Your Compass

Dear Self

Life's secrets

The Story Of Badhiya

There is a story about a cousin of the Buddha whose name was Badhiya. He was governor of a province in the kingdom of Shakya, in present-day India. One day a number of his friends who were monks and students of the Buddha came to him and invited him to join their community. He hesitated. As a governor, he had at his command many soldiers, a lot of money, and a very powerful position. But finally his friends persuaded him. He left it all behind and came empty-handed into the forest, where he was ordained by the Buddha as a monk. He didn't have a fancy house to live in anymore. He only had three robes, one bowl, and a sitting mat.

One night Badhiya was meditating at the foot of a tree. Suddenly, he uttered the words, 'Oh my happiness, oh my happiness. It happened that another monk was sitting nearby. The other monk thought that Badhiya regretted having abandoned his position as governor. So in the early morning l that monk went to the Buddha and reported to him. 'Dear teacher, late last night I was sitting in meditation. Suddenly I heard the monk Badhiya exclaiming, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness." I think he has some problem.'

The Buddha sent his attendant to invite Badhiya to come. In front of a group of monks the Buddha said, 'Badhiya, is it true that last night during sitting meditation you pronounced two times the sentence, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness"?" Badhiya said, 'Yes, noble teacher, I did pronounce that sentence twice.

'Could you explain to us why you have pronounced these three words during the night?' the Buddha asked.

Badhiya said, 'Dear teacher, when I was a governor my palace was guarded by hundreds of soldiers. But I was still very afraid. I was afraid robbers would come and kill me or at least take away all my valuables. So day and night I lived in fear. But last night I realized that now I have nothing to lose. I was sitting out in the forest at the foot of a tree, and never in my life have I felt so safe. Nobody wants to kill me anymore because I have no power, no wealth, and no jewels for anyone to take. I have nothing. Yet I finally have everything. I am touching such a great happiness and freedom. That is why I have pronounced the words, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness." If I have disturbed someone, I am sorry. 

From Thich Nhat Hanh's No Mud, No Lotus

Self-care

dreams

self worth

Reaching out

Diary of a Female quixote

1 January 2025

The New Year began quietly at 0001 while I was busy writing in my journal. This has been my habit for the last many years when I have found happiness in journaling about the passing year and the coming one. Unlike childhood, when the New Year began with prayers in the church with the Midnight Mass, the years since my marriage in 2008 have been blessed with midnight musings and nothing else. I have jumped like the proverbial monkey from faith to spirituality to religion to nonbelieving all the time and its hardly news that I don't go to church any longer though I am spiritual and read religious books of all kinds. There are sounds of firecrackers coming from the neighbourhood and every year, it has been a special New Year with the people singing Te Deum at the midnight mass. 

The Happy Ending

2026: The Year of the Fire Horse

According to Chinese astrology, 2025 was the Year of the Green Wood Snake. Next year, 2026 is going to be an Year of the Fire Horse. The year is predicted to be a year of courage, transformation and powerful movement. The last Fire of the Horse year was 1966 and the Fire energy returns to awaken passion and purpose. 

10 January

What you require is a realignment in your thinking as the self-help books go. Sometimes, you need to find stories of survival that are quite different from what you have known and it requires a good deal of strength to come unscathed out of a crumbled world. But you need words, stories, narratives and strategies that helped you survive. These words become reminders that you have survived and that you have learnt how to create new worlds out the remnants. What I say is that you need to realign your world from whatever pieces are left of you and build a new perspective that will help you in being happy. 

9 January

There are times when you want a happy ending in life either with the one you had married or with the one you love but when these thoughts strike you already make into some form of a fiction and you are already under the impression that happy endings are part of fiction and not life. You need memories of the past to make you understand that most of life are repeated experiences as Coelho says teaching things that one is not ready to learn. When I was younger, I was much fascinated by the connections between fiction and real life. There are times when you feel that your life resembles fiction and sometimes fiction is so life-like. 

8 January

This year I have observed the rituals of moving on to the new year and done some introspection at the end of it. In some places, they call it a year ending ritual of moving inward and thinking about what all plans you might have for your next year. These plans could deal with materialistic aims or spiritual goals. For me, I have always wanted to write a book and what I scribble down I want to edit and create a book that can be read by a general reader with curiosity.

I haven't written like this in a long time with only a few lines a day. This year, I got myself a diary with a green cover that says Save Our Trees, Save Our Earth. I am thinking of switching to the virtual format though as this business of writing down thoughts has become too tedious.

