A bleak winter sunshine, spreading its gentle warmth on earth, bringing with it nostalgic memories of the Christmas- New Year season in Bangalore….that was the note on which New Year commenced for me. Gentle….warm….a song in my heart….a bounce in my stride….a sparkle in my eyes.

The Bougainvilla was in bloom, and the pretty pink flowers cast a gentle blush on the plant. The plant stood in the mild rays of the winter sun, its rosy cheeks glowing in the sunshine, happy, fresh and so full of life.

My pigeon turned up faithfully for its breakfast. We had bought it about 2 months ago, and set it free after a week with us. It is happy in its freedom and in the company of its own species, but it faithfully visits us for its food. The other pigeons come too. But my pigeon drives them all away, and then triumphantly settles down to feed on the grains we put out in the garden. It then drinks water from the little pond, and joins its flock. The other pigeons stealthily feed on the leftovers.

The eagle is a fierce creature; but I have come to learn that it is also the most hard-working of all the birds around. In the mornings, while other birds chirp and fly about aimlessly and playfully, I catch sight of the eagle, laboriously gathering twigs and weeds and carrying them to its nest, which is high up on the branches of a tall tree. From the nest, its baby cries out to it. But the mother is too pre-occupied with her morning chores, and pays no heed to the baby. Though I am always terrified of this fierce creature, as it sits on the electric pole, whistling and scanning the earth for prey, I admire the meticulosity with which it goes about its daily chores.

It has been a season of cakes. So much so that I want to get rid of its lingering flavour. On New Year’s day, the cakes reached their peak. After our dean cut the cake, I surprised him with the little present I had bought for him. I had picked up a book I was certain he would love, and then I had scribbled onto a card words that conveyed precious emotions. When he called me later to thank me, what I noticed was that his voice seemed to choke; his words were lost upon me. I re-learnt a lesson that I seemed to have unlearnt over the years. Love demands acceptance, a whole lot more than it demands reciprocation.

I have loved life, and I shall always continue to love life. But I have lost the craving for long years ahead. For how much happier can one be? Contentment is my goal, and content I am. Content with the happy moments in life, content with the materialistic joys in life, content with the relationships life treats me to, content with my contribution to this world….there is no higher goal for me, there is no greater happiness awaiting me. Materialistically and emotionally, there is no greater happiness for me, than what surrounds me now. For as long as I live, I shall carry with me these treasures. But death scares me no more, for there is nothing more that awaits me in this world.
As I laugh with my students, play with the kids next door, smell the roses in the garden, hold monologues with the birds and the trees, allow myself to be infatuated by the cute guy I met the other day, I feel delightfully youthful. And as I silently comprehend behaviours and attitudes and lose myself into deep reflection, I feel not just old, but ancient. There is a strange gentle calmness within me. There are sorrows, but there is no longer the desire to burst into tears. There is happiness, but there is no longer the desire to lose myself into its heights. There is just that desire to hug the memories close, coz there is a strange comfort in looking back at them when the mind is tranquil. And to look back, there is a lifetime. For isn’t time measured by the variety and depth of experiences that one is treated to?

These are my thoughts as I turn 30. And as I post these thoughts on Fropper, I can’t seem to thank you all enough for enriching my life in numerous ways.

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