The Vine of Desire

Chitra Banarjee Divakaruni is at her best, exploring facets of intimate relationships.... through introspection, self analysis, assimilation and self discovery..... especially so of women. The Vine of Desire is a powerful narrative, delving deep into the minds and emotions of it's principal characters.

Anju and Sudha would be familiar to those who've read her earlier book 'sister of my heart', and would know how close, and almost psychic a connection the two cousins share.

Anju gets married and moved to America. A miscarriage leaves her depressed and lonely and when she feels her marriage won't survive it, she invites Sudha to come and live with her. Sudha readily agrees, in the hope that life in America will find her freedom from a painful divorce, from an earlier boyfriend, and from her own deep conditioning. 

Complications start when Anju's husband, Sunil, gets dangerously attracted to Sudha, and then there are the complications of it's impact on a marriage already heading downhill. 

Each of them try to distract themselves by focusing on Sudha's little daughter Dayita, but there's no getting away from the inevitable moment of truth, when all lines heading inward get caught in a vortex of emotions....the clash of reality....then deflect, to each goes it's own way, away from the other,  as far away as they think they can.

Chitra's women are, as always, women of substance, seeking and finding identity and freedom... from relational controls, cultural bindings and their own conditioning. They are women you want to know.

Her style of writing in this book was so innovative and interesting. She uses letters. Each writing letters to different people....their mothers, aunts, friends, college submissions and even dead people . And it's through these letters that you see the stark differences between reality within, and reality without. Where the 'authentic' is either getting left behind or is in process of growth.

Her narrative is typically from each persons point of view which is such a refreshing take on perspectives. She also used  a style for a whole chapter of 'what I said was this' and 'what I wanted to say was this'. Again the tug of war between authentic and reality evident. Fascinating.

I enjoyed the reading, each moment getting more and more caught in the entangled vines she wove.... (Asha Latha ) Vine of Desire.... and it's left me hoping for more from Chitra.

Revolutionary Road

Kate Winslet and Leonardo di Caprio, yet again creating something as powerful as the Titanic, this time maybe not as flamboyant or beautiful, but more intense and hard hitting.

It is set is the early 1950's of America, and starts beautifully enough with the two falling in love almost at their first meet, and what connects them seems to be this dream of a bohemian life, one of choice and passion. (unrealistic? idealistic?)

The movie quickly fast forwards eight years.. married, a middle class suburban life, a decent job, a fixed routine, a neat home, two children, good neighbors, friendly dinners. While it all seems a perfectly settled space, April is holding onto their dream, unhappy and afraid of the path she sees ahead, one that looks set to go through to the end of life. 

Still very much in love with each other, her unhappiness and suffocation evident, Frank cares enough to buy into a restart of their dream. She has the plan...to up life as they have it, and move to Paris, where she will get a job as receptionist and he will be able to follow his passion. 

Energy and laughter comes back into the little household. 

For a while. Until life throws a curved ball at them. A nicely disguised one. He gets a promotion and a raise, and she gets pregnant. He bows to both. She doesn't. Her dream is her life...she's willing to give it all she has, but there's only so much she can do alone.

The story is pretty timeless, about how men and women turn into what they did not want, and life gets them.

A line from Roger Ebert, one of my favorite, whose review I will typically browse before watching a movie  -  "The film is so good that it's devastating" 

Experiences and your fear of engagement

From Seth

Want to go visit a nudist colony?

I don't know, what's it like?

You know, a lot of people not wearing clothes.

Show me some pictures, then I'll know.

Well, actually, you won't.

You won't know what it's like merely by looking at a picture of a bunch of naked people.

The only way you'll know what it's like is if you get seen by a bunch of naked people. The only way to have the experience is to have the experience.

Not by looking at the experience.

By having it.

But having an experience for the first time is frightening. So we try to avoid the fear by simulating it, putting the experience into a box that makes it like something else we've done, something that's safe. 

Of course, if you put a new experience in the box of an old experience, it's not a new experience, is it? Problem solved.

But you've also just cut yourself off from what that new experience could deliver. A new box. The entire point.

