The Thornbirds

“There is a legend about a bird which sings only once in it's life, more beautifully than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves it's nest, it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales it's breast on the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale.
One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.”
The Thornbird pays it's life for that one song, driven to the thorn with no knowledge of the dying to come. But we, when we press the thorn to our breast, we know, we understand.... and still, we do it... still we do it"
― Colleen McCullough, The Thorn Birds

I love the book and this particular quote. I have read and re read and ruminated over.. dissected, devoured and absorbed it. Had I, good mammaries, I would remember and quote at will.. but I don't so I won't.

Is it true then, that the best is only bought at the cost of great pain? In that case, if I want the best, of life, of love, of all things joyful.. should it be that it has to go through this initiation of fire.. this christening through pain and baptism of agony?

Interesting thought, isn't it. I'd like to look at it positively. If we do believe that there is an awesome reason why we have the trials and tribulations that we do. That there is a sense in all the suffering. That all of this angst is a precursor to something wonderful, don't you think that it would be a lovely formula we can apply to skim through whatever comes our way.
Stoicism is the catch word I would think.

The last line of the quote is special too.. 'But we, when we press the thorn to our breast, we know, we understand.... and still, we do it... still we do it'...

How wonderfully positive this affirmation of life, forbearance and fortitude. If we can then take all of our negatives, turn them around, make them heroic, pat ourselves on the back for the strength that prods weary feet, then we can say, still we do it.

It may be an ego trip and quite in vain.. but there is enough to be sad about and I for one, simpleton Mel would rather take this route.. take every thorn. whimper and die and then die again.. all for that superlative song...

( Suddenly I feel like a drama queen)

Distracted by too much happiness...

My blogs are normally dark, bordering on melancholy and sad. I have hitherto believed that I can write only when disturbed, but today, I want to celebrate the sheer joy of being alive, of being able to breathe without any aches and pains and for the blessing of contentment.
How joyful and exciting to be actually distracted by too much happiness.. Happiness of course being a relative term, I'd prefer to say contentment but this phrase is heavily borrowed, so I will keep it in the original.
Most times we dissect our sorrows and all that ails us, we are depressed at a loss be it of a physical nature or of our mental peace and dwell on the why.. why me, most importantly.
While content, we take it for granted. Almost as if we were born with it expressly stamped on our bottoms 'to be happy all the time'. I guess I'm talking much about me and the way I percieve things. Have been happy in my sadness for too long that I must have forgotten the merits of contentment.
For today, this moment, everything is alright in my world. My mind is chilled out, my body isn't groaning and peace reigns in me.

Happiness is a fleeting butterfly they say
Chase after it and you will find it's tough play
Give me then contentment I pray
A heart that no sadness can slay

And when despair does come knocking
Which, knowing me.. aint too shocking
Let me embrace the peace in sorrow
And cheerfully make it part of morrow

So will you please shut up...

Silence they say is a virtue, besides it being golden (blah!) and those who maintain a dignified silence reign supreme.
I was very smartly told yesterday that Abraham Lincoln said, "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt".

Hmmmn.. If one goes by inference alone, that would mean yours' truly has a runaway mouth and is a fool. And to be honest, I do! I have the classic Foot in the Mouth disease.

And it's getting worse, I can sense that. Motor mouth is going all a flashing, ablaze and bringing in its wake a trail of nonsense behind. I'm wondering now, is this is a disease? Is it genetic? Is it acquired? And most importantly, Is it curable?

God help me and all those I interact with if it aint.

Have decided, I will be a woman of few words from now - till when, I cannot promise, but will try. Will make a conscious effort to zip the gob. High time I guess, have noticed that Alder is turning out to be like his mater. Every time I go to his school, the teachers seem to know everything there is to know except the color of my underwear (phew!) well... I hope!

But seriously, I will measure, weigh and carefully construct my sentences henceforth...

And God Bless me and my grand scheme!

But you love me Daddy...

Just got off the phone with my parents. I talk to them about twice a week, Friday being my turn to call them.
No matter how old we grow or how far we live, our parents remain the ties that bind, the roots that hold and the relationships that make us.
It tugs at my heart strings when Dad says... aaa Meltaaa or sometimes... Meleeetaaa.
I'm a parent of 2 teenagers, but when I hear Dad's loving voice say Meltaa, I melt.
God grant me the strength to keep my parents with me when they need it most.
I call mum, Ammi or sometimes Mother India, just to hassle her. :D
It's so easy to get her goat.. N I'm horrid!! My children keep berating me at the way I talk to mum.
That woman though is the Wind Beneath my Wings. My greatest and biggest fan. She's the ONLY person in the world who I can say to as it occurs in my head without the edits.
The days spent with her, singing Jim Reeves songs, Carpenters, Abba, BoneyM are all magic. Her favorite songs, Send me the Pillow that you Dream on, Mother of Mine, Que Sera Sera, Tie a Yellow Ribbon round the Old Oak Tree, Knock Three Times are all my fav too now.
How wonderful it is to have the strength of these wonderful spirits.
We are in so many ways replicas of our parents temperaments and character. Though we may not like that too much.
I wish to imbibe the best of both of them and hope my children will one day say, 'Yeah she was kinda weird but cool'.
Amen.

