The Sunscreen Song

Wear Sunscreen or the Sunscreen Speech are the common names of an essay titled "Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young" written by Mary Schmich and published in the Chicago Tribune as a column in 1997, but often erroneously attributed to a commencement speech by author Kurt Vonnegut.

An awkward letter to Mr. G.O.D

Dear God,

Hi! Would have asked 'how do you do' but since you are the Almighty you must be doing well. I am sure this letter will find you in the best of forms and idols and books and hearts. I have much to discuss with you, but I think some introduction is owed, since you deal with so many people and I can think of no reason why you'd suddenly recollect which 'child' of yours I am. So, in a bid to save you from any rummaging through the shelves – I am Neha. I'm someone who seeks peace and is ready to pray. I think that's enough because other things do not really matter.

I must also make a confession here, for to confide in you or to pray to you, I have to say a few odd things even if you are the Hon'ble know-it-all. (no offence.. all reverence). I must also admit that till sometime back I never really believed in you.  No, it was not a mark of rebellion or a feat to feel proud of. It was merely an honest answer to a basic question – an honest assessment of my natural beliefs and inclination of psyche. It was not that I didn't think about you. I pondered about you quite a lot and after lot of subconscious thinking during my childhood days I had came to the conclusion that try as I might, I would not be able to believe in you. No offence meant. But I had the belief that you are more of a 'need' than a reality... a 'need-based' entity for those who had nothing else to hold on to. So, I categorized myself as being an atheist and for many years you really didn't figure much in my life. I was a happy atheist albeit not a loyal one. I remember a time when I used to be late to school and the huge iron gates were about to be banged shut - I would throw open the challenge and say, "God, if you exist, you will not let me get punished today for arriving late to school." It was hardly a prayer-- rather more of a selfish dare for you to bite the bait. Needless to say, once I'd escape the punishment, you would slip my mind. And I'd be in my happy world again. Kids do that, you know.

As I grew up some more and as the natural apprehensions in the latter part of my adolescence showed up, which also encompassed more of reading, learning and interpretation (thereby inculcating in me better intellect), I was tempted to subscribe to the notion that there has to be, after all, a method to this madness. The thought was pacific to me. Also because by then I had already challenged you in hundreds of frivolous ways and each time you had come out victorious. (I don't know if that was a sign, I for one never really took it seriously). And thereby I realised that I was turning into an agnostic.

You see, it was not for me to choose what stand I took when it came to you. It was about rubbernecking inside of me and asking the abyss of my core, 'Hey you, do you now believe?"; which, I must admit sometimes echoed back and asked me instead, "Hey you, are you in need?"

I've found myself there a few times these couple of years. In need. Writing – nay, praying to you. It took me a while to trust the whole concept of praying. I am like a kid who has been coaxed into trying something, but when he finds people are staring at him, gets shy and hides behind the curtains.

I do want some things to remain cryptic, so I don't seek to seek. What exactly I wish for, I know not. But I do wish to be peaceful. I want my paranoia about letting people come close subside. I want to be healed. I come to you not with specifics; I am not ready for that as yet. But I am ready to pray. Is it a good beginning?

Love,

Me.

PS: to be continued..if need be.

Le love

Blog: http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/

Wasn't sure of posting it here. But this is a blog that has touched my heart. Thanks to Sidharth for introducing it to me. :) I sincerely wish you 'that' what you wish for!

Picture Courtesy: http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/

This is just another blog in the blogosphere, but it weighs much more and holds more love than anyone could handle in one go. You go through it once and you have to HAVE to stop reading, for your heart begins to dream or weep or *gulp* beat once again. But, then again you visit the blog. Clandestinely. Tip toeing to the webpage for yet another picture or graphic or yet another read. You don't really want to feel what they have felt! Hell no! My troubles are enough for me. TYVM. But when you see so many people pouring out their heart in acceptance, so overtaken by that one feeling -- bowing to the only thing one should readily bow down to -- that you realise there's a ground beneath your feet. You are not the only one.

I have found myself (strangely enough) gazing at the pictures more than the text.. perhaps because the text I sometimes found too personal. It is so personal that I am sure that people who have posted here have not posted for others to read.. they don't care if you read or rubbish it. They write because that's all they find peace in. And they post it onto this blog because they find acceptance here. There is no one here to outsmart them or tell them to go have a life. Its an unabashed, tormented, tortured lover's haven. It is beautiful.


I liked the blog.. but then I find it too overbearing .. too alcoholic.. too stirring..i am not ready for that yet. So again I choose to close it.

PS: I got lost looking at the picture on the top. You will too. :)

http://www.countercurrents.org/rathi220910.htm

A story of mine on maternal mortality got published in countercurrents.com a month back.. (a brilliant portal for those interested in socio-politico-economic issues).. i stumbled upon the story by chance today.


http://www.countercurrents.org/rathi220910.htm


And... I am down and out. Three weeks of nonstop work with weekends spent out of town -- leads neha to a feverish, washed-out saturday.
Wanna write more.. maybe later

lele udaanein meri, le mere par bhi le :)

Yuhuu

I have never felt like this before.

One part of me is hilariously happy – it is deliriously swaying in the kind of happiness that one feels deep inside. It is one of those things which are so precious that you don't even need to share it to complete it.

A part of me is suddenly hopeful. Very very hopeful. Like a quivery flame flickering to life, like a dim hope reignited.. a charged up sound you hear after an age..like a wobbly chair now sitting neat and pretty

And at this very moment, I feel fate is gonna take care of everything. That life is to be lived. And 'lived' is not just a word..it is a tapestry of all the positive energy and rightness we own, in our very veins and blood. Lived means life stayed while time may have clocked by. It is not up to me. So I am relieved of the burden. We do not need to struggle against tides all the time. Foot tapping to a music we do not naturally swing with. It is not worth rowing a rudderless boat just so you know you are alive. You can stop rowing and nothing would have passed you by. You can, sweetie, you can!

Tonight I feel something has been laid to rest. Below the engraved R.I.P, peeking from under the leaves of green-black ivy..the epitaph reads: 'it's okay, baby!".

You know what it all boils down to for me? A simple truth and acknowledgment that we are all Lessons. Lessons, yeah the kind we read in books and are expected to pick up at the end of morality plays.

Lessons wearing jackets and trousers and boots…and we walk around our silly sweet lives. Meeting people. Talking. Dreaming. Sharing. Being. We don't know but all those who we meet.. we share a part of us. They learn, we learn and then .. these lessons learn to co-exist. Give some, receive some and of course, shed some.

People come into our lives, they mess it up and then they leave. They enter as people, and those who exit, exit as lessons. Similarly, we enter people's lives, mess their lives and take a bow.

These lessons make us who we are. These lessons – right from our parents, our siblings, out crushes, our teachers, our mates and our lovers – leave their imprint. We may hate their coming, or we may love their staying, we may cherish or curse each moment spent encountering them - the fact that they leave an inimitable mark is the reality.

Otherwise why would people come and go, why would things happen, why would we need to learn? This coming and going is as good a part of life as perhaps staying.

What happens or happened may not happen for the good in this very moment. But if you see the broader picture, and take a leap two or three years down the line, you will realise, perhaps you needed that lesson.. that person to shake you or make you. I know I sound terribly like the stereotypical 'what happen happens for the good' rhetoric.. and I do realise that things like death and some other catastrophe makes this whole idea seem frivolous. I don't know if what I ramble about here makes sense to you in this day and time. But this 'lesson' thing makes me see easy.

Yuhuuuuuu!