"Atta-girl!"

A bit strange, this second post, right on the heels of the first, and on quite a different topic... but a really fun thing happened right now, that it would be stupid not to blog about.

I'm at work and today's Halloween, so one of my colleagues has his little four-year old daughter in to work with him, all dressed up in some princess costume. All the young women at work are fawning over her and have been talking to her and asking her stuff all morning. (I'm sitting in my corner and working, with one ear cocked out to absorb the proceedings.) So, she was just asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, and here's the answer:

"When I grow up, I want to be a vegetarian."

Currently Listening To...

... the soundtrack of The Lion King ... the musical, that is.

Some events are annual... and not in a planned way. Last year, at this time, I was blogging about The Phantom Of The Opera, listening to all its music and raving about most of it (which I still like, by the way). This year's theme seems to be The Lion King. I got hold of the songs at Fi's place over the weekend, and can't seem to stop listening to them when I'm home, since. And even when I'm not listening to the music, it still echoes in some part of my head. As I hear the words, I can see phantom figures flitting across the screen in my mind... colors, ballet, acrobatics and sheer talent come alive each time I hear the music. There's grace and power in The Lionesses Hunt, there's incredible pathos in Rafiki Mourns, there's life in One by One. I don't understand many of the words here, but I realize I can live it all without having to understand. Music transcends the boundaries of language and culture, and there's no better example than the music I'm listening to right now.

Counting Birthdays

Is it any wonder that for almost every day in this month so far I've felt like I'm forgetting a birthday? I remembered to wish Bond on the 2nd. And also remembered that it was AA's dad's birthday... I have no clue how I remember that. Then it was P's on the 5th... my current flat-mate. It was also the birthday of someone I knew back in school... T. Then, on the 7th it was P's... another P. PJ. Another old schoolmate. I think I was more attached to her mother, a gifted scientist and teacher, than to her! I wouldn't have remembered that one, but the last time I spoke to Fiesties, she told me she had unexpectedly gotten in touch with PJ. On the 8th it was Mrs.Plum's, I wished her, of course. On the 10th it was Mom's ...and my cousin, K's. On the 11th it was another cousin's... but I was too distraught to remember it at the time. On the 12th apparently, it is a nephew's birthday, but I didn't remember that then either. Then, for the last week, here goes... on the 14th it was N's, the math whiz back in school... probably the only one I knew then who could give me a run for the algebra race (I still retained my monopoly over geometry). On the 16th, it was U's. Today it is MAT's... almost a ghost from long ago, who once called me her "perfect friend". She's somewhere in the US now too, though I don't know where. On the 26th, it will be V's... once, and for many years, my best friend in school.

The last four people I have mentioned, I am no longer in touch with... along with T and P, who I have also let go, they form a part of my past who's only lovely memory is the old school building. For a long time that was my refuge. For a long time - and, I think, even now - each time I dreamt of any institution I attended academically, I would see my old school building instead of that institution. The only other links with that time are the teachers who taught me, many of whom I am in touch with even today. And the one family tie I discovered several years later, in the same school... an aunt... a real blood relative who had mysteriously vanished from the family tree for a while, and incidentally, who will be celebrating her birthday this weekend.

Nevertheless, this isn't just this year. Almost every October I feel like I'm missing birthdays. Almost every October, my old school days stand out vividly with the memories of schoolfriends long out of touch. I don't really mind that, I think people have to move on... and I myself broke many of these ties years ago. But, every October, I wish these old schoolmates in my head, hope for them happy successful lives, the way we dreamed it would be once, long ago.

Dealing with an Absolute

This post is to say I'm thinking a lot about three people right now, close, close family who are dealing with loss and grief... and of a fourth, who is no more. Even for someone like me who usually doesn't have trouble communicating, talking of this is difficult. There's so much to say but when it comes out, it feels seriously inadequate and out of place.

The one good thing is, now, over the last two days, when I've seen him in my mind's eye, I don't see him as he had become in the last few years, I see him as he used to be - all systems intact, raring to go; which is probably the way he wanted to be remembered in any case. I remember him as someone who quoted Russell and Emerson, loved mummy's dahi-bhat and rajma-chawal, and always wanted me to go into the Indian Administrative/Civil Service (to render it a little less Yes-Minister-ish and a lot more functional methinks). I remember little things, like the day he decided he wanted to teach us little cousins, Pink and me, to approximate distances and time. I found it difficult then, at the age of ten anything that looks like more than a handful is "thousands" and the theory of relativity renders anything you're waiting for to happen, to take "simply hours". Now I can do both these things fairly well, but sometimes, when I have estimated time to the minute, I have thought of that first difficult lesson, and of the tough but thorough instructor. I also remember him as probably the only one who could make my cousins stop calling each other "spotted pigs" and "red striped hyenas" (as a part of their daily fights ...I'm serious!) with a single look or word. And then, I remember how he thought I should learn to read, write and speak my mother's native language, and patiently started me off on the vowels one day, and told me he would continue the lesson the next time he met me. And then I remember that fateful "next time", looking on, scared, as he lay quietly on a hospital bed, not responding to anything.

It is difficult to see death, but it is equally difficult to know it has happened and not feel it. It develops in you a sort of numbness, an I-can-handle-it attitude that totally breaks down when you're confronted with the truth in the face. Last year, I went home and for the first time I walked into what was my grandparents' room - and saw my grandfather's empty spot and my grandmother, pale and wasted, bedridden. I had known to expect it all, but they only became 'real' when I was confronted with them. And the delayed response only rendered it all the more painful. Pig just said that what jarred on her yesterday was coming back to the house from the crematorium and seeing his empty bed, the TV switched off, silence. And realization.

For right now, though, I'm wishing for 'bread, butter and Jam' strength for acceptance. I love you and I'm thinking of you all.