I currently work for a company that has its own proprietary messaging tool, something like the yahoo messenger, where the smiley icons are way cooler than the ones we have on yahoo. But that’s besides the point. Most of my buddies at work have a cheeky/witty presence message (that’s what we call our status messages here) next to their display names on the messenger board.
One of my colleagues here today had this message:
Explain not...Friends don't expect it and enemies won't believe it. -- Old Irish Proverb
That made me smile and get nostalgic. How many times have we come across friends to whom we need to explain why we did something some way? And no matter how much we try to explain something there are people who never accept it. Ironically right now I am in that mode of not accepting an explanation that a ‘someone’ gave me recently. I am digressing again. That is a different story all together to which I should dedicate a post by itself. This one is about friends and how they do not expect any explanation from us.
Over the weekend, I had some time to talk to a friend of mine, whom I invariably never call as much as I would like to call. What with all these oceans between us, we don’t get to meet as much as we would like to meet each other. We are not the kind that can exchange long e-mails either. So it’s just that we end up being happy with those few moments that we try and steal from our lives occasionally to catch up over the phone.
With the world shrinking and with so much of new gadgets to keep in touch with people, it’s getting increasingly difficult to have a good conversation. During my school and college days before the cell phones and e-mails made their entry, chatting with my friends used to be over a cup of coffee and some junk food. Life used to be more cozy and warm without all these gadgets then. Now with each of us having a cell phone and an e-mail account, all we end up doing is exchange a cryptic sms message once a while. How I miss all those frivolous talks.
In my case, we had a terrace around which our whole lives revolved. Most of the evenings the terrace was our haven. We were a bunch of school kids that consisted of some 9 fixed members and some 10 odd people chipping in every now and then. Of the 9, 4 were guys and 5 were gals. And like every gang, there were groups within the gang. This gang of 9 was made up of kids that belonged to different age groups; the youngest, a boy, was in his 2nd grade and the eldest, a girl, was in her 12th grade.
The friend to whom I made my weekend call after a long time is one among this gang. When we start talking both of us never feel like it had been so many weeks or months since we have spoken to each other. We just pick it up where we left, and we pick it up like we had left it just yesterday, and just go on and on. It had never mattered when we spoke last, be it 6 days earlier, or 6 weeks earlier, or even 6 months earlier.
There has been a time when we hadn’t spoken to each other for more than a year. Both of us (I especially had been the culprit--had been too busy with my life) that I even forgot to go and invite my friend for my wedding. Trust me, this friend does not need an invitation. But at the very least should know where it is happening and the date. The useless me, hadn’t called and even when called did not have time to talk in a detailed fashion. And eventually realized what I had done, a day before wedding.
Frantic calls were made and realized the numbers had changed. Worst is yet to come, I still do not give up and try to hunt this friend of mine for dear life feeling really miserable and catch hold somehow to realize that my friend was out of town on business. But did my friend feel bad? Must have, but did not tell me that day. Did my friend ask for an explanation? No, so much so, I wasn’t even aware that my friend was not in town until much after the wedding when I asked my brother how come I did not see this friend during any of the functions.
When I had spoken earlier, my friend did not want to upset me and enquired all about how things were going and in the end said, ‘No problem, will be there, go ahead give the phone to your brother so that I can ask him the directions.’ I gave the phone to my brother and with that forget all about my friend again. It was my brother who was updated on the out-of-town-on-business status that I came to know of later, which I had not bothered again to enquire in the wedding frenzy.
Then there was this instance, when I called on my friend’s birthday after nearly 13-14 months; both of us had missed the previous ones; this friend did not have my contacts updated, for I had not given; and the minute my voice is heard, my friend goes, ‘WOW, how have you been? Tell me all that has happened, so how is married life treating you, how is your brother .. etc., etc., how is life treating you?’ and so on and so forth. Now tell me, am I not blessed to have a person like that for a friend. Not one word of me not calling. And to top it all, my friend ends that call saying, ‘It’s been a long time since I had been on phone this long, and it still feels like we just started our conversation.’ We had spoken for more than an hour :)
Sometimes, I wonder if I deserve such a friend. But then, there are times that make me thank who ever that’s up there, for having given me such people in life. There are a couple of friends like this friend of mine whom I treasure and who are always there for me no matter what not expecting any explanations—just letting me be. Then there are people to whom no amount of explanations can suffice. That whole gang from terrace were friends who never needed any explanations. And when the other one did not explain we just understood. Could it be because we all grew up together and we knew each other so well that there was no need for explanations?
One of them called me after some 5 years and said the most sweetest thing I ever heard in my life. ‘All I wanted was to hear was your voice and know that you and your family are doing well. I am doing well and so is everyone else here in my family.’ There had been so many reasons that this friend was out of touch. I was in constant touch with my friend’s family and knew how my friend was doing.
I many times wonder what my world would be if not for friends like them. Primary reason why I would like to turn back time. :-) Would love to go back and live that time again, with my granny and mom in the house, and me, my brother and my dad in the terrace where our whole world then was. If only I could turn back time... If only I could...
