Healing Aura

It gets tougher

And a bit messier

Hey, woman

Get stronger!

Mountains to climb

Oceans to swim

Hey, woman

Realize that dream!

Unstoppable grit

And sensitivity too

Hey, woman

It’s only you!

Give credence

To “Goddesses”

Hey, woman

Be your own nemesis!

Happy Women’s Day 2011

14^th February (2011) is most often than not such a happy day. I experienced a very different kind of valentine feeling today – one which touched my heart in a very different and potent way. I met one of my office friends’ after practically one whole month and just last week I was wondering where she was.

She looked a tad washed out and tired, making me think – maybe she had been sick and badly so. I asked her the obvious question and she nodded (she is habitually a very silent person – you have to probe and pry to open her up). Old habits die hard and I was not satisfied with the answer. Her eyes looked so full of pain. “What happened?” I asked. “I had an abortion!” the words hit me bang at my core as if I had lost my own and in spite of myself my hand was on her back soothing her.

Her eyes immediately filled with unshed tears. I cursed myself. The company bus arrived before I could convey my regret and pain at her loss. Even now as I type this my day has been incomplete, I could not relieve one would-have-been mom’s guilt, pain at not being able to carry her child to full term. My friend this is a valentine to you from your baby!

I know just how badly

You wanted me mom

How much you persisted

Your love for me was firm

It’s difficult to love

Someone you never saw

But believe me mom

I love you so much more

I promise you mom

It’s only a matter of time

This separation is short

I will be back in no time

So give nature a chance

To again bring us together

To be tied in such a bond

Strong - in every weather!

Believe in me mom

And my father in heaven

He thought it best to wait

And unite us forever!!

Her skin, it glows opulent
The smile showing her pearls
Creases adorning her face
And smile reaching her eyes

Her stature tall and erect
Is it an exercise in carraige?
And the inclination of her chin
Tells of difficulties and crusade

The thin ridge of the nose
The slender arch of her spine
Nay, do not underestimate
Her strength of will and shine

The perfect shape of her crown
And its immense sense
The satirical corners of her mouth
Look out for words of substance

Yes, a work of art no less
Woman, you are elegance
Subtle and candid, all at once
A masterpiece in intelligence

Beauty without any brains
Would lose her enamor soon
Astute, She is Stunning
No matter glisten or gloom!!

I met her during the heady days of 1994, when I enrolled for the Grundstufe 1 intensive batch with Max Mueller Bhavan Mumbai to learn German. Actually, it was after I passed on to the next level - Grundstufe 2.

Chanamma was a tall, wheat-complexioned girl, maybe a couple of years older than most of the class. What initially attracted attention to her was the unapologetic regal way she carried herself. She was a girl, who was always in her element and extremely confident even in her inadequacies. Hers was an enigmatic personality. You could easily imagine her entering uncommon situations without batting an eyelid, the kind portrayed in the “James Bond” movies. No they don’t make them like that anymore, no-offence to all the ladies out there!! And there are innumerable life-lessons (though I recognized these as such much later in life) I learnt from her subconsciously in the two years, that we were fellow-students!!

Both of us were poles apart, she appeared to be a young woman of the world and I was a naïve and immature 19 year-old, just out of college. She was attractive, though today when I think of it, I would not call her beautiful, but there was something unmistakably avant-garde about her. I was thin as a rake, with typical tired intelligent eyes and reserved to the extent of obscurity. One thing going for me, though, was my aptitude for languages in general and German in particular. I don’t know how, but Chanamma soon became my constant companion. Maybe it was because we both stayed at the other end of the world on the Western Railway Route, she in Virar and I in Nalla Sopara.

Let me not be far behind in admitting, I did not suffer this companionship in good humor initially. I found nothing common between us, absolutely nothing. I made all sorts of excuses to get rid of her company, not because I did not like her, but because I felt threatened, I don’t know why. At one point of time, I thought of this feeling not as a threat, but as jealousy! When I reconsidered, I discovered I did not want to be like her, or have anything she had. Suffice it to say, to some extent our wavelengths didn’t match. She had this quality of a being a character right out of a thriller, melodramatic and larger than life, though she never portrayed it in her behavior to others. It was not how she conducted herself it was she “the person”!

It seemed she had adopted me, taken me under her wing so to say, a helpless creature needing guidance in the ways of life. She dragged me to theatres with the entire group. We studied our conjugations together, playacted our group discussions and labored over our Aufsaetze (compositions). Whenever I refused to be part of some activity she was keen on, invariably would I hear myself named “Nerd” in English and “Dummkopf” (stupid) in German!!

She hated the name Chanamma and insisted - nay demanded people call her Anju. To do justice to her, the name did not suit her at all. The name has an old-world charm, which could not be attributable to her, though her liking for gold jewellery likened very much to the jewellery bedecked statues of Indian goddesses.