The Gift Of Words

Who better to speak about words than Javed Akhtar. I simply loved the talk (after all I'm a big believer in the power of words too)

An At Home 'Paint & Wine' Evening

Last night (not evening) Diksha and I did a Paint & Wine evening at home.

It turned out such an interesting experience.

The last time I painted, which was my first time too, was at the "paint & wine' with Sujata. And fully inspired by her being with me, I'd bought all the paraphernalia for painting, including an easel, all of which had sat untouched since then (since August)

And now suddenly we decided we'll do a painting. And I was nervous, excited too, but also nervous.

And it was so interesting to see how Diksha just took the lead. I heard "ma, just have fun ma, don't worry about how it's turning out, or about making mistakes" "It's your first, focus on painting, not on the painting, it's not about whether it's good enough" "It's okay if it's not good enough for your wall"

Every half hour she'd come and check, and say encouraging things to make me go on. I saw a complete role reversal, I became the child, looking forward to her little words of encouragement and she the adult, taking it upon herself to see that I relaxed and connected into the process.

At one point, I was like " ayyo, this dabba doesn't have purple, I want purple flowers" and I hear "mix red and blue ma, and white to lighten to the purple you want". How had I forgotten, all those sundays, many many years ago, which I'd devoted to only having them play with colors....tubes and tubes used just to see what combinations gave what colors. Wonderfully nostalgic.

And the final one, "deech, I'm so hopeless at this, not getting my flowers right" and she's like " there's no right ma, it's abstract, and it's yours".

I was getting back my lessons in life. Maybe I'd forgotten and she'd imbibed, and this was a lovely way to relearn.

Diksha engrossed

My messy corner

The output. Diksha's is the graceful and elegant one on the right, and the pretty one (you have to look through my eyes:) on the left is mine. As amateur as mine is, they both went up on my wall.....to mark an evening so bonded and beautiful.

Thanks Deech, for the idea, the thought, the process and above all for 'showing up' in that moment. An evening that will stay cherished.

Selfhood and the Crucible of Identity

This came in this morning's mail, a write up by Maria Papova....I thought it made an interesting read. so here's excerpts:

In one of his most poignant conversations, the Irish poet and philosopher, O’Donohue considers the trap of identity, the relationship between limitation and wonder, and how the unquestioned confines us to smaller and smaller compartments of ourselves:

"Every human person is inevitably involved with two worlds: the world they carry within them and the world that is out there. All thinking, all writing, all action, all creation and all destruction is about that bridge between the two worlds. All thought is about putting a face on experience… One of the most exciting and energetic forms of thought is the question. I always think that the question is like a lantern. It illuminates new landscapes and new areas as it moves. Therefore, the question always assumes that there are many different dimensions to a thought that you are either blind to or that are not available to you. So a question is really one of the forms in which wonder expresses itself. One of the reasons that we wonder is because we are limited, and that limitation is one of the great gateways to wonder.

[…]

All thinking that is imbued with wonder is graceful and gracious thinking… And thought, if it’s not open to wonder, can be limiting, destructive and very, very dangerous."

Questions invite instant opinions more often than they invite conversation and contemplation — a peculiar terror of wonder that O’Donohue presaged:

"One of the sad things today is that so many people are frightened by the wonder of their own presence. They are dying to tie themselves into a system, a role, or to an image, or to a predetermined identity that other people have actually settled on for them. This identity may be totally at variance with the wild energies that are rising inside in their souls. Many of us get very afraid and we eventually compromise. We settle for something that is safe, rather than engaging the danger and the wildness that is in our own hearts.

Because no composite of fragments can contain, much less represent, all possible fragments, we end up drifting further and further from one another’s wholeness, abrading all sense of shared aspiration toward unbiased understanding. 

                                          

O’Donohue offers a gentle corrective:

… All human being and human identity and human growth is about finding some kind of balance between the privilege and the doom or the inevitability of carrying this kind of world.

Even those remnants are not static and solid ground,   but fluid currents in an ever-shifting, shoreless self — for, as Virginia Wolf memorably wrote, “a self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.” 

