Who will stand tall when 'they come for me?'

My community is in crisis right now and I feel the pain. Students, parents and families are reeling under job losses on the one hand and the tumultous events of a long drawn out civil war on the other. One supports, one sticks up for the cause of humanity and one internalises the negative sentiments expressed by many at the inconvenience in their life due to some others who exercise their humanitarian right to be heard. We go about our days hanging on tight lest we say more than we are allowed to. After all, we are expected to speak only as much as we are allowed and no more. We have to wait in line, hat in hand for permission to ask for what is a given to many. As there is a saying in Hindi that my 11 year old son has understood for its true value and rhetoric: Tumhara khoon, khoon. Hamara khoon paani ( Your blood is blood, and my blood is water).

Do we need to exhibit tolerance at a time like this ( from my ivory tower, I tolerate you) or must we open our hearts?

Who will stand tall when 'they come for me?'

My kinda day

Just when the spirit begins to slump, along comes my kinda day. Since January with the new responsibilities at work and deadlines galore, I have been steadily pushing myself to meet them and my own high expectations of what I must do for my students and community. As always, in keeping the needs of others at the top of the list, my own fell by the wayside and I received a swift reminder about my neglect. Whoever had heard of simple coughs and colds turning into a raging case of bronchitis? And me, who until now, had breezed through childhood and three decades with not as much as a fever to mark the day. Well, several weeks of misery later the chest pains began which turned out to be a fractured rib ( how does one get that at 43 with no school yard or bar-room brawls is quite a mystery. )

I survived the good-natured ribbing by my students and children about ' safe schools' and 'stay out of trouble Ms. Karnad-Jani or there is a suspension waiting for you' etc. I made it through to May.

I needed to refresh my soul connections and to recharge my energy. So I stayed home, could not trudge off to work another day.

And it was my kinda day: rainy, green, grey and oh so Lonavala!! For a Mumbaikar in the sweltering humidity, the change to the green spaces of the Khandala Ghats ( look that up, lots to learn) is the benchmark. I sat on the backyard swing, spoke to Amma, and Kshitij. Dug in the garden, dislodged many bunches of forget-me-nots and re-located them. Landscaped the front garden and connected with what I loved best. Da kink in my hair reminded me of who I am as I had lunch with Jagjit Singh and Tum nahin, gham nahin sharaab nahin. The lilac tree with its windchime and the water dripping off the ferns, the birds silent until the sun peeped out coming to the birdbath for a splash and the peace.

The sun has come out now which means I have to find a cooler space. A good day and it is not even over yet.

The Universe conspired with me today.