As I told you, this last year has been one of good fortune for various reasons. One doubts every year whether one has learnt enough. This life has been full of ups and downs, at times with nothing to bring in happiness. Despite troubles, one has survived though not overcome the obstacles that life threw in its paths. And regarding the blank pages, they can inspire a dull spirit by bringing back life. I felt something come alive within me as I stared at the fresh-scented blank pages and the urge to fill them took over every other feeling that I was having and I took my pen and started writing.

7 January

When I was much younger, I wanted to become a writer and I filled in all the blank pages that I saw. I learnt new words and ways of writing but never thought of putting my mind to writing a journal down. What I feel is that may be, I lacked the determination that was needed to publish a book or create one. But every day was filled with reading books that was of interest to the self with plenty of pages that contained my thoughts.

Now, I still have words with me and the urge to fill blank pages with them. I wonder at life’s decisions and whether I have taken them right. Most of the time, I struggle with life and memory and words but when good memories come to my mind, I scribble them down into some pieces of fiction and that is what has been on my mind lately. Though these thoughts might be good or bad, I started a journal to scribble about them.

6 January

A finished task can bring so much of happiness especially if it is a piece of writing. You look at the perfection of the print and wonder at the content and day is spent at admiring yourself and your writing skills though it could be a just a letter at the workplace or even a small message you had to compose. writing is a form of art for you and you recall the years that you had spent time creating content. there are times when you miss those times especially meeting your deadlines and getting praised for the kind of job you did. At present, those times look so distant and you have lost this habit of scribbling down thoughts, stories of movies you have watched, books you have read, music that kept you raving and the experiences you have had. 

5 January

You sit with a pen and a blank page and words come and visit you from somewhere. You just scribble down your thoughts and there are these thoughts that are on the books you have read, the movies you have watched, the songs that you played nonstop on your phone and the experiences you have had. This was the habit until you started editing your writing and posting them on your blog.

Now, sitting with a blank page before me and it scares me if I am unable to jot down a few thoughts. There are attempts to find balance in an uncertain world through the act of writing. You feel that there are dreams of becoming a writer but they are eclipsed by this desire to write, indulge in the writing spree, the act of word after a word after a word in the words of Margaret Atwood. 

4 January

The sight of a blank page is very appealing to me and I want to write something interesting to read later on. What I have always felt on rereading own words is the interesting manner in which such words clearly depict the growth of an individual. Though I may not have achieved anything significant, I feel that on rereading it is like looking at yourself from outside and like the inner life of a stranger.

I have not written anything fictional for quite some time and I think this is something that comes back with a blank page, the urge to write and to record a few thoughts. It would be really good if I can spare time to start writing every day. That would be a remarkable achievement to start recording whatever you want.

I think it is good to start writing and fill it with details. I think it is time to connect the pieces together and start writing the book called Journal of a Female Quixote. May be expand it on the lines of Bridget Jones Diary and get it published.

3 January 2025

I have begun writing in this beautiful new book, in a diary with a green cover, ready to inhabit the creative space that is offered by the blank pages. As I said earlier, writing in a diary is often like baring yourself before the one you love, without any inhibitions and without self-consciousness. I want my lover to admire the beauty of my curves, the tiny details that make my body apart, with its moles and warts. Just like that, I want you to take in my writing with all its beauty and its flaws, completely, unconditionally. So, off to revealing my heart thoughts to my confidante.

2 January 2025

Writing in a journal often means that you are offering yourself, baring yourself  without any kind of censure. In some of the diary writing years, I have thought of publishing mine but it never happened that way because I was too busy with many things and my journal writing endeavours mostly fizzled out before the end of January. This year I want to write a journal that is worth publishing and want to create positive changes in all spheres of life

I like beginning my New Year with a little bit of introspection. Here, I am sitting with my pen and diary while the rest of the family is sleeping. For me, writing is a way of life and I love confiding in my diary almost every day unless overwhelmed with a busy work life. This year, like almost all the years that I have gone by I want to begin with a holistic goal setting of improving every part of my life including the emotional, spiritual, physical and financial spheres of life.

Seasons

You have sang of the seasons of silence, remembrance and eternal sunshine. The heart has learnt its lesson and found solace in the coincidences that life brings.

 You feel scared of the word planning and you drift through life without any plans or outline. There are moments when the heart celebrates its little victories and cries with pure delight at plain finished tasks that are in no way special.

