my soul, spreading out to fill them, to enrich them.
But today, as I pause to ruminate, a question disturbs me deep and true. Why hadn’t the piece of sheer beauty evoked aforesaid emotions in me for longer, precisely to this day?
Worse yet, why did my eyes fail to register the presence of it all these years? Was it because I was busy growing up? Or was it because it had lost its lustre?
Somewhere, someday, the delectable mote in me that sprang up in excitement at the mere sight of the slightest hue of beauty, inconspicuously, started to slide closer to the verge of endangerment. They rarely enticed the adult in me, the reason for which is vague and not quite fathomable in its truest sense even at this moment.
Nevertheless now, as I stand admiring the art that stands erect in the most formidable point of my room, yet in an unfortunately secluded corner of my mind, I find myself being guided to the damped albeit soulful beauty of the long forgotten pathway to my past- my childhood. I feel fresh surge of bliss rushing through me. It evokes, at this moment, nostalgia like no other monument can or has. The embellished lighting, the little chunk of heaven which proudly carries the weight of an epiphany is, more than anything, an apt and impeccable reminder of the simple joys and subtler intrigues of the unscarred and pristine child in me.
Coming to think of it, isn’t it unfortunate that we fail to appreciate the beauty of all those unavoidable ingredients of our past – soul stirring events, obsessive inanimate objects, life changing incidents, and last but not the least, people who kindled sparks of change in us, people who made us what we are today, who, unknowingly or not are intricately linked to us for the rest of our lives- unless and until a day arrives when the blazing dusty flames of the same are thrown onto us once again out of the blue? What would happen then? Wouldn’t we be overwhelmed then? Would we survive the stupendous vortex of emotions that barge in on us that imminent day? How would we react? Would we smile? Or would we cry? Or would we be insensitive enough to ignore it and move on as if the trails we treaded could do nothing more for the supposedly proud and egoistic us even if we took time and try to dwell in those once again out of gratefulness? More importantly, wouldn’t we agree, without thinking twice, with the vacuum of our hearts for once filled with utmost fervour, to be flung back to the depths of those memories a second time, to live, love, laugh, obsess, amaze and be amazed all over again?
P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .
December was auspicious for more reasons than one. In fact, the year 2015 was perhaps the most resplendent year of my life, with regard to both my professional and personal life. There have been many an achievement which satiated the dreamer in me and a few motes of sorrow, which but failed to weaken the fiery spirit in me. The year did present me with a potpourri of emotions, nevertheless, the elements that screamed goodness absolutely amounted more than the ones which sprinkled my days with adversity. I should be grateful for that, which is precisely what made me scribble down this post.
I like making lists and so also, why don’t I make an unofficial list of the events and thoughts that conquered my body, mind and soul, for which I feel grateful for even when I breathe in this moment? In addition to the gratitude list, I intend to include a list of the books I read in 2105, which overpowered me with their sheer beauty and assertiveness.
As I write this post, I bask in the glow of happiness, for I happened to treat a patient who came to my house seeking solution for her symptoms. Now, this is no herculean strife, but this definitely was the first time I was treating someone in my home, or for that matter treating anyone outside the premises of a medical college, sans the watchful eyes of my seniors. It felt great and you know what made it even brilliant? The fact that my parents were at home to witness the event. Few moments of joy could match the emotions that trundle through me right now and I am grateful for being blessed enough.
I had written a few posts on my love for short stories before and I believe I did mention somewhere about my plans to bring out a short story anthology. I managed to complete my manuscript in November and am currently on the final editing process. It is no surprise that the editing process is going to take more time than the actual writing process and I am sort of enjoying the whole ‘working on the manuscript’ act.
As I have spoken time and again, my very first published work, ‘Love and other enchantments’, a short story anthology, which contains three of my short stories was released this October.
Yet another short story of mine found its way to the book ‘Colors: Different shades of life’, which is slated to release in January 2016.
Now, on the professional front, I cleared my post graduation exam and am officially an ENT Surgeon! However, the sweet release is not complete. I have started preparing for the next entrance exam in line, to pursue my higher studies. Life of a doctor is like school days all over again – right from the kindergarten to the tenth standard exams – 12 years of studies on an average!
On the personal terrain, I am, at present, the proud owner of three cats- A mother and two kittens. They undoubtedly make my day and I went ahead and wrote a whole post on them here.
I have started taking a liking to cooking. The bitter truth that I huffed and puffed through my adolescent years and quite a bit of my twenties too sans my own treasure trove of knowledge about the nuances of cooking has always been my mother’s biggest worry. I believe firmly in the principle that if someone intend to learn something new, it should either be out of passion or out of utter necessity. Cooking was neither a passion nor a necessity till one month back. I don’t regret that I am late to fall in love with it. On the contrary, I am glad that it approached me at a time, when my mind was ajar seeking something fresh to entice my soul with.
I learnt to drive a car all over again. Yes, like many, I procured a licence at eighteen years of age and never felt the need to put it to use till the moment when I realised that I need to learn it again right from the basics to at least successfully manoeuvre it to the next street.
Harking back, I am dazed to realise that I had a remarkable 2015 indeed. Or is it just that, we tend to sieve out the grain alone and not the chaff when judging matters in retrospect? Either way, I can proudly say that this post has already realised one of its many wistful goals- to spread a smile across my face. There have been many a moment when I was happy and laughed my heart out- Small talks with my friends, enthusiastic discussions with my parents, the relief I had the day when my university p.g practical exam got over, hearing good words about my performance from the external examiner itself, sending a gift via courier to one of my dearest friends’s who had her first baby in August, the many eat outs at the restaurants for lunch and dinner with friends, the trip to Kanyakumari with parents. . . the list is amazingly endless!
Life is a mixed bag, there is no denying that supreme truth, but, at this point of time, all I can concentrate on is the patch of petals that so gracefully adorned my journey. The thorns that slowed me down along the path seem mere specks which fail utterly in their aim to sting their claws deeper to be etched in time for eternity. The wound they created remain as healed abrasions and well on their process of turning into freckled scars, to be eventually forgotten in the course of time. They did hurt me at first. But I learnt in time to shroud those cuts with the skin of fortitude.
Books that conquered me:
I happened to read around thirty to forty books this year. I would like to list the books which touched my heart and satiated the reader in me. They are, in no particular order:
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Bluebeard and the eggs by Margaret Atwood
The Vicks Mango Tree by Anees Salim
Ours Are the Streets by Sunjeev Sahota
1984 by George Orwell
Choker Bali by Rabindranath Tagore
In Between the Sheets by Ian Mcewan
Real Time and other stories by Amit Chaudhari
As I wind this post up, I recommend every reader to sit down with a cup of tea or coffee while the events of the year scroll down the screen of your memory slowly. One needs to dissect the manner in which one’s life has turned out. Be it the sorrows, the joys or the miseries- every little emotion, if introspected well, offers a life lesson. If we don’t lend ear to the voice of our own souls, then who would?
Above all, the curious little girl in me which surfaces every now and then, would love to know how the year has been for you. Let us thus break bread, shall we?
P.S: This post is tagged with‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .