The Art of Forgiving

Few days back, one of my best friends posted a beautiful status on her Facebook wall. It read : " I feel thankful to my Aama everyday.....she has taught me The Art of Giving; and I realise it today...how big a thing it is...and how difficult it is for people to learn it..appreciating, loving, laughing...living. Not everybody can do that!"

Isn't it a beautiful expression? I kept thinking about it, and realized that there are two things that are most difficult for people to practice. One is giving, that my friend already pointed out. The other is forgiving.

Like my friend, it is my mother who taught me the art of both giving and forgiving. Mahatma Gandhi rightly said that "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong." I realize how strong my mother has been. I wont say that I have been very good at it, but I have tried. I have let go off the hurt. I have come out of my anger. I have risen above trivialities.

Obviously, I have made a lot of mistakes. I have probably hurt many. I thank everyone who had a strong heart to forgive me for my mistakes, my words, my decisions.

My to-do's

With so much free time at my disposal, I dont know what to do of it. After spending more than 20 months with absolutely no free time for myself, I have got so used to be being busy and doing things from my 'To-do-list' that I now dont know how to make the best use of the time when I dont really have a list.

I am not a creative. I cant paint, I cant write poetry. I used to make a lot of fancy stuffs when I was a school student, but as I have grown older, I dont know where did that interest vanish. Watching television is not my favorite passtime (even more so when we dont have one at our place). Facebooking has got on my nerves. I sleep more than eight hours at night so no day time napping. With all the alternatives exhausted, I am left with very few options.

Now, I am not the kind of person who can enjoy free-time. I am not trained to be that way. I start getting paranoid. I start whining. I get restless. I feel useless. So, just to make me feel good about myself, I have prepared a fictitious list of things that i need to take care of. They are nothing important but I have just made a list out of them just to feel useful.

My list includes: Complete reading Lolita, register for this test, go to a wedding party on Friday and Sunday, make plans to entertain K who is arriving on Saturday. The list is stupid, I know, but this is the best I can do at the moment.

For you...A

A and I kind of grew up together, or thats how I see it at least. We were not friends since our 'diaper' days. It was late in life that our paths crossed. We were studying in different schools till our primary and ended up in the same school for our secondary education. I say we grew up together because for me growing up together means more than just playing hide and seek during childhood. It means growing up from being just school girls to mature women.

A was always searching for a 'best friend', someone she could share all her heart had. In school, our close circle of friends included seven of us. Each one of us had our own 'best friend' in the group, except for A. This was something too sad for her. I now find this word quite inappropriate. We have so many best friends in our lives that it is unfair to just call one person our best friend. But way back then, we did not look it that way.

My fondest memory with A is going to tuitions together. We both had bicycles but we loved walking together. So, most of the times, I would bring my bicycle, park it at her place and walk to the tuition centre. We would come back walking to her house, I would take my bicycle and ride it back home. Those were precious moments for us. We had so much to tell to each other, so much to share.

Soon after we passed our SLC, A came to Kathmandu for her High School and then she left for USA for her Undergraduate education. She was away for 6 years, and I wouldnt say that we were best at keeping in touch. We had our occasional updates, but nothing like good friends have. But friendship is a beautiful thing. Even after all these years, our bonding has remained the same. She came back to Nepal in 2010 and we still have so much to tell to each other, so much to share.

We have shared with each other the highs and lows of our lives. We have seen our relationships blossom, we have seen them crumble. We have laughed together, and we have cried together. We have loved each other and we have fought.

Just in few hours, she will be with her man. A was always a dreamer. She had a certain set of criteria for her good man. It would concern us sometimes. I mean it was hard to imagine a person with all the qualities that she wanted in her life partner. But here she is, ready to vow herself to this person. He must be special, for A has chosen to spend her life with him.

As she steps into her new life, I wish my friend, my best friend, all the happiness that she deserves. Mucho love.

My travels and my mom's rituals

Last year has been a lot of traveling to and forth the two cities I call my homes. It has been overwhelming. It is very funny but everytime I switch places, I tend to forget the former place I was in. I mean when I am in Birgunj, I barely think about my life in Kathmandu. It is like it doesn't exist. I start having trouble relating myself to it. It must also be because everytime I am in Birgunj, I am just too busy in the mundane affairs of the house to even think about anything. Kathmandu ceases to exist for me. I forget that I have lived here for more than eight years. During the times that I am working, I forget that I have a job. Sometimes, I even forget that I have friends in Kathmandu. I know its weird. Oh, thats what I can be at times.

This post however, is not about this. It is about the little things that I enjoy during my travels, especially from Birgunj. My mom is old-fashioned (and I love her that way), especially when it comes to traveling. She makes her calculations when any of us is traveling. She will not let us travel on certain days of the week, certain days on the lunar calendar. For instance, we are not not allowed to travel on Wednesdays and on the night of New Moon . My married sisters cant leave their in-laws' house on Saturdays. Though I find all of it stupid, I secretly enjoy these auspices.

Second, everytime I am leaving home, my mom will put Tika on my forehead and give me something sweet to eat, mostly jaggery. If I am leaving early in the morning, she will wake up long before I wake up, take a bath, prepare the thali with red vermilion, rice, jaggery and that 500 rupee note :) She will wake me up, ask me what I want to eat for breakfast, and what I want to carry for the road. She will cook anything I ask her to. Even if i am not hungry, she will coerce me to finish off what is on my plate because it is not auspicious to leave home without eating.

While I am ready to hop inside the car or take a rickshaw, she is always busy looking for a good sign. Over the years, I have learnt of few of them. For example, it is a very good sign to see green vegetables. If a vegetable seller is passing by, she will instantly buy some greens from him and put them in my bag. It is also a good omen to see sweepers, road cleaners, and the like. If she sees them, she is more than happy to give them some money. Also, it is very auspicious to see a married woman.

After I have left, she will come back inside the house, take two lotas (water vessels), go to a public tap, fill them with water, bring them back in the house and put them in the kitchen. The vessels remain in the kitchen until the time I have called her to let her know that I have reached safely.

On the day I leave, she will not deep-fry anything, will not use broom, not wash her hair, and not eat beaten rice. She follows all these rules with the kind of faith that I want to believe in. All these might have no meaning. Following or not following them might have no connection with my safety during the travels, but I love it when she does all this for me. I have grown up see her follow these rituals and over the years I have come to love the beauty of it all.

I might not follow all of them myself as I grow old, but I will carry in my heart the memory of these beautiful little things that my mother did for me and all of us! <3

Blog Stalker that I am !

Yes, I admit it. I am a blog stalker. I love reading what other people write, to know how they think, to learn about them, their perceptions. When I come across a really nice blog, I exhaust myself up until I have reached the first entry made by the blogger. By the time I have reached that first entry, I have made a close connection with the blogger. I feel like I have discovered a good chunk of his/her personality, life, relationships, faith.

Then there are some blogs which I follow regularly. I love reading them. Sometimes, I envy them for their gift of writing. Sometimes, I envy the people they write for. What beautiful words, what beautiful expressions! I wish I could write as often as some of my favorite bloggers do. I wish I could write with as much ease, as if the words were flowing effortlessly, as if they are talking to the readers.

This post is dedicated to all those amazing bloggers, who inspire me.

THE BIG FAT INDIAN WEDDING...

....Just over and done with one. O Life! What a Relief !