Ritu Lalit's Blog, page 2

Anthem

[image error]




Faith
Can’t keep us together
Families
Not speaking to each other
Friends
Blocked for ever
Marriages
Can’t combat this divider
 
Conservative right-wingers
Will continue to linger
But logical thinkers
Are losing their blinkers
 
Anger
The spell is broken
Liars
The youth has spoken
Screams
Futures being taken
Pain
Bodies being broken
 
Conservative right-wingers
Will continue to linger
But logical thinkers
Are losing their blinkers
 
Streets
Cold and wet
Kids
Should’ve been in bed
Burnt
Books meant to be read
Trust
Should’ve been kept
 
Conservative right-wingers
Will continue to linger
But logical thinkers
Are losing their blinkers
 
Fight
For we are romantic
Rally
For the right to co-exist
Sing
Our culture should resist
Dance
For our love to persist



[image error]

Wish you all a great 2020

I am not a religious person.  There is a reason for that.  Being born in a Jain family, I was exposed at a very young age to the idea that our senses lead us to temptations.  Our body is evil, and it must be denied so that we can attain nirvana.

[image error]

What if they are mistaken? 
What if there is nowhere else to go to? 
And, what if there is no chocolate pastry in the place where we get our
nirvana?  Or worse still, what if we deny
ourselves all the good things we get in this life and miss the mark?  In short, no chocolate pastry, no high
voltage sex, no luxuries and no nirvana?

So in 2019 I celebrated the best ME I could be.  I took me out shopping, I went on vacations
with old friends, I looked after my health, I wrote books and blog posts.  I laughed a lot, cried a lot and generally
spent the whole year looking after myself.

Yes, it was a big deal.

[image error]

We women spend all our lives putting ourselves on hold.  There are parents to obey, in laws and
husbands to care for, kids to nurture, targets to nail and bosses to be
appeased.  I did all that my whole life. 

In 2019 I decided I would do this for a change.

It will go down as one of the best years of my life.

I did not look to others for validation.  I did not seek anyone else’s approval. Just
mine. 

In doing so, I rediscovered myself.

It was wonderful. It was nirvana in real time.

So, what will I do in 2020?

More of the same of course!

Wish you all a happy 2020 and may you have the best time of your lives in the coming year.  May you all experience total liberation from all that is holding you back.

Blessings

[image error]Happy New Year 2020 background with gold clock

PHOENIXRITU, THE COMEBACK LADY

I identify with the Phoenix. 
Someday I am going to write my life story.  Us mein tragedy hai, comedy hai, action
hai aur haan sex bhi hai. 

Ha! Kidding.  I don’t have that big an ego.  Also I don’t have the guts.  Besides, if I did write the aforementioned autobiography, I’d get sued and disowned by my kid.  Its tempting though. It would be a best seller.

So where was I? 

Yes.  I identify with the Phoenix.  Like that mythical bird, I have burnt to cinders time and time again and come up stronger.

[image error]I love this blue and orange phoenix image

But may be this is more me. No matter how hard life punches me in the nose, I bounce back

[image error]You punch me and I bounce back



I was a sickly kid.  Now I realize it was my way to cry for
help.  My mother was abusive and I was
groomed to keep up appearances.  Guess
what? I survived and escaped.Left home and got married.  BYE POT, HELLO FIRE.  Left abusive mother and enabling father to
land up with an abusive mother-in-law AND enabling husband.  Ran the fuck off with my two kids.Got a job, raised the kids.  Went back to abusive situation when my father
died and my mother had no one else to be with her.  The older she got, the more abusive she
became.  I stuck around till she
died.  I had no choice.  She had no one else.  My health suffered; my kids suffered.  Long story short, I did not grieve her much
when she died.  It was a relief.I got estranged from one son.  THERE! I have said it.  Me and my older son haven’t spoken to each
other for the past three years. I love him dearly, I miss him every day but we
do not have a relationship.  I console
myself with Khalil Gibran’s beautiful words :

 Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s
longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong
not to you.

You may give them your love but not your
thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their
souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of
tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your
dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not
to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with
yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as
living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the
infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His
arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for
gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Friends ask me, how do you do it.  They say I am made of steel.  No, I am not. 
I am human just like everyone else. 
I too am flesh and bone, I weep bitter tears but I also laugh and love.

And I try.

Because life is a gift.  To be gifted life as a member of the sentient
species is a gift of incalculable value.

Today one of the elderly parents I used to visit killed himself.  He lived alone, away from his children and grandchildren. Men have a hard time with estrangements.  They are trapped by social norms, conditioned to not express their emotions.  They don’t vent.  They don’t cry. 

Stoicism is over-rated.

So how do I do it?

I do it because of you my friends.  I lost people when I ran away from home to
get married.  I lost people when I
divorced my husband.  I lost people when
I left my job and changed cities after the estrangement with my son.  But my tribe grew.  It evolved as I grew with every setback.  Here’s the thing.  Being positive, being alive, being open and
above all, being acutely aware of one’s own self, one’s failings and strengths
makes others want to spend time with you.

This blog post is a shout out to all people
who feel isolated.  You’re not
alone.  All of us are carrying pain, dealing
with rejection.  Each one of us is
suffering. Reach out.  Love despite
rejection.

