The Perfect Window

I look at the world through a window! A window which has no bounds; which is much bigger than the biggest in the world; a window through which I jump from one world to another; one which gives me the insight into my own thinking and connects with that of others; one through which I jump and travel through space by the sheer power of my imagination; a window which connects me to me.

The window is beyond a particular time, place or generation. It offers magnificent view of life in all its hues; generation after generation people playing their roles to perfection; passing the baton and yet remaining in touch; keeping their mark intact; beseeching the younger ones to take note and create new mark.

The window carried me through my early life in my village ‘SAKURRU” in East Godavari District of Andhra Pradesh. At a time when most children of my age were content to play around and make merry, providence willed that I look at the world from a different mold. Though I never knew the world beyond the next town, something opened up imaginary vistas for me and that was the time when my window was born. The window became my escape beyond the boundaries of circumstances; when I fell down in the middle of a stream and looked heavenwards; when things which I wished  to possess went out of my reach; when I reenergized myself and said “ I will live a  life full of life”.

“Life full of Life” The window kept up its promise. It led me through new places, circumstances, people and fortunes as easily as a river flows into the ocean; as smoothly as a bird glides on the air pockets; as truly as a child trusts its parents. Day after day, from the balcony of my modest dwelling, it continues to offer me a view into the world and the world beyond. It gives me an opportunity to see all creatures of this world even when I close my eyes.

The window is not external! It is within me.  It is my life’s compass. It has provided an excellent view and taught me where to focus. It has guided my life for the last six decades and is keen to go on as long as the providence wills.

Distant yet very Near

 

“Old flows into New” Sitting in my balcony which is full of creepers, I usually slip into my thoughts. The thoughts which bring my distant past very near to me as if the events, places and people are right in front of me and unfold a grand scene from an equally grand show. At times the past, present and future are so entwined that it becomes difficult to discern one from the other. When I try to get some clarity by starting from one end, I end up stirring up my entire life. Confused as well as amused I look at the entwined creepers in my balcony and it is they who speak the truth. They echo in unison “Old flows into the new year after year and generation after generation. If you try to pull a fresh end of ours, the old ones move too. The very old ones, though down are not done. They spring to life the moment you touch their younger ones; ever eager to be a part of the present and take you into the future”

“Is that what I am doing now?” I question myself and try to lay a bridge across the past, present and future.

“English” It was difficult for me even to dream that one day I will be able to come as near as I did now  to this language. Born in a village which had only one graduate, I found it difficult to be inspired to learn English. To be honest, I made it a point to even skip classes of the elementary school of my village.

So! What made me develop an interest in the language and excel as well? Let us travel down the memory lane.

Going by the academic qualifications, my father was not educated. But, driven by a strong sense of responsibility, he started educating himself in his heart’s desire; “music” during his early teens itself. He went to distant lands, earned a scholarship and perfected his musical skills which became a means of sustenance and succor to his loved ones.

During his stay at home in between the tours, my father used to  set aside a time for practicing ragas so as to prepare for the next tour. I used to watch his routine intently without ascribing any meaning and it drew me towards studies.  I found myself attending school regularly. On one day, Mr Gopalam, the only graduate of our village came to our school and spoke to us in English.

Was that the starting point for me in my long journey in the companionship of English? Was it the inspiration drawn from my father? Was Mr Gopalam a role model for me?

I did not know anything at that time. But looking back it can now be said that the main force behind my transformation was my father and Mr Gopalam helped lay the foundation.

Small Images! Big Memories!!

“Sixty has become Three Hundred and Sixty”.

Over the last few months I have had a strong feeling that my life has taken a full circle and that it took sixty years for me to reach the starting point. It may even be called as the end of one circle and that is the reason I have termed this stage of my life as “Sixty has become Three Hundred and Sixty”. The second circle has begun and I am back to my childhood. A childhood where my present matured mind is seeking answers to many questions which remained unanswered during my actual childhood and is trying to ascribe meanings to a lot of things unexplained. For this, I know that I have to get into my childhood in all earnestness in thought and form and come out once in a while to put my experiences on paper.

An image which is very strongly etched on my mind is that of my father returning home after long tours of musical concerts. He was a “Carnatic Sangeeta Vidwan” and used to perform at various places in and out of Andhra Pradesh and used to be on tours spanning few days to few months. One had to cross a small stream to enter our village and usually I used to spot my father crossing the stream on his return from tours; a Tanpura (a veena like instrument used to provide rhythm) in one hand and bedding in the other hand. What I felt immediately was a sense of joy and security. I am the last but one of my siblings and by the time I came to know the ways of the world, all my elder siblings had moved out of the village. Though my mother used to take good care of me and my younger sister, I longed for the presence of my father around me.  The short spells which I spent with my father are a real treasure; the way I used to hold his hand and go to our field, happily play around when he is tending to the coconut trees, listen to him practicing “Thyagaraya Keertanas” and be attentive when he is offering prayers to “Syamala Devi”. The way I used to cuddle up to him and listen to the stories narrated by him is something beyond explanation.

That was as far as I understood. What I didn’t understand at that point of time was why should he remain away from me for such long spells of time and why can’t I spend every hour of everyday with him. What I also didn’t visualize is how my life is going to be shaped by the longing which is inside me.

Looking back now I understand that the joy of seeing my father was because I wanted to be like every other child of the village; to be always alongside my father; to share joy, fear and difficulties; to feel protected; to be pampered; to show off small little achievements and be rewarded. The above might have sounded very small for those children who were fortunate to have their fathers live and work in the village, but for me it was a fortune.  Those children had other things of the world to be shared and enjoyed but for me “My Father was My World”.

My matured mind is now trying to take over and is saying “It was a great sacrifice on the part of your father; touring and musical concerts were a means to support his family and he did it with great love and devotion. Do you know that he too missed his family as much as you missed him? If you recollect the way he embraced you on his return and the quality time he spent with you is something which can last a whole lifetime. May be that is the reason you are being drawn towards your childhood now”.

I know that there are many images and many feelings to follow!