Krishna's Musings on Life

Tara picked her way through the stones carefully, bunching up her dress in one hand and holding her sneakers in the other. Nobody had batted an eyelid when she’d appeared in the funky outfit, long sky-blue dress brushing against her black Converse sneakers with red rims. Only Roshni had raised a brow but she’d merely said, “You sure the dress won’t get wet?” Tara had smiled brightly and shrugged. “Meh. Doesn’t matter.” And that was that. What a change from the city! From everything she’d ever known and dreaded. Here, nothing that she’d grown up with mattered. All anyone cared about was good food, laughter, kindness and soft, mindful speech. And Maa. The first time she’d lain eyes on Maa, her breath had caught and her eyes had instantly welled up. She’d approached her slowly, filled with awe, wary of getting too close lest the whole thing disappear like a mirage. But it was very much real. She’d come to a stop right in front of her. Taking one long deep breath, she’d put one foot in fir

His first experience of awareness was his breath – he felt it descend into his lungs before moving slowly out of his nose into the pillow. He lay still, feeling his breath as he brought his attention to his body. It felt stiff; he’d been asleep in the same position all night long. He wiggled his toes gently and stretched out his fingers as breath continued to move in and out of his lungs. After a minute or so, he turned over onto his back. Keeping his torso in place, he stretched his arms and legs taut, releasing the stiffness and sending blood to every extremity. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rocked from side to side a few times. He then gently held his knees and rocked up and down three times before using the motion to sit up. Releasing his knees, he stood up and stretched one more time before heading to the washroom. He emerged twenty minutes later, freshly showered. Opening his cupboard, he pulled out a white kurta and loose white pants – his standard attire. Quietly pulling

The sound of the rain increased. It lashed against the windows now, like a whip hurtling through the air. I watched as the lone white cloth I’d forgotten to pull off the line flapped about violently, almost accusatory, at being left alone. Well, we all gotta fend for ourselves, buddy , I thought sourly. You are synthetic. Let it all roll off you. I turned away from the window, well aware that I was acting crazily but not caring in the least. This was karma . It was finally happening, and I had failed miserably at gracefully accepting my fate. Nuan had been just eight years old when he died. And though I’d been prepared for this day for a long time, let’s face it – just how prepared can you be to lose your child? Nothing in the world readies you for it. Having been brought up in a traditional Indian family, I was a big believer in karma . I firmly held that our actions were responsible for creating our karmic cycle . What we gave out came back to us – this was karma . And I lived my l

If you are a reader, you may have heard of the classic, ‘Anne of Green Gables’. If you are a TV show watcher, you may have heard of the show, ‘Anne with an E’, based on the novel. Growing up, Anne of Green Gables was one of my most favourite books. It was one I returned to over and over, whenever I didn’t have anything else to read or if I’d finished up my library card quota for the week. Till date, Anne remains one of my favourite protagonists. She was a little girl who carried her heart on her sleeve and grew up into a young woman who listened to her heart, flinging it up to the sky so that it became one of the stars and rained her dreams down upon her. She was wishful, dreamy, head up in the clouds, fierce, loyal, loving to a fault and adventurous. She was also an orphan. Adopted when she was 11 years old by a middle-aged pair of siblings, a brother (Matthew Cuthbert) and sister (Marilla Cuthbert), Anne grows up on a little island somewhere in Canada. It’s been years since I’ve rea

I read a book recently about a woman who fights cancer and beats the odds. For months prior, she feels discomfort in her body but keeps dismissing it as nothing. When she finally receives her diagnosis, she’s too shell-shocked to react. She eventually pulls herself together, assuring herself that she will beat the illness. She has a great support system, after all – her family and her fiancé. But barely a few weeks into her treatment, her fiancé leaves her, confessing that he cannot handle a life with a cancer patient. And just like that, she’s fighting a heartbreak bigger than her disease. Imagine feeling the devastation of losing the love of your life and the fear of losing your life, at the same time. The author goes on to speak about how she begins to heal her heart, slowly and almost unbearably painfully.   Here is an excerpt: But let me tell you. The biggest regret I have today is not that my fiancé left. I have made my peace. He was not the one if he could not handle me at my wo

The year was 2015 and the month was October. On a sunny, breezy evening, I stepped onto the beach. After weeks of moping about the house after a breakup, I’d finally left the house to breathe in the outside world for a while. I wanted to watch the sunset. I ambled aimlessly towards the water, staring blankly, my rubber chappals catching on the sand and throwing it up in a choppy motion. My life felt rudderless. “Yes, madam?” A gruff voice broke into my morose reverie. “ Josiyam , madam ? Full pakka future telling.” I turned to my right where the voice had come from and saw a big, hulking man seated on the sand. He wore a beige shirt with the first three buttons unbuttoned and a blue lungi . He held a thick stick in his hand which had a big red design on it. He met my eye and held up the stick. “Come, madam, josiyam . Cheap price.” I wavered for a moment, my father’s scoffing voice ringing in my head. “ Why astrology is real , I’ll never know. People are so foolish!” Then I acquiesced

Over the past year, I’ve slowly begun to ease myself into the practice of meditation. Initially, it started with a few minutes before going to bed. In the past few months, this has expanded to include some time in the morning as well. Discipline has been a long-standing sore point in my life – a sore point that many of you will be able to relate to, certainly. So, sticking to the practice of doing anything for a long period of time has never been a strong suit. Now that I think about it, brushing my teeth is probably the only activity that I’ve practised consistently in all this time – voluntary practice, i.e 😊 So, understandably, all it took was the slightest deviation from the expected for my practice of meditation to come to a standstill. Today, I had a lot of work. The next day, I was tired. A few days later, I received an unexpected phone call. You get the gist. The result was this: my concentration in meditation was extremely poor because I was just not allowing the mind to ge