Writing & blogging helps me process thoughts & emotions. But what happens when I feel too overwhelmed to make time? They crescendo & boil over, splattering all over the screen. But thankfully not this one.

There is a tendency to only want to post the presentable, the decent. Some bloggers do rant and expose their weaknesses, and kudos to them. It’s not easy.

Do I want to leave a permanent digital footprint of my moments of folly, especially when the clouds quickly pass over and the sun shines anew? Not particularly. Yet, what if those moments of confusion outnumber those of clarity? I may have to rethink my strategy.

I have traveled between New York & Philly  six times in six weeks. The first time was by local train, which I almost missed because of subway construction on the weekend re-routing me, and having to stop for someone who needed medical assistance. The last time was by Bolt Bus, which I almost missed because of center-city traffic and bad planning.

This is my last time. I’m on the bus now. I haven’t had the time to write much, being so caught up with “being with my family.” Which is inevitably highly emotional.

Goodbye family & friends & familiarity. I ain’t got no home, no country…

“How deeply you touch another life is how rich your life is.”–Sadhguru

I like this quote because it redefines wealth, which seems to be a primary concern of many. When I was growing up, I was spoiled by having the things I wanted, and I took them for granted. Yet, I also slowly realized that what I really wanted couldn’t be bought. I wanted to be happy. I didn’t want to do anything just for money; I wanted fulfillment. Money wasn’t a driving force in my life.

Is money the key to happiness?

As a full-time volunteer, maybe I’m not earning financially, but the value I get from being with others, offering myself to help them, is far more precious. Sometimes I struggle with the idea of not making money, since I have always grown up believing I would have a career. But I am creating possibilities for myself which are beyond monetary reward, which I myself find truly worthwhile.

My grandfather can’t understand how I could have come here to help him, and would rather that I earn something and leave him alone. It’s no surprise that he didn’t have great relationships with relatives, since he apparently does not appreciate being with family.

The other day I shucked fresh Jersey corn with my nephew, & I feel this trip is the same: day by day, peeling back more and more layers, down to my core. Spending time with loved ones doesn’t cost money, it costs love–and that is invaluable.

or striving for what I really

want to be?

Am I meandering,

or steadily treading the path?

Am I turning down the good life

for one which is great,

or am I simply settling for less?

America, a land of bounty

and wasted possibility.

India, a barren wasteland

but filled with beauty unseen.

Thirty minutes before our bus was to leave from Jaipur, we realized that we should have notified the Foreign Registration Office of my departure, as per regulations. Salil rushed off to get the necessary stamps…

Fortunately, he made it just in time for the bus. Having to haul all of my luggage alone signaled to me that I needed to do some lightening up. The small bag I was pulling kept wobbling to and fro, partly because of the pocked road and partly because I had packed it unevenly with over a kilo of gul kand on one side! It turns out my medicine is not the most travel-friendly as a result of its weigh. But I’d rather be healthy & deal with the heaviness… At least I have moved on from being a snack mule (I used to have to bring lots of food with me, in case hunger struck at an inopportune time).

The stamped papers turned out to be unnecessary, since the border control didn’t ask for them. He did, however, ask if I was traveling alone (and his eyes seemed to ask, “Why?”). He wasn’t shy to ask why I didn’t have kids, and to offer his condolences for the lack thereof (“That’s too bad!”). It’s no wonder that the lady who did my metal detection told me, “You look strained.”

After my normal wait to board as late as possible, I found myself behind a very well-dressed, Euro mother-daughter duo, the latter of whom was eagerly tapping away on her Blackberry with her boarding pass stub in her mouth for verification—the steward joked, “Are you hungry?” It turned out they were in my row, just across the aisle.

As we were getting ready for takeoff—switching off all devices and uprighting all chairs—the daughter was talking on her phone. Another steward repeated numerous times, “Madam, please turn off your phone now,” which she proceeded to ignore until her mom whacked her and confiscated the phone. Though she must have been at least 18 or 20, she burst into tears which didn’t dry up until well after take-off.