Of hypersonic moods

And No, it's not a condom ad.

I'm wondering, what you call people whose moods change faster than you can say Geronimo..

It's fashionable to talk depth, quality over quantity, of knowledge and reasoning, character and endurance. Our mothers were most content to talk bout the new saree shop in town, the latest gossip on love marriages and divorce and the current price of onions (though mine would talk politics that bored everyone to death except an eccentric uncle) and about their immediate neighbors.( I likes!)

We women have come a long way since and it hasn't really been that long you know. Now its blase' to talk like a 'behenji' and so you will find the twenties, thrities and forties somethings talking Paolo Coelho, The Secret, Desperate Housewives, Sex in the City....(wannabe :P )
blah!

There is this stress that the modern, educated, real woman possess qualities that not only make her a playmate ( Hugh Hefner likes!) also someone who can play Scrabble decently and lose of course, but not too badly. She should be well groomed and definitely be able to make 'intelligent' conversation, not of the kandha batata variety.

Basically, the shift from traditional homemaker/welfare worker to modern woman with 'depth'.

Is it true that when you are deep and have an intelligent thought process that you are able to rally, fend, deflect and skillfully disassemble minor irritants that come your way... you see, because you are 'deep', you are above, beyond and elevated from the mundane, commonplace and unnecessary?

I guess I'm kandha batata variety.

When it isn't enough that you are a poet

I'm not good at tributes -

Am posting a poem that I love, that has touched me deeply.. a poem of genius.. for the heart that remained lonely... no matter what.
Of brilliance left to wane and of the many many stories yet untold, this is for FM.

This is FM.

I make sounds that are not my sounds,
gestures that are not my gestures,
speak words that are not my own.

Sometimes I pretend we are both
someone else, two someones with
more beauty and sweeter breath and
less story.

Mostly I must pretend he is someone
who sees me as me,
not as some fantasy he likes to
pretend I am,
just as I am pretending him;
pretending us.

I dont know; maybe this is
what I am, maybe this is the
man I love or am destined to
love. And maybe when I purr at
him that I love him, I am me,
and I am a loving woman, loving a
reflection of myself, loving myself.

At times I want to melt into me,
the me that is beyond this body
and this brain that thinks too
much, beyond this drowning and
this drama.

In this animal act we re enact
I can at times dissolve into a
pool of me, here and not here,
play acting that what I want is
this silly friction and pounding
when all I really want is
the bliss and the peace of me
reflected in the other who thinks
he loves someone who thinks she
is me.

I am old but not that old,
I am young but not that young
I guess I am as fragile and
innocent as a ravished child.

What do I want?
I want him to be the "the one",
but what is it that would make
him "the one" or "the one", him.
And why cannot our relationship be
infused with so much tenderness as
to be terribly, terribly serious, a
profound meditation and a repasting
all in one.

But I hold on to him and
sigh with relief, relax into shudders
of comfort at long last,
relax into the arms and of this
wanting for our relationship
to be deep, but its really just
about eating and copulating
like my latest career move or
which movie should we get
tomorrow night.

But how deep do I want my
relationship to get? I guess that would
depend on what deep relationship means
Do I have to know his pain
of youthful dreams destroyed or
deferred, his guilt?

Does he have to know
the vibrant vacillation of my confusion?
His memories, my inhibitions,
his stark existence, my approvals,

Do I have to know? Does he
have to bear it?

Why, oh why is a relationship to
me more significant, or more
desirable, or more adventurous,or less fun, or more intimate, or
more erotic than any other?

.........And why is erotic a bad word?

And so I learn.. everyday

It's amazing, life is really. Just when you think you may have seen it all, experienced it, risen with it, fallen and been beaten... life turns around to tell you that, 'you ain't learned anything yet'.

If I could rewind and return
repress and reassemble
re group and re align
I would....

The confidences
the laughter
the simple joy in being
the unaffected wonder...

People are just being themselves, the world rarely revolves around us does it. I would love to believe that we are so attuned to the people around us that we absorb energies, get rejuvenated by a warm spirit, bogged down by a troubled soul. Not as a philanthropic gesture or a self praising egoistic trip but rather as being true to what we really are, caring warm souls.

'Soul' - have been told that use the word so much that I should now say 'sole'.

Befitting really 'cos Sole is what this really is.

Sole is the wanderer
who seeks to play the role
Of that immense wonder
he believes is yonder

Lone and all alone
the path to atone
Acts of faith and trust
so easily gone to rust

What lies ahead is a false mirage
of broken cars in a rundown garage
Search in another for your own soul
And all you find that its but Sole