Category Archives: Adoption

Who Are You

WHO ARE YOU TO ME why then do you not speak, what are these silences we do

so often, what are these streets, where have we arrived after all this time, why

am I so at home in a place I will leave,

who are you O God, to me, that You know

everything

about me, that I cannot yet, see

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‘Open the Eyes of my Heart’

Uploaded on Oct 20, 2011 

MUSIC STARTS AT 3’00..

10 YEAR OLD Christopher Duffley is an amazing kid with an AMAZING God! Born premature, blind, and autistic, Christopher was adopted by his parents before they realized God has gifted this young fellow with the gift of music!

This recording is from the 2011 “New Hampshire Night of Worship” celebration
Christopher’s website at:http://duffley.com/christopherduffley…

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Filed under Adoption, Artists, Blindness, Childhood, Disability, Dreams, Faith, Friends, Hope, Humanities, Inspirational, Joy, Love, music, People, Personal, Prayer, Real life

Why can’t I just mind my own business

Photo: Please:-) Visit, Like, Share and Tag! - ѕιиαLike this page for more►Super beautiful photos

Photo: Please:-) Visit, Like, Share and Tag! – ѕιиαLike this page for more►Super beautiful photos

Sometimes the Earth holds me too close, so close I cannot breathe

sharp-edged leaf and bark shimmering in the sun,

why can’t I just go about my business like everybody else,

why bother about eagles and sparrows making friends in the tree with the nest

– its branch flirting with electric wires, and the light

why should I care.

 

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Paulo CoelhoSometimes, we are so attached to our way of life that we turn down wonderful opportunities simply because we don’t know what to do with it. — Paulo Coelho

 

..

Photo: Lιкє тнιѕ ραgє •••► Night Walker ❤

 

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My ‘mud’ mother, he said..

…and the words hung like unwilling things in the little room above Jehan’s street, where this school stood.

Everything I could have said  to the child talking  to me  now, fell away, but he (young Thomas) leaned towards me, as if thinking there was some educated solution to his tangle.

“Mud” mother was the mother he had buried a few years ago. He himself was not more than 12 years old, but blind or not he remembered the bus route to the yard where she was.

The room fell silent : four other boys and three girls. “Personality development” sessions, but between you and me and this Page, I’ll tell you : nothing in the Universe can fully prepare one for the assault of the unusual lives we all live beneath our National flags and medals.

Nothing.

He loved his ‘mud’ like a child loves his parent : a blind pre-teen with no home of his own, except weekends when his father came for him on a two-wheeler with five other children from the other wife. Young Thomas embraced his sadness with a cherish I found very hard to look at. It was the only thing he seemed to understand. Alone – ness.

I asked him what his ‘mud’ made him feel.

Hug

Hug (Photo credit: Cliph)

Very sad.” He replied in a flat little voice.

“Tommy, what do you do when you feel sad ?”

He smiled at the name I used, and it warmed me to the moment ;  he showed me how he hugged himself when he felt sad.

” .. no one hugs me aunty Ray.”

You can know there was some hugging between us all, right there in that little room over the jasmine trees outside below. There was some rough and tumble, some ruffling of hair and a few things we said to say to our self when any of us felt alone: and that we were all there within shouting distance of each other, most of us.

And that the next time little Tommy went to his Ma’s yard, in his mind, in the classroom, he would perhaps remember that we were together this one moment here, together. Perhaps he would carry this moment, I know I will.

I came home feeling oh so hugged, and thinking : It’s okay to have a communal- pity-party sometimes, you know, (though the word ‘pity’ doesn’t quite sound right ) esp if it’s a child who can’t see a world full of people with education enough to just stop a moment and hug someone. I mean how expensive is that ?

English: A pre-teen Indian boy showing a baby ...

English: A pre-teen Indian boy showing a baby monkey in action inside a moving train to make his living.

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4 words that change my life..no, 5?

Forgiveness is a big deal…

Forgiveness is:

Releasing;

setting free

this Life:

Forgiveness: The Real F-Bomb

Forgiveness

re-newed

refreshed,

new new

feet, arms, legs, toes

eyes, ears, heart…

 

Your fragrance, permeating

interceding

re-creating

everything ; speechless

I turn, embrace

faces, even my own;

ah Lord God, You who made the heavens

nothing is impossible with

You

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There is so little we know about each other

English: Black Swan, Lake Monger, 2010.