The seasons remain and you have learnt to count the years in a way that is surprising-one that is dependent on memories and not on years. The heart longs for its lost seasons- youth, love, beauty and intellect- and celebrates through recounting one’s lost glory.  

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

 

The Unsent Letters

 

The Unsent Letters

 

 

Dear Sean, 

Just the other day, I heard the song Phir Le Aaya Dil from the movie Barfi on the radio. I was transported to the time when we were head over heels in love with each other. When I think of our days at college, I wonder how naive we were and what a beautiful bond we shared. 
 

For me, you were a refuge from the troubles of this world and your hand held unconditional support in those days. Now, in an era of infinite longing, I am reminded of those good old days of togetherness,whenever I hear this song. 

Love

Berry 

 

Icarus and the Sun

kindness

An evening

In the midst of this summer tedium,we meet again,
In the same old park where we used to sit around, 
Reading books and chatting for hours altogether, 
While the ancient tabeubia trees bore us witness. 

Once again, the carpet of pink blossoms is made, 
For you and me to sit and doodle with lifelessons-
The serious thoughts about the angst of this life , 
The trivial thoughts about the colours in the world. 

You are a strong shoulder that I had let go earlier, 
Your few words fill me with so much of happiness, 
I am the mighty wordsmith in whom you believe, 
The one who can conjure up new worlds in verse.

You and I talk of the serious and trivial meet again, 
In our old hang-out under the same ancient trees.

Spring

positive thought

When you wake up in the morning, you can think of the ways in which you can be creative with the day. Most of the time, people are worried about the past or the future and they are not fully open to the present.

Today is a new day and then only then you will be able to understand the meaning of the word present, which also means a gift. That means to be fully open to the world of possibilities and like the poet says to wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving. 

A lament about lost love: K R Meera's novella Meera Sadhu

Love is like milk, with the passage of time,it sours, splits and becomes poison.

The novel portrays the tragic life of Tulsi torn between duty and love and she chooses to run away with Madhavan instead of marrying her classmate Vinayan. She finds that though she loves Vinayan, she gets carried off her feet by the kind of love that Madhavan gives her.

She runs away with Madhavan on the eve of her wedding though she knows from his own mouth that she is his 27th girlfriend. Soon, she recognises that she does not have a role in his life and the story is a lament about lost love.

Through lyrical passages that describe the desire that Madhavan arouses in Tulsi, the author captures the beauty of love buy equally descriptive are her details about his treachery in love, the countless women that he has relations with. This wounds her and she grieves how she sacrificed her career and her life for the sake of the man she chose to be with in life.

The novel details the transformation of Tulsi from a loving wife to Meera Sadhu grieving her life and serving others in the ghats of Varanasi. The frequent shifts in time cleverly portray her memories about her marital life including the good times and the bad times.

Learning Curve

You read and study about the world and the things that you have an interest in. You never cease in your pursuit of knowledge and you do not rest for even a minute.

Whatever task you lay your hands on, you want to learn it and do it in a better manner and that is an your understanding of learning and becoming an expert in your daily tasks or bettering your work or learning how to cook your meals or learning how to read faster.

Sometimes, you might learn a subject just out of pure interest without having any particular aim in learning it except for the pure fun of understanding what it is about.

People might ask you: What is the use of learning this now? Will this serve any practical purpose? But you tell that learning your area of interest is necessary for the purpose of developing your understanding of it and whatever you need to know, you need to know it urgent.

You have your idiosyncrasies and your quaint tastes in reading but you for sure that your knowledge will come of use someday sometime may be in another world that might be made complete by your deep understanding.

Your life gets meaningful by the very task of simplifying all tedious work through an overall understanding of how to make it simpler, better and easier.

enough

X'mas Tree

One last time before taking the Christmas tree down!

My roots strangely

Sometimes, you learn how to feel this sense of belonging to an unreal world and I belong only to you, my love. 

I have never felt this sense of belonging to this place that I left as a child where my brother and I stood in the cemetery every year praying for his dead soul. 

I do not belong to my father's family since its all dead and gone, with a few bones scattered in a churchyard long and far away though you get occasional visits, calls and messages from people who look just like you. 

I  do not belong to the place where I grew up in my mother's native place beside the River Green, where it was always fun to be playing in water yet there were rightful inheritors who belonged just because they grew up there. Then there were homecoming that were full of affection from your grandparents or their visits to our city that were memorable. 