Update on NOV-26-2007: Its that friend's birthday today. I had a happy long chat :) Happy Birthday my friend! Have an awesome year ahead!
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
To be Attached or Detached?
Long ago I read Vi’s Of Sylvia, Echoes, and Empty Rooms. That post made me get too nostalgic and I wanted to write so much in that comment space of hers that I realized I need to write them down as a post than a comment.
Eventually, I did start writing this one, the very day that I made that comment (18 September 2007 at 3:49 pm), but then, some how I got digressed in my daily rush of activities that it lay forgotten amidst all my files. Guess today is a day to get nostalgic. When I was clearing up my folders, I stumbled upon this incomplete write-up and said, let me make some logical conclusion to the fragment idea of mine.
Vi’s said post made me rewind and go back in life to the times when I was at high school. That was the time when I was starting to understand the world around me. I was kid who had been very reluctant to grow up. Even now, when I think of high school, I still think of myself as a kid. I was a kid for most part of my school life, and in fact got out of the cocoon to spread my wings very late in life. But then, even now, I haven’t grown in the real worldly sense, I doubt if I would ever grow up.
The idea of not getting attached to things that Vi talks about in her post, did sound too close to me. For with or without my knowledge for a long time in my life, I had lived a life that way, except that I had been attached to a person way too much and it did hurt real bad when that person had to leave me and go. But this person had been my real life example who taught me with her life, not to get attached to anything in life. I was learning to comprehend the world around me. Like how every kid first comprehends the one that’s closest to him/her, (mostly the mother) I started looking at and asking questions of whatever my granny did.
She never had anything to her, when I say anything I really mean it. All she left for us, when she died were 2 worn out sarees which actually is a treasure beyond measure for us. She never collected anything in life. Not that she had a great cushioned life where she can go collecting stuff. But even when she did have a cushioned life towards the last 2 decades of her life, she never collected and discouraged us from adding stuff too. Whatever I am today or I have made of myself as of today, is all because of her. Not that I have done anything great; but what little has been possible, has become possible because of her. She is the reason and the person who is mostly responsible for whatever I am today.
Everything I have today, right from my values, to my knowledge in cooking, to my attitude in life, to my attitude towards anything in life, the basics were learnt from her. She instilled pride in me. She instilled the attitude to aim at perfection in what little work I do. She instilled in me that there is pride in washing utensils and washing clothes and in mopping the floor. No work is less or no work is great. She laid the foundation in me and my brother when we were kids and made us get to wherever we are today. I cannot say that we have achieved anything great, but I do know she was proud of the human beings that she created in us. She taught us to be ourselves and most important to be comfortable of who we are. Above all, she taught us how to be both ambitious and contented.
All she had was another nine yards saree that she would need the next day to wear. She lived a life with nothing else to call hers. She did have a lot of people around her. She had her son, her daughter and 7 grandkids. But things, she had none. As we started growing up, me and my brother realized that she did need a 3rd saree and she was denying herself. Sometimes, during rainy days when we used retunr from school and hug her, we would feel that her clothes were damp. The few days that it rains in Madras, can many times leave a 9 yards saree remain damp even after the 20 odd hours it had had to dry.
Oh, I still remember how much we had to force her to have a 3rd saree. Even then she complied more for our sake than her own. She did not want us hugging her in that dampness for fear of getting us sick. As I said earlier, there were days when clothes would not dry in Madras because of rains; of course they are just a few days in a year, but with just 2 sarees in place and they being 9 yards, you can imagine, how difficult it would be to find a dry one in rains.
I can easily visualize the color of her saree and feel the smell of her in that saree. It always used to be the same colors with the replacement happening in the very same colors again. One of them would be a dark green, one a dark blue and the other a dark maroon and all would have some kind of thread work done for 1/4 inch as a border on both ends of the saree. Every year she would replace them and discard the old ones. For that, dad would pay the money to my aunt to get them, for then dad did not know much about sarees. But even way after, that became a habit and it was aunt who always got granny her sarees, but mind you, dad has to pay for it. Grannies and their idiosyncrasies :-)
I remember asking her many times, 'why do you always wear the same color and why is it that athai should buy it to you?' She would give that beautiful smile of hers and say ‘Oh, it started because, your appa did not know what to look for in a saree when buying and athai did not have that kind of money to spare then, but now that it has become a habit, I don’t want to change it. Plus, it is your dad who pays for it anyway. And I enjoy it that my daughter gets it for me from the shop. So both of them together take care of their mother’s need. Moreover, all you need is some clothing to cover yourself up. What is there in a color? It should be clean; that’s all there is to it. Why give it too much of importance. Get too much attached to such mundane things they will start ruling you.’
Many times, I wish I learned to live a life like her. She knew to find joy in simple small things around her. Unlike many granny’s whom I have seen, she knew how to laugh. For a woman who was widowed in her late 20s she sure knew how to be happy. I am still learning and I know I have a long long way to go ahead of me, not that I am a collector of things, but still :-)
I still feel this is incomplete, but in part this is complete, in a whole sense incomplete though. Writing about her will always be incomplete for I can never get words to express what I feel for her to my satisfaction. I am named after her, though that name is not my official name, in my family circle, I am known to carry her name. Hope she blesses me to carry on her attitude towards life too. Is it this that they call detached attachment?