Rare black swan : There is so little we know about each other

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…. .” Marianne Williamson, see belowSimulated gravitational lensing (black hole go...
Image via Wikipedia 

1.

 

 

It is okay,

to be afraid,

say I  am ready to Unlearn;

hey,

I never succeeded as another inter- Genre Experiment.

I am my own:

a bit of you,

My first Black Tulip

I am who I am ( Black Tulip: Power&Strength)

and  Him. And This.

It is okay,

to walk away from destruction : what is there that

we do not  know; even  Unborn Foetus- Bone-

and- Skin display Our Sin :

Who inherits these Crimes We Play,

Who Inhale what We Decay?

Our Babies wear this War

or Peace.

Uh- oh.

 

 

 

2.

 

Is it good  to not Up-date? ( Change , re-arrange ) ?

What is  ” Never Not Too Late,

What is, ” ..never not an option,

to  not search: Us, Him, We, Me..?”

Together We Feast, We die alone, this I know;

de-linked, Links:

We

are not just Culture- Cores,

we are Mixed Tribe – Manicure-ers of Feet

of Clay.

Blood – Ash Indifference.

……….

 

 

 

3.

Oh Lord,  today I saw It in the  Human face :

Excuses,Short cuts;

-Head-Bangers’ Camp-Relief- Art-lorn

Rights’ Commissions-ala – prettily dressed porn –

what goes around comes around – where

where

am I ?

I saw It Lord, took a while:

They said It had gone

with Education and Time,

e’en Soul-Soothe-Galleries and  Tangent- Rhyme;

but It is There, It is Here,

blunt  Black and White and no Debate :

the opposite of Love,

is a fallen Place;

3.

Seen  three Things today,

*  Of Lies & Gore, am blissed-unafraid :

*  That the opposite of Love is not Hate.

*  And how I saw Indifference, in my face.

In my Face.

…..

A Love Hate Masquerade

Image via Wikipedia The opposite of Love is not Hate : it is Indifference

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Each of us, everyone, has a Story to Tell, 

if you would share, say ; if you care,

read on

Thank youChweetzzz!

A 24 year old boy looking out from the train’s window shouted, “Dad, look the trees are going behind!”
Dad  ( an old man ) smiled and a young couple sitting nearby, looked at the 24 year old’s childish behavior with pity, suddenly he again exclaimed, “Dad, look the clouds are running with us!” .
The couple couldn’t resist and said to the old man, “Why don’t you take your son to a good doctor?”
The old man smiled and said, “I did and we are just coming from the hospital, my son was blind from birth, he just got his eyes today.”
Black Swan Lake

Black Swan Lake (Photo credit: epSos.de) Each of us 7 billion and some, has a story. Getting to understand each, might scare,encourage,delight,shock,bore, thrill us to pieces; the truth will surprise...

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The Tulip nebula and Cygnus X-1 black hole" What is Man that You are mindful of him ; or the son of man, that You have visited him ...?"

" What is Man that You are mindful of him ; or the son of man, that You have visited him ...?"

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Loneliness the world’s most lethal place ?


Birthing of a star

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

MY DAY WITH SUREKA  AGED 15 ? No records given to me to work with at that time, except this :

All Foster care had proved unsuccessful ;  she needed Medicare, but as concerned persons had asked for help, could I spend an hour with her/ an hour a day ? They were looking for any glimmer of Hope. The girl was intelligent, slightly abusive and please keep sharp objects or even a glass of water away from arms reach … ?

Hey I’d seen worse. Or so I thought.

” Sure, ” I replied, ” Just tell her I am someone’s mom here, waiting for the midday bell maybe..”

( Yeah tell her some of us have lived  thru’ the country’s worst riot, lived in some strange places, could walk bare feet almost  anywhere, have  breakable heart but …  love kids. Unconditionally, but ! That we are also a little ragged about the edges and in need of holiday; were shifting city and schools. With kids of our own at home each in varying shades and tones of Change and a pet cat that had gone missing and everyone was in official mourning, so could Ms Too- hot – to – handle, could you please spare me too many histrionics as I was getting unpredictable myself ?  )

Giraffe

One tall Giraffe grinned at me off the pillar to my left. Hmmmm those height giraffes. MArking off inches. Was I still 5'4" ? Johann was... ? 3 feet?Giraffe (Photo credit: gaco79) ..............................................

