Living as an Empath.

An Empath is some one who understand others emotions. To put it simply.

But how hard or easy life will be once you are an empath. When you feel everybody's pain right on. If not at an equal level probably to some amount. When one cannot handle ones own pain, how can one handle ten different kinds of pain and trouble and emotions.

Wont that also give us a deep understanding of all around us. What makes them do, things they do. We will be more understanding more tolerant. We will handle all situations tactfully, the world will be a different place.

Somewhere I believe that we all have an empath within us. Just that we dont explore it beyond our loved ones, isnt it always good to blame rather than sit and think what caused all this. Or best shut off our brains as we know the situation is not going to last for long, so why try to understand.

All said and done, being an empath will be terrible, cause then I'l know that I have no one to blame as I understand who-dunnit-why :-)

A dash of stardust pls.

This is a real sweet dialog I heard in the movie "Stardust". I could not but think of preserving it some place for me to come back and read it again and again. So what better place then my blog :-)

"You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I'm trying to say, Tristan is... I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no fits. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine."

The hint of a smell.

Have you ever travelled down the memory lane just by the hint of a smell. The smell of tadka and fresh made rotis take me back home. And it is hard not to remember my mom. How she struggled to teach me cooking. Constantly nagging me to get the perfect round roti. When I used to carry my books in kitchen, read aloud my lessons and make rotis in 11th std. And ending up making maps of non-existent countries. I still do curse my brothers for making fun of my rotis and never appreciating it when now I am a roti pro.

I must be too much of a foodie cause the next smell etched in my memory is that of my moms cake. I went to this random bakery shop, and it had its oven just backdoor, and there was this strong mixed fragrance of vanilla, baked floor, cinnamons, sweet hot vapours coming out of that door. The bakery still comes alive in front of my eyes, and I did compliment the owner that you have floored me long before buying anything, how he smiled generously and talked very warmly to me. That bakery shop transported me to our house where I was handyman of my mom when baking cakes. cleaning, clearing clutter, cutting things, at beck and call. Me and my family used to poke our noses 10 times in the oven to check if the cake is done or not. And the house was filled with warmth and sweet smelling spices.

The smell of wet grass, decaying leaves reminds me of my university days, when we went hunting for boundaries of our 2400 acres of university. Some wild spirit we had.

The smell of dry grass reminds me of hot summer. Scortching heat of southern India.

The distant smell of cold fresh breeze brings back memories of the cloudy skies, that soon transform there colors to darker shades of grey and then you see rain descending down. The rain lashes the earth and a hot puff of steam from the ground hits your senses. Soon you are surrounded by the earthen smell, the cloudy skies, the cold rain water. And it reminds of some long forgotten hard to recollect memory that leaves you sighing.

And my romance with smells continues, wanting for more.

In search of peace.

I was recently at a home decor expo with my friends. Time and again I have seen Buddha paintings at such expos and usual home decor shops. I always wondered when am I going to paint one. There is something about this painting that I always liked. And I know what it is. It brings a sense of peace to me whenever I look at those closed eyes and calm face. There was a vague idea if I could manage to get, even a hint of that peace in the painting I'l get some peace for myself.

Unsung forever

ther is a song, unsung in my heart.
i dont want to let it go,i dont wish it to die.
but with every passing day
i realize its going to die.
it is a wild song.
of birds who wanted to fly,
of the butterflies who didnt see the spring,
a song of the trees who couldnt reach the skies.

my song lies unsung
just as the heroes of the war,
those that died young.
not the war played at battlegrounds,
but those at every street and corner,
in homes and not always won.

a song that touches your soul
and brings loneliness to the heart.
tells you what are you deep down,
reminds you of the long forgotten,
fire burning in you.
but my song, is unsung
cause i fear, that when it is sung,
i will be left empty, more than i am now.

Back to the roots.

Every time i go back to my moms village i am taken back. I have been visiting that place for ages but it hasn't changed a bit. its still the same old village with no water supply. People still relying on well water and water from nearby dam which most of the time is dry. Nobody still has electricity and people rely on what is termed as there 'dokality', 'doka' meaning head in marathi. You would get the humor if you know marathi, else don't bother. But the 'dokality' here is that the farmers hook up a wire in the live wires running from poles and attach one to the connection in the switchboard and other in a copper plate which is dug deep in earth. Every time there is voltage fluctuation, they add water to the earth where the copper plate is dug. Which is highly risky off course. But the irrigation of crop plus house hold electricity comes from this sort of arrangement. I don't know what is the tax payers loss here. And the plight does not end here. There are no septic tanks no toilets. People have to relieve themselves in wastelands. Those were basic amenities that we take for granted in cities. Electricity. Water. Sanitation. But the most ridiculous thing is that they are not aware of how to store there own produce. The grains, the edibles everything that is grown on the farms is either sold out in cheap rates to middleman or let to rot. Part is foolishness part is lack of knowledge. A simple piece of knowledge as to how to store produce effectively causing huge losses. Not only financially but socially as well. The poorly paid farmers end up being frustrated, resort to drinking alcohol. There families suffer the village suffers the nation suffers. The village remains as it is for ages, lost.

A Salute

i was a terrible kid, who grew up with 2 brothers. who always asked me not to behave like a girl. well that was tuff on me. a girl not to behave as a girl. i was the class bully consistently for the 12 years of my schooling. in college i maintained the reputation by enrolling in NCC and well beating up cadets. i was into worst of fights. in my masters days i ended up again being center of controversy cause i managed to convice my 40 classmates that we should boycott our seniors. well i heard the worst musik of my life for that. so with all this history i have gelled more with boys in my life then girls. they are more willing being partner in crime then girls. and well some most lovely ladies who where ever they are, for sure will stand out of the crowd as unique :-) this all retrospection is cause my dear friend asked me to pen down my opinion on men. well that is a really hard one. at least for me who tends to over look the lighter side of things. but, well let me try my hand on this. this is for you dear sam.

i might not have seen this most beautiful transformation of a person from a very strict parent to the most loving person on this earth who sheds tonnes of tears for me, my dad. my humble salute to him and all the dads.

the growing up pangs. it is a difficult world for guys to grow up, is what i understood on seeing my younger brother grow. a salute to all guys for facing this world like a man.

the family responsibility. the bread earner. a huge percentage of families are still patriarchal. i have seen my elder brother struggle to become one. a salute to all the young men, who took there dads responsibility on there shoulders.

the assuring hug. i have been blessed with the greatest friend who hugged me purely for the fact that i am hes depressed friend and not cause i am a girl. i'l owe you that thoughtful hug all my life. a salute for the king sized heart.

the puppy face that guys make to act cute, i know what is coming after that, but i still should be true and say that i love it whenever they make one.

the lavish attention i am bestowed on where ever i go, all the free meals i got when ever i travelled, courtesy fellow male travellers ;-) and a big sorry for lying about my cell number and whereabouts.