Cloud Nine

(picture is from internet)

Dom and Louisa were inseparable. Coming from diverse backgrounds this miracle occurred with head bumps.friendship sprouted. Both were good in their studies and in a healthy spirit of rivalry, their relationship flourished. The only cloud in their lives was the green eyed monster. Both were wildly popular and had many friends of both sexes. This made each one jealous of the other’s close friends. Being of volatile Latin blood, their anger did not take long to boil over. They would not talk to each other for days. Then they would kiss and make up.

In an experiment undertaken by the city’s Education dept, economically weak kids were bused to affluent neighborhoods. Louisa was one such kid and Dom came from an aristocratic background. She was made to sit with Dom. They were both eight years old.

Their relationship began with a bang on their heads and dislike. But gradually they became aware of each other and when Dom rescued Louisa from being mercilessly teased by a bunch of boys, their

When this liking turned to love was hard to pinpoint. Both families were unhappy about this alliance but seeing their determination, they gave in grudgingly.

It is wedding rehearsal day. Elders from both families wil be meeting for first time. Only the parents had met before. Then a miracle happened. When everyone gathered, Louisa’s grandmother stared at an elderly gentleman across the table. It was Dominic’s great uncle David Vargas. Then she asked “Are your parents Louisa and David Souza?’ Seeing the uncle’s nod, she squealed delightfully tears streaming down her cheeks. David realizes he was staring at his long lost sister Louisa. Louisa had runaway from home at the age of seventeen because her family was forcing her to join the convent. She had no desire to become a bride of Christ. So she ran away to America. Luckily on the boat she met a fellow Spaniard and together they found a place to stay and later got married. Now there were no qualms as far as this alliance was concerned. In fact everyone said Louisa was lucky for them. She was the spitting image of her grandma. It became a family affair. Everyone beamed.

The bride and groom said their vows and kissed. The cake was cut. Suddenly, Dominic pulls out a knife from his pocket! Everyone is shocked and stare at him. Louisa’s mouth opens and eyes quizz. Dominic calls out to his best man to bring out the surprise. The best man lays down two green dolls on the table. With great fanfare a boy and girl doll in green color were produced. With a flourish, Dom presents the knife to Louisa and asks her to stab the girl doll to put an end to all their petty jealousies. He does likewise. There is a burst of applause. He starts their marriage without a single dark cloud.

Now they are truly gliding on cloud nine.

Let Me In

Slight lift of eyebrow
Glimmer of thought
Semblance of smile

Dainty flick of wrist
Quick mental whisk
Salty dew drops

Shared tender love
Tendrils of affection
Kisses, make up

Aching heart heavy
Mourns memory loss
Time robbed us both honey!

picture from internet

Maria’s Cry

Eve of September 11, 2001

“Daddy please  hurry! I am unable to breath! I am scared” she whimpered. 

Lou woke up in dead sweat!   The piteous cries belonged to his beloved Maria.

Maria, Mat, Mark were his beloved triplets.  Lou, Mark and Matt were cops, posted in Lower Manhattan.

September 11, 2001

Horrified, New York and world watched toppling of TwinTowers.  Maria worked on twenty second floor.  Many jumped out of windows, she headed for stairs.

Detectives Lou, Matt, Mark rushed to disaster area.  Frantically they searched the rubble.   Police dogs helped save many.  Clinging to hope on a wing and prayer they searched as buried Maria cried for help :   “Daddy please  hurry! I am unable to breath! I am scared”

Maria was sure her family would save her.  She kept calling from cell every few minutes.  Dogs sniffed following the sound but Maria was buried deep. With bare bleeding hands, they cleared debris like wild men.  Time was running out. 

One last push created a passageway.  Slim Mark crawled inside.  The cell phone beeped for the last time.    Marked  hurried on .  His elbow hit something.  He saw his sister’s handbag.  He moved on.  He reached dead end.

Maria watched as her daddy and brothers searched for her shouting her name.  She was perplexed.  She was standing next to them.

Nightly she whimpers:   “Daddy please  hurry! I am unable to breath! I am scared”

Note: this is based on a true event. A dear friend lost her niece that day.