I was in the Library, (at school with my child of ”  Happy Feet and Fingers,”  as we called him at home ) ; had volunteered so now was working on their Editorial page and twenty odd photographs to collage into 70 + pages ;  dying for a cup of coffee. It was a hot summers’ day and so quiet you could hear the Comp !  Hoped Shashi would come by and show me some ropes with this : Computers were such bullies : they  ‘ lose’  pages you did not ” save” / commands you did not command! ………………………….god lives in yu - treo_062809_002_web

We love Friends!

contd.......................................................................I ( I hope you 're getting the lines that've somehow gotten in here. Didn't i warn you I was E_ Challenged ? Electronically challenged ? Yes you need Grace, strength, your own peace and wit, to cope with me...:)).............................................................................................................................. .Time goes I tell you. Goes goes goes.... By the time I stopped craving for that coffee, she walked in kohl smeared eyes, at least 7 hair clips and Angelina Jolie lips.

Three seconds later she was in the blue plastic chair across, giving me the twice over, half-smile and , ” So whats a softie like you, doing in a place like this, uh?”

Where’s the accent from, Sureka? ” I asked trying hard not to feel scared. The girl terrified me. I knew if I looked in her records there’d be history of violence. I was NOT in the mood for any of that.

Oh ? SO we haven’t met! I’m from the U. S. of A…  course my third foster home dumped me. Good riddance to bad rubbish you know,.. was tired of cleaning up all their dog poo.  Oh you don’t understand ? Dog  wee-wee  and  the likes ! Ha Ha !”

I carefully took out the two yellow covered drawing books Mm. Bhanu Jaya had sent over, in case I needed them. These were indispensable conversation fillers. No, they were conversation on their own. Unlimited places of discovery and tracing, re-tracing steps into yesterday, today… places we store within.

Babes you wanna  smile ? Don’t look so scared of me…”Where dear Lord had she learnt to speak that way ?

..Her eyes were oblong shimmering pieces of glass. The tears came an hour later, as the worst story I had heard up to that time spilled thru her long fingers systematically breaking up crayon, tearing pages, banging her head against the wall behind her, slamming the table into her ribs..Coffee time came and went. Mme Bhanu peeked in at the door and tiptoed away. By lunch hour there was that silence in the library with Giraffe grinning down at us :  the girl finally smiled thru her mascara streaked face.” Stop staring, willya ?”  ” You need all that make up ?”  ” Sure. U have a problem ?” Her tone was casual, as if she didn’t care.

I shrugged, Enough had been said. As we packed up to leave she said,  ” Know what Ms Ray ? U think they didn’t tell me nothn about you huh ? I do my homework darling…” She sounded like an older person, so much older than I was.She was warming up.

Hope

Hope (Photo credit: bitzcelt)

 “So, they tell me about you and your son and everything, and the reason why I shared some with you is that, see I need you to know this : I can help your son. Maybe just…talk you know. He don’t need Mama all  the time around him telling him to mind his manners see. Not that you mayn’t be a  grrrrreat Ma darlin. Wish I could come along to your place too see. And I mean like forevah. ..”

Did I imagine a catch in her throat. ” So. We help each other, k ? You teach me to paint. I teach your son to just walk without jumping.” It was business at its best. She was smiling at me like Kill. Then she leaned up real close and whispered, her voice was like razors rasping on stone.   Okay, don’t  freakn freak, k? Would you have a cig. Mom ? Shit no. Figured. Your face too virgin! U’ve been to nowhere the likes of me, Ray. Uhhh what I’d give for a smoke.”               

                                                                                    

She smiled gently and my heart broke.Angelina jolie

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

( Truth as it hit me square in the jaw  :  There are things we  do not know. Not if we are of the  same culture, family, or Time zone… Or not. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

THIS IS AN ENDLESS POST !  MAY WISH TO LOOK AT THIS AS PAGE 2

II.

We worked together for two months.

Sureka is currently with people better skilled than I am to care for her  ; there is more to recovery than sweet words can do.

A family was willing to take her home and they did come to me for a while. They loved her they said and I pray every one concerned does their best. Waits for each other. Gets Help. Breathes. Doesn’t overload others with their baggage, if possible. Allowing each to bruise themself now and then, pick up their own pieces when they can. erggghhhh and yet !

Has Hobbies. Holidays. Is not afraid to walk alone. Tries new friends. And some caring friends. Even unusual types.

Gets an education. Does NOT believe every statistic; every thing they say, write, feel. Not even our own feelings. From old people /  the very young/  the ill/ folks who’ve been there and back. Get out of that shut in room, into the sunshine. Where there are people just like us. Or someone hoping we will drop by.