Some incidences of this two-year long “Friendship” (am I allowed to call it that?) still come back to remind me of her and the lessons learnt. I remember, during the Grundstufe 3 classes, once we were gathered in the breakout area of Max Mueller Bhavan. It was early and there was some time for the class to begin. I was wearing a sweater in cream and ash, one of the guys complimented me on it, do you know what I turned around and did? I told him I had bought it from a roadside stall. The talking to I received from Chanamma, how could I be so immature, it was not good etiquette, being a girl I did not know how to accept compliments gracefully with a thank you and so on and so forth!! I promise, never ever have I committed this faux pas again, especially with guys (its fine to blush though).

Then there was this episode, when she turned up suddenly and unannounced at my house (we had still not heard of mobiles being used by middle class folks like us)! It was raining cats and dogs, a 26/7 kind of day, circumstances 100% conducive to all life coming to a standstill in Mumbai and suburbs, especially the railway. This madam wanted me to dress up and go out with her for an English movie all the way to Victoria Terminus (we had also not heard of multiplexes then). And I was shocked to witness my parents being taken in by her sweet tongue - they actually pushed me out the house. We got wet, we watched the movie (shivering away to glory in the theatre), we were blissfully at peace and without a haranguing crowd surrounding us – not in the trains and yes not in the theatre as well. Bohemian experience to say the least! And no, we did not eat hot corn, actually I don’t remember what we ate, I also don’t remember the name of the movie. But sure as hell, I remember that day and the pleasure in small things of life and doing things spontaneously – absolutely unplanned.

Another experience I always reminiscence, is the day she forced me to board a Virar fast train at Andheri station in the peak hours of evening. My God, the journey left me scared, the way we pushed into the ladies compartment, Chanamma had to literally pull me inside the compartment, right through the milling throng of people gathered to get off at the next station. My thin frame could not take the pressure of such a lot of people! I was used to travelling by train, but not from stations in-between the route, I stuck to good old stations at extremes, where I could get in and off easily. Lesson learnt, to survive in Mumbai (anywhere for that matter), you had to be strong physically and mentally.

I don’t know why I always had this feeling, that she was an accident waiting to happen. She got married – yes you guessed it – to a jeweler, who wooed her with diamonds and delivered a splitting image baby girl all in the course of one and half years!! Life was on a roll for her, it was as if, she was running out of time. Doggedness was Chanamma personified, if you wanted her to do something, tell her not to do it, and it would invariably get done. She loved travelling by crowded trains, and that’s exactly what she did, six months after her delivery. She never did reach her destination. The accident finally happened, the train was so crowded, she was pushed out and was seriously injured. She went into a comma and never came out of it. Her daughter must be about 16 now, a chip of the old block perhaps?

When you are part of a gathering
But still a third person wondering
Are we the same girls blundering
or mature women, remembering

A kind of journey with reflection
Spanning two decade’s separation
Everyone is each other’s apparition
Is someone else your aspiration?

Have some had it easy? Really?
Have some battled demons stoically
Bruises hidden by a smiling-face ally
Or beauty unmarred by life’s reality

I stand there looking at them all
The stance independent and tall
Sensitivity at a moment’s call
Love shining through to enthrall

A long separation could not quash
The spontaneous camaraderie I watch
As if two decades between - a mirage
Hearts beating in a perfect chord

I saw them as lives I could easily lead
Each one unique and far from defeat
Each one radiant in her sweeping feats
One more journey into many instincts

First thing you notice about her is her curly hair. Curly, as in South-Indian curly – jet black as the night! Several will want to get entangled and never experience freedom. The eyes big as saucers with lots of mischief threatening to sweep you off your feet in unimagined ways. Again black – pitch black! In a fair face, with the typical hexagonal shape deities are sketched by Indian artists. Laughter bubbling at every instance. Maturity and a sense of purpose in the carriage. All of twenty-five and telling life “Here I come!!”

Tall with a straight bearing, regal stance, sharp features, almond eyes with an intelligent and proud sparkle in them. A strong voice and purposeful frown on the face is what catches your attention. Of the mettle women were made of, during Rani of Jhansi’s time. You could well imagine her fighting a war and winning it too. Maybe, that’s what is enormously beautiful about her. Writing is unmistakable – “I came up the winner in spite of all that life has dealt me.”

A Mona Lisa smile, taking on the world without so much of a trace of what wounds lie hidden underneath. Enormous energy to help people and an immense ability for love and compassion for others, having received none herself. Charming and indispensable to all who know her. Of the clan who nurtured societies and build bridges. “I have quit fighting, I long for peace and love!!”

This is not the beauty revered in cosmetic advertisements. Not attributed to women dissatisfied with their outward appearance. This beauty shines from within on faces of women, who least think of cosmetics, who are unaware, they are beautiful. Women who know their core and are satisfied with their inner person. UNSUNG, NO DOUBT, BUT EXTREMELY BEAUTIFUL ALL THE SAME.