Now, I belong by marriage to a family which calls me my own though the blood that runs through my veins is hardly theirs and sometimes I get the feeling that I am home, finally free from this sense of not belonging. 

Do I belong to my co-workers who call me my formal name and I am a familiar stranger who does not have many stories to tell but nods and smiles and passes them by. Yet, there are times when you connect with someone and you feel that you have always belonged there and you sense this bond that goes beyond words. 

Then, in an imaginary realm, my love, you are the one who star in my all my dreams, the one whose thoughts occupy this arid life and I long for your presence just like one longs for rain in summer. 

You know me inside out like the palm of your hand or like the page of a well-thumbed book and what makes me a woman when I am with you. You know my

feminine spirit and tenderness and not my occasional clownishness in trying to belong to some name, some family, some tribe, where I do not belong.

It is to you that I belong, your complement that fulfills and completes you,  in the melting down of the barriers between you and me, and the all engulfing tenderness that follows our lovemaking. 

That is the space where I see myself as feeling belonged and as having a pet name that you call me always. 

Purple Riot

The purple riot began

And took root slowly.

Who would've thought
Who would've known

In the rear view mirror
It looks like spring again

It's snowing every morn
And melting by evening.

The beauty that returned
The songs that don't cease

One day sitting nearby
Feeling the full purple riot

The deep desire in your eyes
That sang to me whole night

The hand that almost reached
The purple riot in your heart.

self love

Journal: Serious and Trivial

The pages of my journal await to record a few thoughts. These could serious, trivial or even a mixture of both just like life. All these rambling thoughts were gathered from the same quixotic heart that has loved to dream, to fly, to win and to endure.

The serious thoughts were all about love and the longing to be with the one you love and the need to make him your heart's anchorage and sacred space, how from a chance acquaintance he grew into my world and how this love is celebrated in an alternate universe of togetherness.

The trivial thoughts were scribbled on early mornings as a bundle of words in the dream journal as a celebration of the pure delight of being alive, when a burst of fresh air, a bit of bright blue sky or a belief in the goodness of life were more than enough to keep this heart on cloud nine.

But the best ones are the mixed ones, a little serious and a little trivial about things that celebrate the joy of life that finds room in today's dream journal. 

Rebus Writing

 I really miss the days when people texted more than Yes, No, ok, and what? and abbreviations and short forms than send meaningful long sentences, properly capitalised, spelt and spaced meaningfully. May be you might think that I am a purist but this craving exists to get a well written letter or a handwritten page.

I remember there were friends who could match wit with wit, anger with anger and repartee with repartee, all in matter of seconds and you could roll in laughter at the words they said. You look with nostalgia at the SMSes that could make  your day.

I really miss those texts in words, invites, reminders, emails and missing you messages not the rebus that you read these days. I think want2cu2moro is good enough but I think might like a longer text that goes: I missed you a lot today, my dear and want to see you tomorrow. Please stand near the tabeubia tree where we usually meet. 

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Your warm eyes jolt me into whirlpools of desire and I want to forget myself and everything around me. My only focus is on you and nothing but your breath and the warmth of your body. Your words draw me close and I completely leave the world I have to be with you. I'm drawn into your world and I submerge myself in the tides of your passion. I want to watch you sleep peacefully in the calm after the storm. I gain an understanding about love and the ways in which our love is going to stay. I want you know that this love is our sanctuary, a bond that will endure. I want you to know that our connection will weather any tempest, and we will remain together.

Love

Berry

rebus writing

I really miss the days when people texted more than Yes, No, ok, and what? and abbreviations and short forms than send meaningful long sentences, properly capitalised, spelt and spaced meaningfully. May be you might think that I am a purist but this craving exists to get a well written letter or a handwritten page. 

I remember there were friends who could match wit with wit, anger with anger and repartee with repartee, all in matter of seconds and you could roll in laughter at the words they said. You look with nostalgia at the SMSes that could make your day. 

I really miss those texts in words, invites, reminders, emails and missing you messages not the rebus that you read these days. I think 

want2cu2moro is good enough but I think might like a longer text that goes: I missed you a lot today, my dear and want to see you tomorrow. Please stand near the tabeubia tree where we usually meet. 

I love your meaningful silences and how you read me without using words. But, I want to hear what you think, that too unedited and free.I want to read messages that are honest and unedited showing exactly what you think and about what you want. 

Most of the time, I want to have candid chats with you, ones that stay with me all the time and ones that could keep me warm throughout the wintry days. 

