Of joys & wonderful pleasures

Is there anything more beautiful than home. The serene sense of calmness in chaos.

The realization that you can create home where and when you want. The blessing that you can choose to feel home. The joy that you can experience happy moments and satisfaction where you like.

When you wakeup to intensely craving Indian style Rajma chawal that your friend had once treated you to. The fact that you have the ability to message, surrounded with the hearts that respond to your request without whining and ranting (or completely ignoring you) about how you had been out of touch.

Sitting after enjoying the delightful pleasures of a plate full of Rajma Chawal, you cannot but thank God for such an amazing life.

Life where He has blessed you with the ability to create circumstances you envision, blessed you with the ability to freely will. To do. To ĺmake it happen. Blessed with the ability to choose comfort, peace, Love and Serenity. It doesn't then not matter whether there is chaos of any sort outside.

What matters is realizing the Power. Power of the Heart and the Mind to feel and think what you choose to. Power of the will to create from within. A home. Of joys and wonderful pleasures. Of saying a little prayer, of extending gratitude to all those amazing souls surrounding you, of gratitude to Him, to His ways of making you feel thankful.

Wishing and praying sincerely for every single soul on this planet to feel the Magic of creating the Home within. To feel the Serenity of living joys and pleasures of expected and unexpected. To feel Malang and radiate the dance of Joy to the world. No.matter.what.

From there. From here.

For the sound of bird outside my room window. Too sunny and just plain walls of the other building hence no view in particular. But the sunshine falling in between the two compound spaces. And the bird sitting on my window sill. The way zainab wakes up often to the maina's loud sound at the window.

It is every day little things. Routine. Life. Activity. That keeps us going. That should keep us going against the heaviness of impending pull of strong gravity. It doesn't stop. But so does the bird at the window. She doesn't stop either. Zainab wakes up every day. The sun dawns every day.

No matter what. Life keeps giving a choice each second. To choose. To listen. To move that blanket and brush your teeth. To live. To laugh. To smile. To cherish. To find like a shelter for your empty brain before the neurons lose connection. Before you stare at dendrites and wonder if it was or is even a word.

To write. To scribble. The sound of pencil on paper.

It isn't bad. Lows are not bad. Lows don't exist. Until we make them so. Lows don't exist until we see them so. Get up. Let yourself lose. Catch yourself off guard smiling at the bird sitting at your window. And take yourself from there. From there. From here.

Back.

What happened she asked.
I've lost my way I answered.

What way she asked.
You see the people praying so eagerly? That way. I responded. That. I envy those. I've lost my eagerness. My passion.

Your words fail you? She asked.
Words? There were feelings that would flow into words each time. Today I stand at nothing. Utter and shere unexplainable loneliness. No feelings. No words.

Each answer and justification to the world of where I belonged in my Heart bit by bit made me lose my way.

With each question of rationality, I timidly stepped back from Connection.

Each moment of worldly opinion held my feet and dragged me away. Slowly and gradually. Away from the Heart.

Till the conversations got louder. Till the words took over the serenity of silence. Till I entered autumn and the breaking of leaves hurt my soul as I stepped further back.

Till the connection blurred.

So, there you are. She said. Shaking me back to Life.

I looked around. I was back.

She had held my hand and had taken me back.

It was that simple? I wondered. It was awkward at first. It was silent and peaceful. No deeper meanings. No intense feelings. Just us for a while. Me within my heart. She held my heart and took me back to my heart where I belonged. To the feeling. To Him. To conversations with Him.

Back to Serendipity. .

Connection exists. Within each of us. We get up and step back from it when we fall prey to justifying the Grandeur.

In my timidy to justify. I had forgotten there are as many paths to God as there are humans. I had lost my way to my own heart. I had lost my way to.my God.

Dark.

Today. They snatched away another human being.

One by one I am helplessly witnessing as they come, shoot and ride away.

One by one I am losing good humans. I am losing them all. One by one.

I scream inside. My screams fade in the evil sounds of vultures screaming infidels, I clench and hide my little one in my arms as they make their way towards us.

I am dying. One by one. Helplessly I witness.

Rest in Peace Amjad Sabri.
Rest in Peace Pakistan. No wait. Hope you never rest in peace. Hope we wakeup.

I look around with fearful eyes. As everyone smiles back, they all seem to have loved my uncle. They all seem to have even loved Amjad Sabri too. Who could then possibly kill them?

I look around hopelessly. I look around helplessly. I look around as I feel strangulated with the rising voices, rising screams of delusional peace.

I look around as I am hoping they won't come for me.

I look around as I am hoping somebody will fight back and remind them of True God.

I look up and ask God where humans are.

I look into my arms and whisper hope to my little one.

I clench my hands and squeeze my eyes to pray.

I hold a hand of a passerby asking if he knows about God and Humans and mercy.