Eventually, I did start writing this one, the very day that I made that comment (18 September 2007 at 3:49 pm), but then, some how I got digressed in my daily rush of activities that it lay forgotten amidst all my files. Guess today is a day to get nostalgic. When I was clearing up my folders, I stumbled upon this incomplete write-up and said, let me make some logical conclusion to the fragment idea of mine.
Vi’s said post made me rewind and go back in life to the times when I was at high school. That was the time when I was starting to understand the world around me. I was kid who had been very reluctant to grow up. Even now, when I think of high school, I still think of myself as a kid. I was a kid for most part of my school life, and in fact got out of the cocoon to spread my wings very late in life. But then, even now, I haven’t grown in the real worldly sense, I doubt if I would ever grow up.
The idea of not getting attached to things that Vi talks about in her post, did sound too close to me. For with or without my knowledge for a long time in my life, I had lived a life that way, except that I had been attached to a person way too much and it did hurt real bad when that person had to leave me and go. But this person had been my real life example who taught me with her life, not to get attached to anything in life. I was learning to comprehend the world around me. Like how every kid first comprehends the one that’s closest to him/her, (mostly the mother) I started looking at and asking questions of whatever my granny did.
She never had anything to her, when I say anything I really mean it. All she left for us, when she died were 2 worn out sarees which actually is a treasure beyond measure for us. She never collected anything in life. Not that she had a great cushioned life where she can go collecting stuff. But even when she did have a cushioned life towards the last 2 decades of her life, she never collected and discouraged us from adding stuff too. Whatever I am today or I have made of myself as of today, is all because of her. Not that I have done anything great; but what little has been possible, has become possible because of her. She is the reason and the person who is mostly responsible for whatever I am today.
Everything I have today, right from my values, to my knowledge in cooking, to my attitude in life, to my attitude towards anything in life, the basics were learnt from her. She instilled pride in me. She instilled the attitude to aim at perfection in what little work I do. She instilled in me that there is pride in washing utensils and washing clothes and in mopping the floor. No work is less or no work is great. She laid the foundation in me and my brother when we were kids and made us get to wherever we are today. I cannot say that we have achieved anything great, but I do know she was proud of the human beings that she created in us. She taught us to be ourselves and most important to be comfortable of who we are. Above all, she taught us how to be both ambitious and contented.
All she had was another nine yards saree that she would need the next day to wear. She lived a life with nothing else to call hers. She did have a lot of people around her. She had her son, her daughter and 7 grandkids. But things, she had none. As we started growing up, me and my brother realized that she did need a 3rd saree and she was denying herself. Sometimes, during rainy days when we used retunr from school and hug her, we would feel that her clothes were damp. The few days that it rains in Madras, can many times leave a 9 yards saree remain damp even after the 20 odd hours it had had to dry.
Oh, I still remember how much we had to force her to have a 3rd saree. Even then she complied more for our sake than her own. She did not want us hugging her in that dampness for fear of getting us sick. As I said earlier, there were days when clothes would not dry in Madras because of rains; of course they are just a few days in a year, but with just 2 sarees in place and they being 9 yards, you can imagine, how difficult it would be to find a dry one in rains.
I can easily visualize the color of her saree and feel the smell of her in that saree. It always used to be the same colors with the replacement happening in the very same colors again. One of them would be a dark green, one a dark blue and the other a dark maroon and all would have some kind of thread work done for 1/4 inch as a border on both ends of the saree. Every year she would replace them and discard the old ones. For that, dad would pay the money to my aunt to get them, for then dad did not know much about sarees. But even way after, that became a habit and it was aunt who always got granny her sarees, but mind you, dad has to pay for it. Grannies and their idiosyncrasies :-)
I remember asking her many times, 'why do you always wear the same color and why is it that athai should buy it to you?' She would give that beautiful smile of hers and say ‘Oh, it started because, your appa did not know what to look for in a saree when buying and athai did not have that kind of money to spare then, but now that it has become a habit, I don’t want to change it. Plus, it is your dad who pays for it anyway. And I enjoy it that my daughter gets it for me from the shop. So both of them together take care of their mother’s need. Moreover, all you need is some clothing to cover yourself up. What is there in a color? It should be clean; that’s all there is to it. Why give it too much of importance. Get too much attached to such mundane things they will start ruling you.’
Many times, I wish I learned to live a life like her. She knew to find joy in simple small things around her. Unlike many granny’s whom I have seen, she knew how to laugh. For a woman who was widowed in her late 20s she sure knew how to be happy. I am still learning and I know I have a long long way to go ahead of me, not that I am a collector of things, but still :-)
I still feel this is incomplete, but in part this is complete, in a whole sense incomplete though. Writing about her will always be incomplete for I can never get words to express what I feel for her to my satisfaction. I am named after her, though that name is not my official name, in my family circle, I am known to carry her name. Hope she blesses me to carry on her attitude towards life too. Is it this that they call detached attachment?
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