Get a life. A new Life ! Dress up ( gosh try ) at least once a week.Talk to a neighbour. esp someone we dislike. Be a little silly if we can help it. Make memories. Doesn’t take money to do all that. Go back to childhood, the things that we needed to be fulfilled :

hey we haven’t changed all that much, except that we forgot what we used to want. We changed with the Times, and the Ads that came with the times. We changed when we saw other peoples’ green fields and maybe began t blame our donkey for eatn up all our reserves. Maybe the donkey is the best thing that happened to us.

I have a donkey story that brought Bethlehem home and shall post one day. Am I rambling ? Yes I am. A Ramble is a virtual carefree walk thru the valley of the shadow of dreams and maybe despair.Maybe.                                                                                                                                             But once am thru, am hoping this will be useful.

Editorial Girly Pop // Verao 2012 @ Sul Fashio...

credit: HiperFashion Estúdio Criativo) this so looks like Sureka,just think 14..15, and 5'2" or less... Angelina J. I hope you don't mind this

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PAGE 3

The Mind is a Scarily fantastic place; we scream to be understood. Not just ” Challenged ” people,  Sureka : abandoned as a baby, foster homes, rape ; her too tight t-shirt and jeans falling right off her hip bones… What I can never forget is how she was with my little son who still hadn’t figured how to walk straight.   A blind hyperactive child, needs help with learning how to walk like others he cannot see. Head-banging Sureka would walk him up and down the stairs, run across the field… tell him he was sweet, she even told him his mother was pretty.Hey whatever that sounds like, up to that point I’d never thought Johann might want to know that detail.

” So, they tell me about you and your son and everything, and the reason why I shared some with you is that, see I need you to know this : I can help your son. Maybe just…talk you know. He don’t need Mama all  the time around him telling him to mind his manners see. Not that you mayn’t be a  grrrrreat Ma darlin. Wish I could come along to your place too see. And I mean like forevah. ..”

Cover of "Happy Feet (Full Screen Edition...

Cover of Happy Feet (Full Screen Edition)

Walking into other people’s lives is tricky business.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Moment ( of Terrible-ness)  DON’T WANT TO CONFESS AM GOOFING THIS UP !!! 

Wish I  had some other kind of predictable existence. A 9-5 paid job, with annual holiday… anything but looking too deeply into anothers’ eyes. Uh. It’s a dangerous thing to dance with Stars. Ay can get hot. Is it ? Would I do this all over again ? No ?

Okay. Stay with Predictable ? The Safe and wise ? Not chase demons ? Where everything we learnt in college and backwards to kindergarten, Hymns/ Scripture/ Prayers/ Degree/ Work experience… ever acquired is put to test…?

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PAGE 4

Into the second month, one noon Sureka told me I was  ” %)(*&%^@”… and ” BJH*^&*%$ !!”.

Her   eyes were pools of pain, thru the medication and blue tinged marks in her skin. This was where angels would fear to tread. Could a prayer help? I came home and fell into my pillow.

JUST DO ONE THING AT  A TIME : DO WHAT YOU CAN DO.  The words grew louder and louder.They never left.They never will. Its a choice we make. To love, unconditionally.

Not just the officially  ” Challenged and handicapped ” of the Earth. But those that hurt children, or their parents. Those that would not stop to respect each others’ destiny. Those of us guilty of aborting each others’ missions. Guilty of Rage. It was seeping into me, from off her skin : after all I was doing for her, look at that face of ingratitude staring back at me,  Its Lips curled with a venom only known to the human race. So what if she had it bad ? I did too. Ah Rage, Pride, and the Outrage of not being said Thanks to ! A mega Burger dripping with the mayonnaise of Human Blindness.  I bite into it, relishing every bite.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later I would remember times when such rage from an older person, had shrivelled me up. Pathetic buds trapped in a winter that stole in too soon. Fields of rice crumpling up in thunder – happy monsoon. Christ must have shuddered. I’m not You, wish I could be, but am not. No patience of Job, no dare of Daniel, we just want normal existence and each of us have some happy moments to give back to the earth . Is that too much to ask… say ? He was not saying anything. It would come later. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After I ached to give it back to her ; the hateful words spat out at me : the yearning to give right up and tell her she was hopeless and a freak! That she deserved what she got, cuz hey I saw what she did yesterday. There was cunning behaviour ; lies, manipulation… yeah yeah Iknow, the girl needed help H E L P… came back home and one of my own did a mean turn. I saw Sureka all over their face. So ! It was the way of humanity uh ? I mean just everybody go to h ….!!! Is what I wanted to say. Wanted to walk.   ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 ” U dont have to LOVE just yet. Just work thru this, if thats what you’re here to do.”

