Another Baisakhi & Easter have zoomed past but the "why me?" syndrome continues to pester and gnaw. They say every saint has a past & every sinner, a future. I am not sure which end of the spectrum they've slotted me in or if i ever had a choice. One problem is that life moves on for others even if time has frozen for you. As you cling on to the past and contemplate the future, the present (a gift) is not lived to its fullest. This brings with it a web of problems, because while you are fixated in a situation-specific time zone, there are birthdays and weddings, debts and bills, greetings and wishes, deaths and favors - all crying out loud for redemption, reciprocation and attention. You are expected to reciprocate to social norms because not everyone shares the passion for your battle -- and rightly so, why should they ? Red-faced & disillusioned, the natural reaction is to became a social hermit, but the thought of throwing in the towel was never an option.     

I try to be both poetic & cryptic, but failed miserably on both fronts. I complained to the universe that creativity has always eluded me. As a child, i remember the day i drew a camel and an elephant, and how happy that made me feel. But that was many moons ago. The brazen desire to add to creativity at the civilisational level, in some shape or form, has always existed. Optimistic exuberance galore !  The desire to break away from a moribund 9 - 5 routine, from hedonism, self-pity, from animalistic existence and the usual rot that ordinary mortals grapple with. Now, with years of ennui & nothingness piling up, the best i can perhaps hope for, is not to be the last among mortals. True, that suffering may bring creative energies to the fore. And if we reverse engineer tangible manifestations of creativity, we would see sadness in all its hues. It seems that happiness & sadness have the strange quantum property of annihilating each other in creative voids, of being there and not there at the same time and being everywhere always.

It wouldn't be right to keep playing the violin because yours truly hasn't been devoid of wonderful experiences, especially when the worst was expected. Amazing, hilarious experiences at critical times, through which shone God's grace. When you expect to be condemned to oblivion, to be humiliated, ostracized and spat-on, suddenly there is victory, social acceptance, forgiveness and divinity. The contrast between anticipatory anxiety & desirable outcome couldn't have been starker. I am not exaggerating when i say that for a few tense moments, i could literally feel my heart thumping. Pragmatism & kindness prevailed over bureaucratic buffoonery & institutional idiosyncrasy. The sights, smells and sounds of the day will live on in happy memory. And then there is the experience of interacting with that someone special, people call the "better half" (aka: "bitter half"?!). Reflecting on how the events unfolded,  the coincidence-ness of it all, its not difficult to relate to a divine ordination detailed to the last comma & full-stop. We met in Amristsar (after a 4-hour flight delay) and visited the Jallian Wala bagh and the golden temple and had the famous sarson ka saag and makke di roti. But what happened inside the sanctum sanctorum is beyond description - not even she knows it - to word it would be to belittle it. It was as if God read my mind and pat came the answer! The experience not only left me dazed & bewildered but also shaped the events of my remaining visit to India.  Beyond that, Rokka brings with it the usual: colorful, lively rituals, the bonhomie, the exchange of (positive) energies, intertwined fates & subsequent conjugal bliss: One way ticket to a fundamentally life altering event ;-)