He looks blankly, narrows his sight and asks if I am an infidel. The one they are destined to kill.

No more mourning. I don't have energy to mourn more.

Enough is what I want to scream.

I scream one last. Come, get up as my scream fades again.

Of disciplining.

There are two ways to handle a baby.
Either you do as they say or you tame them according to your own comfort.

Either you tame them to sleep and be fed when you want. Perfect disciplined mommy. Or you give in and be there for them as and when they need you.

Parenting articles and experts tell me that I can tame Zainab to suit my comfort now. I can tame her to sleep late so that I can attend social gatherings in a human costume. I can even alter her feeding times to suit my ease.

Or. I can choose to follow her natural course or needs.

Research generally favors the second. Much natural and a rather sane humanistic way. If an infant is howling and is sleepy, you put the infant to sleep. It generally leads to better attachment, creating comfort of trust. Of stronger bonding. Of love. Of security. 

Of relationship.

Perhaps it is the same with God. I tamed my understanding of Him, altered and crafted His definition to suit my comfort. I schedule His needs of me to suit my ease. More often I do what He recommends first and then maybe someday somewhere I pause to do what He obligates. Putting Him secondary and tailoring to suit my ease does not importantly bring any harm. But yes, I suppose I could have better attachment and undetstanding of Him if I liberate Him from my limiting comforting definitions that I create to hush my guilt of taming Him. I forget. I am not bargaining with Him. I cant. I am merely taming my understanding of Him. With Him, nothing to lose. With me, probably everything to.

Heaven.

To You.

Sitting in the bathroom, hiding away from my sleeping daughter, I quickly scribble my thoughts before Zainab wakes up. Something you would totally scold me for doing.

Ambitiously changing the world by working on grassroot projects or working 9-5 to contribute to the social evolution of this world is one thing but being suddenly given a blessing to takecare of is another. It is like, here, a piece of you and your partner. Now go raise this little thing for future.

I wonder. How did you do it?

To your early mornings and wisdom.
To your four slices of bread and jam.
To listening eagerly to my stories after school.
To the dinner talks after work.
To the times when you preferred me studying than cooking.
To the times when you said, you can learn to cook anytime like anyother girl or boy, focus now on what you are passionate about.
To making me fall in love with my Present. Each time.
To making me believe in Present.

To the mom that never conservatively reduced me to domestic chores to the daughter sitting and lovingly baking cookies today.

To the times where I loved studies and job.
To the times where alongwith, I am now loving my daughter.

To the times where I hated cooking.
To the time where I am googling and experimenting tastes.

To the tough moments. To the rough ones.
To each when you taught me not to go bitter with life.

They say the heaven lies beneath your feet. I say you weaved the heaven and continue teaching me to weave the heaven out of Life.

We all get sufferings. You, my human, taught me not to go bitter with sufferings.

I am yet to meet a human with such profound, peaceful and positive view on life as you.

What more. You even taught me to find and cherish humans like you.

You gave me the believe, the hope that what you are to me is not just because you are my mom. You gave me the hope to find more who weave heavens around.

If anything, I am addicted to your positivity.

But the issue is you are my mom and I am scribbling this out on a day made to honor people like you.

I have a deeper believe, a firm faith, that those who do not have a mom, have somebody like mom, if not so, bear witness, they have God directly themselves.

I wish, pray, hope and perhaps somewhere try to weave a heaven of Present. It is workable. For you did it. For you told me and showed me how God does give you heaven if you thank Him enough. For a Heaven in now is the most beautiful gift. For I want Zainab to at least be half as lucky as me if not absolutely. And for that, I need to try and weave a Heaven like you. A heaven of love, warmth, possibilities and positivity.

Selfish

Infants, I suppose the most selfish of all beings. They don't care whether you're sitting in a wedding or starting to sip your 5th time microwaved coffee. If they need a diaper change. They do. Right at that moment. If they need your feed. They do. Be it 3am in the morning or in the middle of an airplane packed with gazillion men. If they need their mom. They need her. No matter where she is and what she is doing. A million dollar toy to babyshop toy. Nothing will soothe a baby who needs her mommy. Except well the mommy.

Zainab made me realize so. She is so beautifully selfish. So careless and selfish in what she needs of me.

I wish that was just the way I could hold onto God. Careless about how far I have walked from Him and how empty I feel of Him. Selfish about just needing Him back.

And that is one thing that Zainab has made me think about again and again and again.

To be absolutely selfish in my need of Him. To squeeze my eyes and cry out loud shattering all illusions of emptiness within. To clench unto His presence even if the mere 'I' in me is struggling to find. To nod my head and cry further in my need of Him when comforting illusions and distractions hit me. I never thought there could be something beautifully selfish. As beautifully selfish as Zainab calling for me, as beautifully selfish as clenching unto the God I miss.