An Institution Called Mami

Mami in my language means the wife of Mama. Mind you now – Mama is not mother, but the brother of mother. The inadequacy of English language stares starkly in my face when I think of words such as these. To an English-speaking person, all are reduced to a common denominator of Uncle, while in my language there is a distinction between the brother of mom and the brother of dad – and more.

That’s beside the point, however.

In the garden, in the evening, several playful children were excitedly screaming, “Mami! Look here!” I looked, too. I saw the swings and slides and stuff. The kids were pulling the hands of a slender, young lady who was the Mami to those kids. The lady had a warm expression on her face, she was smiling and was willingly being pulled.

Yesterday was the last day of Diwali vacation for many kids, and they must have come to the park to have their last bit of fun. Further – these must be the kids who would have come to their Mama’s home for the vacation.

Ah! And I saluted the tradition that you go to Mama’s home for the vacation. Do we do it anymore? Could anyone go to Mama’s home break after break for weeks at a time and enjoy? Would Mami take you out to play and make your vacations fun-filled? Can your mama really invite you if it weren’t for the loving, warm, tolerant Mami?

Lucky are those who have such Mamis! (I and my kids are lucky to have them!)

Oh my God! Memories of vacations at Mama’s home are flooding.. Do you have these memories, too? Are you Mama or Mami to someone?

Rx, Wilderness

Wilderness is amazing.

Sometimes I realize it only after I meet her after  a really long time. but what it said to me was like a soothing medication to an ailing soul. Hence the title – a prescription for the like-minded.

In the wilderness, one day I woke up to this unbearable lightness of being (Do you read Kundera?)

.. And I hurriedly took a shower

The nature was bountiful – there was abundance of everything – peace, beauty, Life. Yet, I saw Thirst with arms outstretched..

I saw the fallen -

And also realized that falling is not a question of degrees

Especially when I saw ones who were down but not out..

..and the green, the life fighting with own twin dryness and death within

So I, too, stretched my arms full length

.. and decided not to fret too much when I can’t get all my lines straight – after all,  nature has difficulty doing that, too -

I reminded myself not to focus too hard on the dunes, the sky or the earth, the greens, the lush or the parched in isolation – it’s the total picture that matters.

Has wilderness said something to you of late?

The Address of a Soul

Diwali banter is good. People meet friends, friends’ friends and all have a light moment or two through the lazy chats that need no destination – you win a bonus if some words leave a spark somewhere.

As a couple visited another, the hosts already had guests. Introductions followed and all found that they all shared links to one particular city. One of the three women was introduced as the one who was ‘heavily invested in there’ because two of her most loved ones were stationed there.The woman said, “That’s right. If I died this moment, I would haunt that city.”

It reminded me of the stories in which the Rakshas (=demon) lives in one place but he safe-keeps his soul someplace else.

What the demons did for tricking enemies changes slightly when loved ones go away. Deep love unites deeply. It seems that with the departed loved ones our soul also journeys.

And at moments when the memories of the loved ones emerge on the surface consciousness, the Diya – the lamp – lights quietly in distance invisible to the eye. If you ever want to know where your soul is, just close the eyes and see where the lamp is burning steady and bright. That is the address of your soul.