I open my eyes and stare at the question paper one more time. The subject title says “Physics”, as I look around in a daze, only to realize, that I had gone to sleep while answering an exam paper. I peek into my neighbor, Sakira’s paper and she is circling question no. 40, here I haven’t even read the first question. I read question no. 40 and realize it is futile to even attempt answering it. I read the next one, and it seems more like a History exam as the question goes, ” Which kingdom was attacked by the aliens in 1882?”
Me and a mile run… never! It is too boring and too exhausting… I haven’t done it in ages, but I was convinced I could do it the other day, after all I was in a fitness boot camp. My trainer jogged slowly with me every step of the way, quietly instructing me to keep an even pace, even stride and a rhythm. He had a backpack on him filled with bananas and water, just in case I need energy. I took a short water break or two, but surprised myself by finishing the mile run in 12 minutes 0r was it 13.
“I don’t watch news on TV”, I say proudly. Then, internet is never faraway, even if you are not surfing the internet, just being logged into Facebook is enough to be aware of what is going on around us. It saddens me to see a lot of hate. I just a read a piece by a woman of mixed heritage being asked to leave the bus, the country because she is somehow responsible for the crimes and the shootings. There is was another story of a Sikh gentleman – Darsh Singh, mistaken for muslim and being ridiculed for playing basketball with his turban on. Yet another story of one being stabbed, another being beaten and yet another being mocked.
Just barely read a long spiel on kindergarteners and first graders coming back home from school utterly exhausted. The class size is a problem, the bus journey is a problem, the emphasis on test scores is a problem and the list goes on. As somebody comments, “The class size needs to be capped at 12.” “There isn’t enough help for the teachers with 30+ kids in the classroom” says another. Again, there is a flurry of similar comments. Of Course it is easy for you and me to simply talk or type away on a funky laptop.
Ah! Brazil…So many beautiful people! So many beautiful memories! Where do I begin??? And where do I end??? If futball can bring the world together in a utopia like atmosphere where everyone is in love with the game, where words are not important, where communication with intentions and body language and miming take over it is simply a perfectly fine world.
I have been thinking about loss, ever since I read the prompt – ” Write about a loss”. Many memories came to life of people, places, relationships and farewells. Somehow farewell stuck with me, last day of school, last day of class with Miss Paul had felt like an ultimatum that had invariably brought a huge lump in my throat. It still does! Last day of my son’s soccer tournament, baseball or Robotics still makes me feel – sentimental, along with a sense of loss. What more? It simply happens there are no trumpets, drumrolls or people singing a farewell song.
Serially lost and Serially found are two sides of the same coin in one’s life. You can lose something! then you can find something and life goes. Somedays you feel like you have everything and you are on top of the world and other days you feel just the opposite. My father always likes to say, ” The sum total of gains and losses in one’s life, balances out eventually.” You come with nothing and you leave with nothing.
“Nothing Lost Nothing gained.” When we are little, we are happy to play Hide and Seek – the game of lost and found, when we grow up we continue to play the game, although with an added flavor of “awareness” that shows up once in a while. Farewells feel like losses, new friendships feel like gains and life goes on between the game of Hide and Seek or Lost and Found.
Pooranmashi ( full moon) after Diwali ( festival of lights), is that magical time of the year, that has always been special for me. The moon always has a special aura around it, after all it is the Gurpurab, the special day when Guru Nanak was born in Talwandi in Punjab, India, (now in Pakistan) 500+ years ago. It is that day, when I did not go to school in Bangalore, but went to the Gurudwara (place of worship) instead.
Here is my son with his roommates in the dorm, a picture of happiness! It was such a joy to see them the other day. It seems like he has found his niche and is comfortable. He went to college not knowing anybody and now it is obvious he feels at home. Watching him and his team on the soccer field was a treat too. No he did not make any of his signature spectacular saves, nor did his team win the not-so-important intramural soccer game, but I was impressed by how dignified and poised they looked, despite the loss. Continue reading