Amritsar da Safar

This one's from mom:

One fine morning I told Smitha that I would like to visit the 'Golden Temple' in Amritsar, and her immediate reaction was "Let's Go".

And when I told Praveen about our plan he said "Yes, that sounds good, and you can make it when I am with Daddy"

Mahi also gave the 'go ahead' signal !!

So it was planned either in June or December cause that's when Praveen visits us every year. June is too hot, December will be too cold, thus ran our thoughts and ultimately we decided on December. The weather reports were scary, and I developed a knee pain, so we were hesitant to take off but decided - Now or Never - and went along.

We booked our trip for 25th of December, little knowing that 23rd to 25th of December are Guru Gobind Singh's birthday celebrations. With all these adversities we set flight, and landed at Amritsar on 25th late afternoon.

First impression of the city is it's rustic, dusty, unfinished look all along, from the airport to our destination - with a Punjabi Homestay in a gated community called Imperial City, with jumbo sized houses and quite isolated from the main city.

But once we met the lady of the house, she brightened the atmosphere with her friendly chatter.

Evening, freshened up with tea in our room and planned to go out, but could not get any taxi or auto. Then just like a godsend the sardarji who brought us from the airport and who by chance gave his cell number to Smitha was contacted and became our man-of-the-trip for all three days. A warm and friendly local guy, Savinder Singh was our guide too.

Day 1:

As we entered the temple area in the evening we were mesmerized by the first sight of the Maharaj Ranjit Singh statue, erected on a huge and beautiful pedestal:

The entire courtyard was well lit, with only walkways for pedestrians, everyone taking pictures and shopping and relaxing on the benches along the road.

That street reminded me of our midnight walk on the streets of Las Vegas.

The people of Punjab are humble, hospitable and friendly. As we entered the Golden Temple, we witnessed a show of fire crackers as finale for the G G Singh anniversary.

I sat near the Amrith Sarovar (lake of nectar) taking in the beauty & serenity of the place, while Smitha and Savinder Singh went around the sarovar.

We had a nice punjabi dinner at Kundan da dhabha and then settled for a good nights rest.

Day 2:

The man-of-the-tour sardarji (or was it our host) suggested that we should make a trip to Sadda Pind (our village) a one hours drive from Amritsar. At one go we could see and feel the art & culture of the people of Punjab. We spent nearly four hours there including a good lunch.

Smitha wheeled me around the village in a wheel chair, so I was able to take it and not feel tired at all and enjoyed the hospitality of the people, starting from mouth watering Makki da roti & Sarson da saag.

Evening we again visited the Dharam Singh market outside the Golden temple, and did a little bit of shopping, mostly paapads.

Day 3

An off-the-routine cross country trip to a place called Tarn Taran. This was not on our plan, but strangely so happened that we chanced upon a Punjab state guide in our room, and Smitha picked up this place. Started off at 9 am. Our man-of-tour advised us to pack and move out in the morning itself, so we could go directly to the airport after the day out. So we had a quick breakfast and bid goodbye to our host Romy ji.

A foggy day, the entire route was lined on both sides with Sarson da keti, bright yellow flowers, it was a beautiful drive, and then we reached the Gurudwara.

Here I should mention that the approach to the Gurudwaras are crowded, chaos everywhere with vehicles and people, but once we reach the inside, it is so beautiful and serene. This Sarovar is bigger than the Golden Temple's, surrounded by rooms for meditation with adjacent historical buildings (it is told that during the anti sikh riots, this place was badly hit)

After an hour or so, we visited the Golden Temple for final darshan. Also a remark by our host and Savinder ji, and others that they were impressed that two ladies, by themselves, had come all the way from Hyderabad just to visit the Golden Temple, and that too on such an auspicious day, is worth mentioning.

This time saw the temple on a wheel chair pushed by an old Sardarji, shooing away everyone around and forcing me to 'mata tek' (touching forhead ) to every corner before entering the sanctum sanctorium, through a special queue for senior citizens. It was nice to be inside the shrine for a few minutes. 

Then finally bidding goodbye to Amritsar & proceeding to the airport just on time.

Thanks to Smitha, I enjoyed the trip.