The words formed a sort of life jacket and pulled me thru that.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

LIBERATES ! When am ready to quit. It’s okay to take a break. Change course if need be, but where is this going ? Do I  love this ?  Never mind. Is it getting results ? If you love yourself,  never give up. Your friend , whatever it is that motivates.

It pays off. Has. In my home, and so many lives around and people I’ve constantly learned from. Me, I am  learning  from my mistakes. The errors of hot-tempered pepper head !  How many years of learning ahead ? Gettn tired of too much learning here. Yeah I know. We all know. Reality does n’t just bite its got sting tail and sweet social poison. Go out with your challenged kid, or a bunch of them, go on. Last time I pretended to be blind on a train… there were four fabulous people, and one that looked at me with such repulsion. and I can just remember that one face.. where was I  ?

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Ah. Dont have to Love just yet just work thru.

IF THAT IS  WHAT YOU’RE HERE TO DO. IF THAT’S YOUR CHILD IF THAT’S YOU IF THAT’S SOMEONE YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE WITH IF YOU CAN WALK AWAY, PLEASE DO, THERE’S PROBABLY BETTER HELP FOR THAT CHALLENGED PERSON THAN US ; HEY THEY KNOW WHEN THEY ARE BEING DISLIKED (DONT WE ALL? I’m feeling better : ( sometimes this : ” love your neighbour” command can run riots in our live cuz we didn’t take that second half of sentence into count , ” Love your neighbour as  much as you love yourself..”) ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

PAGE 5

She made me look in the mirror at my ‘ … face ” as  she called it.  Was an eye opener ‘ cuz she implied she had been thru much more pain than I could guess at. Uh huh  I hadn’t been abused that way, or made to live like a maid ; I hadn’t been repeatedly abused by Medical staff supposedly helping her. I hadn’t turned into such an Exhibitionist as she was now, though heaven knew I could but for the grace of God ; I was not an illegitimate citizen, no surname ; the ones she had borrowed for a while in foster care, stood cancelled. She gave herself all kinds of names. She fantasized, had dreams like every girl. About being somebody. Esp a Star.

I carefully hugged her and said, ” Baby girl, why not, why ever not ? Forgive those people who hurt you. Let go of that and we can get on with … plans. Dreams… ”

” Yes Aunty Ray, ” she said like a demure Lil Indian girl would ; the next day I got a card, ” I WILL TRY.” ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

III Love is an expensive thing; it can tear you apart. ( Still if one is  investing in another’s’ life, asking for nothing in return. … ? If the investment were your return, and would reap you a Harvest the likes of which  no human eye had ever seen, or heart conceived, nor enter into the mind of man, would you, go there ?)  Scary,but…

TO BE CONTD.

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Last page here ?

curious giraffe is searching

curious giraffe is searching (Photo credit: harold.lloyd)Oh what a happy soul I am, Although I cannot see; I am resolved that in this world Contented I will be. How many blessings I enjoy, That other people don’t; To weep and sigh because I’m blind, I cannot, and I won’t.” Fanny Crosby blind songwriter, over 8000 songs.

Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee :

Beethoven’s great Ninth Symphony, “The Choral” 6 years to compose, totally deaf.  At the premier in 1824 the soloist had to turn the great man around to acknowledge the thunderous standing ovation, which he could not hear.

yeah tho’ I walk thru this duh ! valley of jumpetty shadows,I know there is so little I know /  so much more to understand ; that for every curse there is a blessing, and for every blessing, a rascal  telling  you you ‘re a curse to mankind  : ah  today, in the arms of the Unknown I have learnt a new song : a New Line, there is this  Letting go. Letting Life surprise us,  Lead us. To our Purpose in this World. There is not ONE SINGLE ONE OF US,  born without purpose.

If we think so, that is our loss. Our personal Tragedy. 

  • If you managed to read thru this entire Post and survived, am thrilled. I  thank you. ( Sorry again Edits still go haywire when ‘ published’, must get help. But thank you for putting up. Let me know if the black back ground makes for tough reads. Should I change Theme ? Say ? Have a great day..:)
  • Innerdialect.