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Do you remember how you had given me a CD of popular songs and soon they became my favourites as well. It was your way of making people happy that made you a favourite among them.  I was smitten by your charm and what was missing after you were gone was your ways of making one feel special.

The OSTs from popular movies were my favourites- be it Titanic or Armageddon or Robinhood. Our world revolved around discussions about books, films and music. This year, as I am making a playlist memories of our candid chats pop up before me and once again I feel happy to have met you though we lost touch somewhere along the way. This year, I will create a playlist for you so that you will get a chance to listen to my favourites and croon them in your melodious way.

Love

Berry

 

death

Reading Meghadutam

 

May be it was the shape of his beloved's favourite beast

Bent down to butt a riverbed that inspired him to poesy.

May be it was the memory of his lover's sandalwood body

Or the grief of separation from her that made him sing so.

Whatever the reason might have been for him to compose,

He thought of her long hair without adornments or flowers

Drawn together in a single sweep in the long absent months,

He sang this musical erotic message promising rejuvenation.

He thought of her beauty that made him err in his daily duties,

The early hours of the morning when he spent hours with her,

Which he didn't want to forsake and plucked the holy lotuses,

Which he plucked before time to get punished for a long year.

When the rain bursts on her, he wants her to remember him,

Who in the eight months of absence longed to be with her!

Beannacht: A Blessing for the New Year

For Josie

On the day when

The weight deadens

On your shoulders

And you stumble,

May the clay dance

To balance you.

And when your eyes

Freeze behind

The grey window

And the ghost of loss

Gets in to you,

May a flock of colours,

Indigo, red, green,

And azure blue,

Come to awaken in you

A meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays

In the currach of thought

And a stain of ocean

Blackens beneath you,

May there come across the waters

A path of yellow moonlight

To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow

Wind work these words

Of love around you,

An invisible cloak

To mind your life.

[Note: "Beannacht" is the Gaelic word for "blessing." A "currach" is a large boat used on the west coast of Ireland.]

Daily

My heart has always yearned to explore the world with you by my side-to wander through uncharted lands, to discover hidden gems of beauty and to find beauty in the simplest of things. I have always dreamed of waking up next to you by my side and watch the streak of dawn across the sky.

One of my deepest desires is to visit my ancestral home near the River Green, to witness the majestic snakeboats gliding effortlessly across the water during the Onam festival. I long to feel the cool water envelop me, to laugh like a carefree child, and to relive the joy of my childhood.

I also hope to visit the old graveyard where my loved ones rest, to pay my respects to those who have passed on, and to remember the stories of their lives. Perhaps, in the silence of the graveyard, I will find a glimpse of the love and beauty that has been lost with time.

My dreams are not just about places and experiences, but also about the emotions and connections that make life worth living. I yearn to find love again, to rediscover the beauty that has faded with time, and to relearn the art of smiling like a child, with abandon and joy.

And, maybe, I'll find the courage to wear a spot of sindhoor on my forehead, like a newly wed woman, with pride and happiness in my heart. To feel the warmth of love and connection, to know that I am cherished and to radiate joy and contentment.

These are my dreams, my desires, and my hopes- to live life to the fullest, to love without fear, and to find beauty in every moment, with you by my side.

Us

I have a self that knows years of sense and more nonsense. I stand alone in crowds yet walk with you in green fields at the same time. I run in many new paths sitting at my armchair though I never leave my  world but for fresh signs or old paths. 

You are my other self, whom I do not know for I have never seen you as you really are, for I was struck blind by your light. and love was something that naturally followed. You were not with me in the physical sense yet I know you were with me in each and every circle round the holy fire and will find you near me in every dream.  

You are my favourite daydream that I return to time and again just to hold your hand in an unreal realm where rules don't matter and hearts speak only the truth. In another world, in a different circle of life, you and I will win our eternal game of love and may understand each other perfectly well. For us, time and space have never been important concerns for both of us and all that remains is the sense of unconditional love for the self and the other. 

#twinflamereunion 

#love

Masks

You and me have worn many masks with each other. Any other woman would leap and violently tear that mask of silence off your face. But I watch in silence, everyday, how far will you carry the game. You will only smile and say the same words of courtesy. But when your silence is broken by hoarse laughter that sounds so hollow, all my anger disappears and I find you the same as ever, childish and ever trying to hide your insecurity in being aloof and in being funny. After finding out how you feel, I see that I try to do the same with you.