Thank you

An uninispired blogger –
Words have eluded me
For many a day
And inspiring thoughts
Refuse to stay

They flash past
With little remorse
And memory fails
When I try it to coerce

These words thus owe
Their frail existence to
Many a word written by
Inspired bloggers like you

Thank you for the words ....

In flight (contd)....

Clouds, roads and myriad greens
A family, career, wants and dreams
A Jigsaw puzzle – In flight!

Packing

Leaving a home for a new one is a heart breaking experience. The vibes/implicit suggestions of an impending movement begin quite early. In fact, contrary to what follows they are actually quite exciting – which place, what sort of work awaits, is it better if I was transferred to some other place instead of this one , what about accommodation and most importantly – maids to do the housework!! The questions are endless and many a waking hour is spent answering them, thinking, speculating and even gossiping to some extent. It then becomes time to start packing and procrastinating. Somehow I guess both go hand in hand, eventually getting to the stage where tension begins to build and the realisation that there may not be enough time at hand looms large. And so we begin...

The first to go are the knick knacks lying easily at hand. Each wrapped in crushed newspapers or old clothes or other things like bubble wrap. The newspapers have their own story to tell; saved out in a corner over the last few months, waiting, waiting and waiting. For what? Waiting to be crushed and stuffed into cardboard boxes – funny one might be tempted to say, but so it is with a lot of other things around us...

The next to go are the curtains and the guest linen, towels et al ... Wash, dry, fold and store or maybe seal first in plastic bags to keep away the dust and store thereafter. The next in line are the extra sheets followed by the curtains. Its when the hanging curtains begin to come down that the first waves of nostalgia begin to creep up. Silently they lie behind innocuous cupboard doors and small scraps of paper... awaiting atop a familiar shelf or in a dusty corner and even a quick look or a passing glance is enough to awaken them.... sights, sounds and images flood into mind's eye often causing a tear to well up and blur vision. Then one stops and wonders at the futility of it all... before pragmatism invades the private counsel and one realises its time to move on again.

Were it not an inanimate object wouldn't we owe our house immense gratitude? We are truly indebted to it for life – to have provided shelter in times good and bad, in times when were right or wrong, in times of happiness and in times of sorrow; and all that without even uttering a single word or rendering unwanted advice or even expressing an opinion about our actions, however wrong they might be. Its a service few living people would render and certainly a debt that most of us would find difficult to repay... and if repay one must then how does one repay one's debt to a home?

In my opinion, just like one would repay one's debt to a sentient being... by doing it some good.... by leaving it in a state better than it was when one moved in and also by being conscious of the debt... the consciousness itself dictates a lot of our actions... ensuring that we return a bit of the 'social obligation' .