Victor’s Dream – Part One

Victor’s Dream
Shomu was a lovable child who loved his family very much.  Being eldest, he wanted to grow up hurriedly and give his Mother whom he called Amu and (dad)Baba, a hand.  Early on he became aware of their daily grind to provide for his two brothers and him. 

Baba was a cobbler and polished shoes also.  In his skilled hands even old worn out shoes got a new lease in life.    His mom sewed and repaired for the neighborhood on an ancient machine which was diligently oiled and kept fit.  The three children attended the local school as their baba wanted them to find another profession as cobblers had meager earnings.

Shomu always considered himself a winner and often wished he could change his name to Victor.  He was very fond of this word which he had learnt in his English class.  Slowly the family started calling him Vicky to please him and the old name Shomu was forgotten.

After school, Vicky would run home and help his brothers with homework and his beloved amu with household chores before joining his baba.  He relished polishing shoes and make them shine.  Baba would indulge him but only after ensuring that he had finished his school homework.  Vicky would whistle happily and shine shoes to his heart’s content.  He always got a bit more in tips than his baba.  It was mainly his happy face and cheerful manner that pleased their clientele. 

Vicky had just turned sixteen when he was forced to run his baba’s shoe repair business alone as they’d lost him tragically when a bus with failed brakes mowed him down along with others in its path.  After a lot of hue and cry the bus owners had given each victim’s family a large sum of money.  Vicky’s amu had quickly banked the money for her sons’ higher education and in case there was an emergency.  Vicky joined night school so that he could work in morning to help amu manage the house.  He also ensured that his brothers studied hard and did not get into bad company.

Sen Dada was a regular customer of his baba and now Victor’s. He was in the lottery business.  Each month he’d jested with baba that he should buy a lottery ticket as he’d surely win.  Sen Dada always told baba he was a lucky man indeed with three obedient sons and a hard working bahu (wife).  Baba had remained impassive and always refused
to buy a lottery ticket that cost Rupees twenty.  Now again, Sen Dada tried to sell the lottery ticket.  But Victor stuck to his guns and shook his head and continued shining the shoes.  The shoes literally glistened and Sen Dada could see his face in them.  He was delighted and decided to gift a lottery ticket instead of paying for his shoeshine.  Victor in a weak moment accepted the ticket, breaking his baba’s rule.  He apologized to baba in his heart.

 

On his way home, Victor stopped at the nearby Durgabaari

and placed the ticket in front of Kali Ma asking for her blessing.  He also told Kali Ma that as far back as he could recall he had always felt like a winner and maybe this ticket would get his family out of poverty and a better way of life.  Then he sped home.

 

The lottery was a bumper one and the prize money was a whopping fifty lakh rupees.  Every Calcuttan who could afford twenty bucks had bought a ticket.  The momentum had built up and the excitement was palpable and could be cut with a knife.  The madness and razor edge excitement was akin to the one when India played cricket with their arch enemies Pakistan.  Next morning was the drawing day. 

   

Sen Dada always kept ten tickets for himself.  Now he held nine as the tenth one he had gifted to Victor. 

The numbers were announced and everyone rushed to buy the evening paper as it carried the results in print.  Victor had been so busy whole day long that he had completely forgotten about the ticket.    Suddenly he heard sounds of drum beats approaching as a group of ten of so of his friends and family approached with Sen Dada leading them.

 

Dada came near and embraced him like a son.  He said, “Victor, you are indeed a Victor.  Your ticket has won the prize money.”  Victor’s mouth fell open.  Then pure joy coursed through his veins making him giddy with happiness.  He pulled the ticket out of his pocket and it matched the numbers in the evening paper.  Suddenly Victor uttered the words, “Where should I keep it, what should I do?  Where should I keep it, what should I do?”  He kept muttering these sentences over and over again.  Victor had lost his mind after his victory!

http://www.binaguptapoetry.com/vicors-dream-part-two-1106.htm

all pictures are from the internet disclaimer

A Journey- a Connection

A Journey- a Connection

 

Sometimes, certain journeys are like a renaissance painting, a bit blurred but pleasant on the eye and soul soothing.  Such were the trips we’d made consecutively a few years ago during our visit to India.