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Filed under Abuse, Adoption, Beethoven, Biography, Blindness, Blog, Challenges, Culture, Disability, Discouraged, Divorce, Dreams, Faith, Fanny Crosby, Fear, Forgive, Friends, Habits, Healing, Homes, Hope, Humanities, Humor, India, Inspirational, Journals, Joy, LIFE, Lifestyle, literary, Literature, Lonely, Losing a dear one, Love, Lyrics, Magazine, Miracles, Pastel art, People, Personal Reflections, Personality, Philosophy, Places, Poetry, Prayer, Press This, Prisons, Psalms, Quotes, Readers Digest, Real life, Songs, Suicide, Sun, Times, Words Of Art, Writers

What did you think you were

Sooraj B

here there is need,

pain

hope

love

rejection

aspiration

cruelty

inner monsters

brilliant chaos

My sister Susie

joy

courage against all odd

peace in a storm

more storm

unjustified wrong

days of ” NEVER MIND”

silence

colours

Innersong.com Scott my awesome friend

success

hope

prayers

breaking faith

unbroken

Derk G. Wish I coul talk to you every dayyy

Fingers of God

friends

quietnesses

peace

rest

labour

Supriya what a beautiful girl you are !

beauty

respect

open doors

windows

skies

sunshine

starlight

dawn dusk

an appreciation of  Life.

… even self.

Gratitude

Esp Gratitude

for the Gift of Expression…

Dearest : everyone is an artist,

Abhrodeep M

what did you think you were..

a Stream in this desert,

of the River of Life..

That’s who you are,

 isn’t that nice ?

(if I’ve missed out on someone here, just say ; u’re there in my life, but say)

Vihann Noel Pictojournal 2012

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Fire can make Jewels..?

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=244963188914622&set=pu.159928490751426&type=1&theater

Loved these pics., thought to share :

so much left to visit, meet understand : and am thinking, there are places we will never see in this life, even each other;

so much I will never understand : why my dear friend’s husband had to go so early, why Mona has this wheelchair, when do tears stop, how do some of us heal so quick? And some cannot?

How come Timmy  smiles through the steel in his hip bones? Where does Clara J. get her funny stories in cancer ward? What on earth is going on with that family other side of our street and the wife never-never stops smiling, though I know she’s beat up every time he gets home drunk?

How does a Tiger feed piglets? ( check this link above), and humans will tear each others’ scalps if asked to share space?

When will Kamal stop grieving ? What do I say ? Isn’t it  healthy to give him space  ? Can we all go out for a movie ? Is laughter illegitimate? Should we heal that fast ? Can we reach out and dare try re-capture traces of what we used to be, before the Tsunami stole our License to live?

Am I defined by my Nation?  My culture? My husband and children ? My roots? My grandparents maternal and paternal, and their associated roots, intra-personal differences and spatial decrees?

Should I stay in my ancestral banyan Tree, should I root another? What if there are no more trees, and I had to rent a chair, a mat, a pair of Hawaii chappals, would that be me ?

Can I live and laugh again, after all our assassinations and killer-tides?

So today I planted a little Lime tree in my kitchen balcony. That is not me, and yet, she is. New. Different.

A seedling, shed of yesterday’s branch and address.

Piece of a Past, enriched.

Renewed, strengthened, to stand alone. Stand Tall. Leaning on sap that routes back to Heritage, and yet, here, tender once more,  branching out again.

Same green, but new leaf and unfurl.

Free to be.

Renewed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fire can make Jewels. Okay, that’s not a new thought, but it just hit me like a flash of Lightning and thunder.

(Some of us need it I guess 🙂 Have a nice day. And may you find your Treasure, in the sands struck with lightning…

 

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Tears of Laughter bless bad chemicals ?

