The Clutter and the Order...

Three decades of living in the same neighbourhood can have serious effects on you unless you are like me. Acts newbie to the area and doesnt step out on foot. Until it is an emergency. So, my two new chudhidars, sewed and done, await me at the stitching centre just three buildings away. My plans to resume `veena’ classes has been put on a pause mode because I have to walk yet another two blocks to the teacher’s house. And am still making up my mind whether to join the fitness centre right at the top floor of the next building or give it a cold shrug and leave it for housewives who have nothing better to do. Phew! Not me.

I have realised long back that I dont do anything until that urgency becloud me, spreads its cover and lugs me in. So, my itching to make a pencil drawing of the loveliest orchids I have set my eyes upon ever, has to wait because my drawing book is inside my son’s wardrobe. And the muffins recipe that my friend sent me is still saved in my phone’s gallery. The oven needs a rest too, afterall. And a visit to my cousin recuperating after a deadly flu is down there in the list. And updating my blog can be done anytime. Never mind, its been a year that I wrote something in it.

Everything can wait, till my mind is made...

Since my tryst with Isha Yoga in August last, life has taken a u-turn. A new turn, actually.  I have an ear to my body’s needs and health now. And an eye to all of life’s blessings around me. My day starts with a new energy and ends with fresh hopes. And lots of plans (old habits do not die young) in between.

Like my childhood days, I can talk to flowers now, I can smile at the butterfly, watch the rain clouds recede gloomily into the night sky, wonder why the dhruv tara (pole star) is so lonely out there when all the others are twinkling on the other side. And be conscious of the Earth below my feet when I walk. The simplest of life’s joys that always were and somehow had to be reminded by a bearded man in a flowing demeanor after many years.

But the love for disorder and unrest has not left me. It possesses me hard sometimes. Why is it that I cannot stick to a routine and has to constantly be on the run from falling into a methodical breath?  I have to be on a slow mode once in a while so that my lungs are filled again. I have to cry so that my smile is brighter. I have to remain in a fog of confusion so that my thoughts and emotions get clear. I have to create a clutter so that an order finally dawns. Falling into an easeful rhythm is so scary. Afterall, not being prim is not a sin. 

So, the past three weeks, since the crack of New Year, have been shrouded in this disarray and chaos. I stopped baking. I read five books at a stretch in Kindle. I let my boy miss his study hours for a week. I basked in the guilt of not making a move to reply to the many whatsapp messages in my phone.  I took a leave from every simple task I had bestowed upon myself. I let myself believe that being joyful was important than being in order and pattern.

At the end of it all, today evening, I had this sudden urge to get hold of my days. To welcome a certain order. And my bestie, who would not sleep without sending a goodnight message my way every night, was available for chat. I asked for help and she said. Ok, what is the first thing in your mind that you want to start with? Dance, draw, write, bake??

And I suddenly knew. My mind was made. And the page was not empty anymore.

ends...