My sister has great faith in this particular Devi shrine in Himachal and both times she was delighted to have us n make it a family outing.

We piled into a Tata Sumo van in wee hours.  Bro-in-law’s  best friend Jay likes to drive.  After invoking  Hindu god Ganesh and   goddess shakti also knowns as “devi” we were on our way.  Jay is a diehard fan of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan hence out of his copious pockets he withdrew some tapes and we were treated to some soulful sufi music.   We were entranced.  The mood was set for the trip.

I have absolutely no road sense, so will only dwell on what my mind captured on these trips.  On our way after several hours, I recall having a sumptuous meal at a  (roadside diner)   Dhaba.  Then we were climbing the mountains and the hairpin curves around white limestone/sandstone cliffs were rather daunting.  Luckily none of us was nauseous and then we had halted midway up the mountain at a Shiva shrine inside a cave.  This was a natural cave temple of Trilokpur containing a stalactite and stalagamite dedicated to Shiva. High on the ridge of the cave we saw the ruins of a palace and baradari (audience hall). Ihe Shiva temple was very ancient and we had to bend very low to enter this shrine.  Outside, there was a lovely waterfall(banganga) and I felt this is how mount Kailash would be with Ganga flowing out of the Shiva locks as he meditated.

  After paying due obeisance we were on our way reluctant to leave as it was very peaceful high up in the mountains. The Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys of lower Himalayas. Ancient Hindu Temples like Bajreshwari Devi, Chamunda Devi, Baijnath Shiv temple and Jwala Devi ji dot the country side. The valley, sheltered by the sublime Dhauladhar range, is green and luxuriant. It provides a tremendous contrast in nature.

I recall visiting the various “Devi” shrine during these trips. The one place that completely enchanted me was this ancient shrine of Mata called Bagalamukhi.    The Bankhandi temple is located on the Dehra-Dharamsala road, Kangra. There had been a rock fall and a good portion had fallen inwards inside the cave itself.  The inner sanctorum was intact and the caretakers had built a small entrance and veranda around it.  Belief had it that whatever boon you ask there will be fulfilled.  My sister firmly believed in it after a narrow escape and her husband had promised  the Devi that he would return to give thanks and hold a langar (lunch)for the local children and their families. 

After due respects everyone was busy mustering up the locals and preparing for the langar feast.  I absorbed the peace and tranquility of the place.  It was incredible.  The aura and the vibrations were amazing.  Mercifully there were no crowds and in fact at that time we were the only ones there.  I was allowed to sit in the inner sanctorum and the bliss was tangible.  I closed my eyes and meditated.  I was transported.  It was almost an out of body experience.  I was floating and drawn towards the deity. Peace descended on my bruised spirit like a soothing salve.  The Mother had taken me in her arms and removed all my hurts absorbing them and filling the void with love.  I was in a blissful state.  had journeyed within and without. This shrine’s power was quite potent and I felt it fully. I cherish this experience holding it close to my heart.

*In Hinduism, Bagalamukhi or Bagala is one of the ten mahavidya goddesses. Bagalamukhi Devi smashes the devotee’s misconceptions and delusions by her cudgel. She is also known as Pitambara in Northern Parts of India. (wiki)

**Kangra HP, rich in culture and history is sheltered by the massive Dhauladhar range of mountains and this majestic mountain range surpasses all others in its grandeur The history of Kangra valley dates back to vedic times, more than 3,500 years ago. It finds mention in the Puranas the Mahabharta and in Rajtarangani. Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys in the Himalayas. The famous Bajeshwari Devi temple is located in the town.  Kangra town is situated at the confluence of the Baner and Majhi streams, overlooking the Banganga torrent famous for temples, forts and now a speedily emerging as a business centre. There are two other important Hill stations in district Kangra known as Dharamsala and Palampur. All in all, Kangra with a numerous important temples is a great destination for people looking to go on a religious holiday escape.

Dharamshala is full of Buddhist air and McLeod Ganj is Dalai Lama’s official residence, and home to several Buddhist monasteries and thousands of Tibetan refugees.  We got a taste of mini Tibet here.  The shrine of Budhha was very majestic and peaceful. (Source-internet)

pics. from internet

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