I was Story Teller/drawing/ drama Teacher,  Asst. Hair comber , Games-chief & Fashion consultant to wide-eyed wanna-be film stars  in those 30x 20 classrooms, and oh these kids knew about dances. Best job I have ever had ; the most exacting. Humbling. To mingle that close with an existence a few kilometers off your front door,  and  such a world apart.  You  never could tell how the day would end at the Street School …

Closer home,Mrs R.  my neighbour from B16  ( Ah that is another post 🙂 !)  sat there saying the worst things I’d ever heard said about me, but the laughter began to happen without warning. That was easily the time I got to see first hand Joy  killing  some bad chemicals running around inside.  Was also when  this Painting above ( Gossips )  happened, so am officially thanking Mrs R, with significant noble thoughts here, and why ( maybe)  some of  Life’s messier moments are vital for people like me to smell the coffee, the turpentine& paint, roses, guns :  all good reasons why we are  hit  in the  umm.. Sensitivities…

also makes it easier to forgive ? Am asking ; knowing there are some issues here am about to mention that all the forgiving in the world might not untangle, not just yet…

Perhaps not that cute to go glib over life’s more sensitive issues. Laughter ? What am I saying. Funny though, that the best examples of a positive outlook, were/ are in the places I for one , would not have  looked!

At the  little school /  chawls ( Borivali Mumbai ) after the ’90 Mumbai riots, days when  we were staring wide-eyed at a thing or two about Reality, I met Pinky ( there is a story here about her ) – the child with amputated leg and a smile that could embarrass the stars.

Gorai Kahdi, Gorai, Borivali, Mumbai

Image by ganuullu via Flickr

Pinky was the daughter of construction site workers, her grandmother sold vegetables from Dadar; was also one of the most sour human this side of hell. And with reason.

A chawl is a name for a type of building found...

Image via Wikipedia

Gorai Kahdi, Gorai, Borivali, Mumbai

Image by ganuullu via Flickr

There was also Raju* ; another child who showed us  courage . ( Raju  had a wild story going on 24×7, so incredible,  I hesitate to say here. Back then I thought it was regular in a big city. Error. Few months ago,  I ran into a street girl, eyes thick with mascara, a red satin skirt and shirt. It was that blurred moment at the pedestrian crossing, but she alarmed me in a way that freezes that noon, and I never forgot her  eyes asking, saying things that would not have shocked me anymore. That  was the day I really ached for a Camera that could  zoom in on some of our invisible lives,in cities going too fast someplace ; who  really know where ?)

A flower seller at Dadar Station Phul Galli. N...

Image via Wikipedia

*yes I keep returning to that Little Street School. Children that were no longer little kids. Their faces lined with soot and some other things we might never understand . Kids  that  would not stop and pick a fight. Were they  just plain scared to object/ stand for their rights ? Or  did not even know they had rights, or did not care ?

Their every day meal depended  on what  they brought back home. Rs 300/- a day? Often much more. They got pittance or nothing in return, maybe a little red tea in a tin cup as an extra, going by the  little we actually got to see. NO education, or play time. None that we saw.

The Street School, started  by a couple of friends  we got to know : lasted two years before it was abruptly shut down. My family and I moved away from Borivali, and later shifted cities. Hey you can change around careers and lifestyle, but you never leave the spaces that turn your life around.

I was drawing/ story/drama teacher, hair comber and games-chief. Fashion consultant to wide-eyed wanna be film stars right there in those 30x 20 classrooms, and these kids knew about dances. Best job I’d ever had ; easily the most exacting. Humbling. To see an existence so close to your front door,  but such a world apart. And then you never could tell how the day would end. These tiny winding gullies    invisibly monitored by a form of  street govt. that had its  own rules and regulations. We were ‘friends’ as long as we did not stop the kids from ‘ helping out’ with their parents chores. There was the Social Worker that visited, the Health Worker, and a few others belonging to nameless Associations : curious wanna-be Social_ Helps, too scared to brave a School Schedule like this, 9 – 5, 5 days a week  : visit the children’s’ houses and families, brush their teeth, comb hair, politely talk about the Blessing of being able to read their own language, write, even sign in their names. The ” school ” did not last long ; it hurt to leave, but images never do. They arrived  for a reason ;  our home has been richly blessed by children of this soil that remind us of who we are  ; Roots, Branches, sparrow droppings, all …

Outside Borivali station, Mumbai, India

Image via Wikipedia

One day , a little girl’s (Laxmi, with the long plaits) birthday ; after  lime juice and samosas, there was much hooting with laughter at the oversized dress her mother had got Laxmi. Well, after a very awkward silence Laxmi lifted her tiny chin and replied, “ But I will grow. ”  There was that twinkle in her eyes filling with tears. Dear sweet little girl, I bet you did.

Yeah, tears and a chinny up twinkle that probably can defy anything.

Anything. Knowing her, I am sure of that !

…………………………………………………………..

Laughter

Image via Wikipedia

Laughter...

Image by leodelrosa... via Flickr

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