We’re on this earth on temporary visa.  We all will be dead one day.  So why pre-empt it with suicide?

Life is all about giving voice to the spark
within us.

So Live, Love, Laugh, Cry, Rant, Vent

DON’T GIVE UP

The Fork in the Road

[image error]



So which turn do I take
The left where nothing's right
Or the right where nothing's left
So which turn do I take?

There's no reason to stay
No fresh mountains to climb
So I should be on my way
Leaving the dross behind

It doesn't matter which turn we take
Climb peaks or into oceans descend
Doesn't matter if we win or loose to fate
It's just the journey that matters in the end

Things of beauty

[image error]Image processed by CodeCarvings Piczard ### FREE Community Edition ### on 2017-06-24 09:14:42Z | http://piczard.com | http://codecarvings.comy€ÿéÛ`Ú(

Humans have an urge to destroy beautiful things. It’s irresistible. I have never come upon a pristine school desk or a monument which does not have graffiti on it.

Let’s talk about Kashmir. The land of Sufi poets, the land of snow-capped peaks, apple orchards and chinar trees.

[image error]

Yes, by all means, let’s talk about Kashmir

Years ago, my ex came back from a business trip to Srinagar where a man asked him if he was from India.  He replied that he was from Faridabad in Haryana.  The reply was, Yes, that is in India, right?  The ex said, Visit the place before it breaks away from the country.  It is beautiful.

Why are beautiful things destroyed? I am thinking of the Bamian Buddhas destroyed by the Taliban in our life time, or the Library of Alexandria in 272 AD. History tells us how beautiful Hindu and Jain temples were destroyed in the Islamic invasions of India.  Wikipedia has an entire page dedicated to the list of destroyed cultural heritage. The list of destroyed Chinese monuments is extensive.   It does not take a cataclysm to destroy them.  Often it is just an issue of us and them.  Of our Gods and Customs versus theirs.

This blog is not about political differences or even about religious ones.  I am trying to steer clear of politics.  It’s a hard task, because sometimes it takes everything to keep shut when the imagination paints vivid pictures of what might be happening during the clamp down on media.  After all, we were fed vivid pictures of what happened in Syria. As Pol Pot, erstwhile dictator of Cambodia famously said,

He who protests is an enemy, he who opposes is a corpse.

So lets not discuss politics and the cost ordinary people
have to pay.  A very steep price
indeed.  The gas chambers of Hitler are
an example of this.

The truth is wars are fought by corporations with deep
pockets.  No one wins them.  Not the soldiers who get maimed or killed.  Not the women and children who are destroyed. 

The only winners are corporations who benefit economically. 

 Ask Afghanistan if
its happy with its maimed children and women who have suffered atrocities.

Or Syria which is destroyed.

My heart bleeds for Kashmir and its disenfranchised
populace.

You may say they brought it upon themselves,

You may call what’s happening a political masterstroke.

But I wonder at the price its people have been paying and are still paying.

Cycle of abuse

You walk away. I slam the door shut and use my body weight to keep it shut so that I can keep you from seeing that you actually hurt me. It would give you satisfaction.

You never apologized. You never owned up to the number you did on me. We had the same fight again and again …. back and forth, same issues. It’s like a stupid dance. We have become pros at getting on each other’s nerves on petty issues.

I lean against the door hoping someone cared enough to come and check on me. No one cares enough.

Now the venue of the fight changes. It goes internal. I learn to hate myself. Something is wrong with me, I say. My mother hated me. He hates me. I have nothing, no one. The self hatred leads to me wishing I had never been born. No one will believe me. Mother is a good woman and he is charming. …

The cycle of abuse … public faces are blemish free

Years later everything has changed and nothing has changed

The little girl still longs for unconditional love

The young woman still wants the respect of her partner

But the older woman soldiers on, bolstered by people cheering her on. She made friends, some good some bad. She learned lessons, and, most importantly, she kept going.

Onwards and upwards she tells herself in the words of Buzz Lightyear

Onward and upward

Melancholy

Beautiful monster
Majestic and strange
What scares you more
When you howl out your pain
To the full moon?
When you scream
your angst to the sky?
Getting a reply
Or hearing your howl's echo
Return to you un-pacified?



[image error]

Circle of Stones

No
Is my superpower
No
Lays down my magic circle of stones
No
Is self preservation
No
Says I've given enough already




[image error]Striped stones arranged to a circle – isolated on white with original shadows

It’s all the same

I really don’t care

I am scared

I will chant

The name of your God

I will shout Jai Sri Ram

Or make the sign of the cross

Or scream Satnam Vahe Guru

Or chant AllahuAkbar

So will you let me live?

Please let me live

I have kids to feed

Parents to return to

A wife to love

A job to do

Let the heavenly gods

Play their lofty games

Just let me go

I’ll chant his name

To me it’s all the same

Without regrets

I did not unlove you overnight
It is not a thing one does
Over morning tea
I did it slowly over time
While you were rubbing me in the grime
Every time you mocked me;
you tore a bit of me
I grew new skin,
Inch by inch
Every time you broke my heart
Tore it apart
I grew it anew
To be resistant to you,
Piece by piece
I built a new soul
Slowly
Painfully
With tears blood and sweat
And without regrets