Hold on to your faith….

Its been 4 months since I wrote. Not too surprising for me though, like I mentioned in my first post, I Am much of a ‘phasal’ writer. The year 2007 has finally come to an end. Eventful as it had been, I’m glad that we have another year or if I may add, another 10 months to look forward to. Life in its (I’d just say obvious) ways teaches us to leave our past behind and embrace what the future holds for us. Maybe for me, my writing helps me do that… 

This period of hibernation though, allowed my pen to feel happily useless lying on my desk,…guess I ought to employ it for more useful purposes sometimes….I meant to end the year on a good note and here I am 2 months into the New Year, trying my best to project those thoughts and feelings on to February.

Before we touch upon the good notes though, I feel compelled to share with you some jarring music that taught me the essence of melody (I guess that’s flowery language but it probably helps to sound esoteric at times). In the month of November, I fell rather ill. Now, even though I AND the Doctor were sure that it was one of those frequent viral attacks, after 2 weeks of antibiotics and no relief, I was asked to undergo a couple of tests. While the tests were only mildly painful (I don’t really suffer from Needle phobia), the results became a cause of concern for me. I AM a strong woman, (or so I tell myself), however, this one diagnosis shattered my peace beyond repair and from that moment on, my life became a series of miserable and confused resignations to a ubiquitous Fate , an illness that I have been trying to grapple with gracefully, a mental trauma and an incessant fear that despite being a psychologist I’ve been trying to battle with unsuccessfully.  

Sounds crazy doesn’t it?? That’s close to how I had become, balancing on the thin line that could easily allow me to slip into the realm of madness. The only thing then that helped me hold on to what we define as sanity was FAITH….faith in my Doctor and the medicines that I had been put on to, faith in my body’s ability to heal and regenerate all that had been lost, faith in my family’s and friends’ capacity to love and stay with me and most importantly, Faith in God and His blessings to keep me strong and hopeful in the adversities of life. That’s all that it takes, just one word, FAITH. This incident helped me restore the one most important relationship that I had lost in the past couple of years…my relationship with God. And as much as I have suffered and fought my fears in the past 3 months, I can only say that I am glad that this came to me. It brought me closer to my family, made me stronger as a person and most of all strengthened my belief in God and the beautiful life that He created for us. If only we learnt to respect it and value it, we’d be able to “Heal the world” and “make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race….”…There isn’t anything half as precious as this life, don’t abuse it…you’ll never know when adversity walks in through your door and takes away the only thing that is truly yours, your Life…. 

The Spirit of Love

As I gazed at the stars
Strewed in the heaven above,
A great ecstasy possessed me
And it rose again,the spirit of love.
Soon it grew restless in me,
As I looked far down to the shimmering sea.

I walked out of my cottage
On that warm summer night,
Filled with the bliss of solitude
Into that blessed heaven of moonlight.
My heart was light and I felt as though
I had drifted with the wind, blowing so low.

Dawn crept on……….
Slowly and steadily
Then I saw the first rays of the morning sun,
As though emerging from the sea that flowed so gently.
I heard the birds chirping that morning was here
And looked at the trees so evergreen and dear.

I sat there on the castle ruins
And noticed not the creeping hours of time,
I had not thought that it was a Sunday,
Until I heard the bells of the church chime.
And then towards the church I ran,
Down the path which was so less frequented by man.

My heart I felt was overflowing
With life’s sweet happiness and joy,
And then I knew that the spirit of love
Had bound me to all these natural things,
Just as a child is bound to his toy!

(This poem was written in school. Coming back from my school’s golden jubilee, the memories are so fresh in my mind. Couldn’t help but bring out the feelings from my school life here…)

‘This is for you Sir’

This should have come in way before. Its been delayed by 8 years and it took a movie like ‘Chak De India’ to make me pen this down. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, I’d say get the tickets to the next show and rush. A brilliant concept at the core and add to that even more brilliant and natural acting. It didn’t feel like a movie, it was as real as life could be. My belief that Indian movies were far removed from reality changed the instant I saw this movie. This time it formed an instant connect and here I am, sharing the feelings it evoked in me.
There’s a game and another life I associate myself with….the game is Basketball and the life is my school years. For 8 years I studied in a school that gave me everything a child could dream of. A student, a player, a performer, an achiever, a thinker and last but not the least a ‘Hero’. Ofcourse here I’m talking about the movie of our lives where each one of us plays the protagonist and as the years pass by, the villain, director and supporting actors fall in place. My support in school- my Basketball coach. I played basketball for all 8 years in school. From the junior team, I graduated to the senior team and eventually went on to become the Team Captain. The memories still seem so young and fresh. The BBCs, acronym for Basket Ball Court, IPSC-Indian Public School Conference, District championships, Woodstock tournament, Mayo, Daly college, Modern-Barakhamba and Sanawar…phew..that was the list of our closest contenders. During my tenure in school, my coach took the team for several tournaments in and outside the city. And while the school championships were a treat to revel in (most of the matches were played at our school, we had the advantage of being the Home Team), the district level championships often turned out to be nightmares in disguise- playing matches in scorching heat, spending our nights without electricity on wet carpets in municipal school classrooms, match referees playing foul in the games and a jeering crowd always ready to distract you and have you thrown out of the game. Yet, we lasted. And what made us last was the undying belief our coach had in us that we could win the game.
The first thing he taught us was discipline. From getting up at 5 a.m to playing 6 hours in a day to being thrown out from the team for unpunctuality and casual approach, we had done it all. As little as it took me to despise him for his harsh approach, I chose not to quit. He taught me to love the game and in due course of time I developed the utmost respect for his methodology and his actions. He taught the team the essence of teamwork. I can’t remember a time when I felt that I needed to outperform others and get the cup for ‘Best Player’ and the likes. I learnt that victory savored as a team was far sweeter than victory savored as an individual. The second thing I learnt from him was to develop passion for the game. They say, ’Nothing great in this world has ever been accomplished without passion’. Passion is the driving force that makes us want to do things and do them with perfection. He always said,’ Play only as much as you know and what you know but go all out. Don’t restrict yourself; give your life to this game.’ He taught us to have courage and feel confident of ourselves. He read books on Sports Psychology to understand the team better. He taught us to remain grounded in reality and never get over-confident- ‘Never underestimate your opponent’. More than a Victory v/s Failure stance, it was really about giving it your best and playing a game that compelled your opponents to congratulate you even if you had lost it. Failure always made me too harsh on myself. Every time we lost a game, I sulked and cried in frustration. My coach taught me to take defeat gracefully and learn from it rather than blame anyone for it. I learnt the spirit of sportsmanship.
I can never forget the endless number of times we were thrown out from the Team for acting like ‘Seniors’ and not listening to our coach. We would hide away in balconies and watch the moves being taught to the team, trying our best to grasp them. But despite the anger, we always came back… whether it was with apologetic faces or with ‘Sorry’ cards and flowers. If not 100%, he was right 99% of the times. Practice makes a man perfect…boy do I believe in this!!!! Endless baskets shot in practice sessions and yet endless shots missed in the game. It was always about working hard and playing even harder. Then, I didn’t understand the force and passion of my coach, today I look up to him and feel inspired by him.
And while we all believed that when leaving school, ‘Thank You’ cards did justice to conveying our gratitude to our teachers, I want to add, there will never be a greater reward for our teachers than remembering them for who they were and applying all that they taught, in our lives. I want to ‘Thank You’ Sir for making me the person that I am. You gave me the power to believe in myself, to get up every time I fell, to remain grounded in reality, to love this game and most of all, to dream big and live that dream!