Once we arrived in the Zurich airport, I set off for the chapel—my chosen spot to do my Isha Yoga practices. Although I asked for directions, they only led me to the wrong side of the wall. I stopped in a pharmacy to ask again; I was reminded of how I used to love spending what could have been hours, perusing all the European healthcare products which seem so much more sophisticated and interesting than items one might find in a CVS. The employee told me the chapel was in fact just on the other side of the wall, but to get there I had to go outside of passport control (again).

On my way, I spotted the mother-daughter duo, happily doing their duty-free dance. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity; here they are, stuck in cycles of contradictory over-communication and consumption of which they are probably unaware. On the one hand, the daughter is so hooked to her Blackberry, but most likely has very poor communication with her mother, who is prone to violent outbursts. But yet they seek some connection, which they find through shopping, until the thrill wears off. Repeat.

Then there’s me, seeking free wireless. The information desk lady laughed and explained that nothing is free in Switzerland. But I had the last laugh—I found free samples of chocolate in the Lindt store just beside her desk!

How appropriate that my Jewish mother sent me this. I thought it was hilarious & timely, since I’m coming to terms with certain issues related to the theme of kvetching.

I checked out her son’s article in HuffPost, Frame It With Gratitude:

“One way to describe your experience would be to say, ‘This is so annoying I could scream!’ Or you could say, ‘This is so annoying … and my life is really very blessed.’ ” She agreed that could make a big difference.

“But I don’t think I can remember to do that,” she sighed.

To my delight and amazement, my mother has continued doing the practice, and the change has been revolutionary. Seven months after my visit, she sent a card for my birthday. As is our family tradition, it contained a poem she wrote for the occasion. This one I especially cherish. Even though she started losing her sight during those months, the effects of her gratitude practice are evident in this poignant excerpt. And it goes to show you that you can teach an elder human new tricks!

Ninety is just fine with me, I no longer rant and rave
About where the world is heading and my exclusive job to save.
I wallow in contentment and know that I am blessed
Awakening to the joy of living at its best.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been and truly mean each word.
The thoughts that caused the worries now all seem so absurd.
Though my eyesight has been dimmed I see clearer than before,
The glass is not half empty, it’s overflowing to be sure.

Why is it that we have to complain or criticize about what’s there? Even if you want to improve something, surely there are more effective ways of going about it.

Dolls all dressed up

This is Gulli & her new/old gift. It was given a while ago, but kept aside until she could play with it more delicately. She received a similar one that night, which was kept in its box and this one was dusted off for her to play with!

Rustic decor: In the background are sacks of wheat grain, to be ground into flour by the portable mill that visits the neighborhood, pulled by a tractor. My mother-in-law had ordered it for a group of people from a relative who’s a wholesaler, and the others pulled out of the deal. Anyone want some wheat?

the feeding ritual without which no celebration is complete

Gulli was born two months after we moved to Jaipur, so her birthday is another kind of milestone for me. I remember being in quite a bad state healthwise when she was born, and almost not being able to attend her naming ceremony a week later.

I would only eat rice, and everyone was bothering me to eat more because of the joyous occasion. I was trying to hide in the corner, away from the smoke of the puja and what seemed like hundreds of guests. It was hot and I refused to leave the side of the water cooler.

Now she calls me “Becky Chachi” and gets so excited when I visit, but we can’t have conversations beyond “How are you?” She gets frustrated when I don’t understand the rules of the games she invents.

She doesn’t understand that I don’t understand. And I don’t want to learn Hindi…!

I also take the water from fennel soaked overnight, apply castor oil on some chakras, and have done a couple self head massages with sesame oil; the latter two tips were suggested from the Isha Rejuvenation Center.

squeezing out the goo

squeezing out the goo two

requires skill to open--childproof!

mixing

the table to the right is where i work & produce too much heat we sit on floor cushions rather than chairs.

Lovin' Mama G's gulkand