ChirpyQuill

A friend of mine penned a beautiful article under the same name that I have chosen for mine. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I agree.   Her thoughts though were more likely in the literal sense, regarding the beauty and variety of the desert landscape and the unique lifeforms it nurtures. The same can be said about the Tundra or the Rainforest or a child or better still a woman. But my drift here is about life itself. Bear with me on that for a bit.  We are busy living, as a desert is being a desert. We are preoccupied with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or with small and big joys that we get to experience. Some of these flow through our senses, onwards to wherever taste of food goes after it’s been tasted, or love and kindness go after they have been felt. Other joys, which are more surreal, like seeing the kids grow and succeed or even a plant blossom and throw out buds and flowers, are experienced more holistically by our being.  These we enjo

It had to be late at night. It was muscle memory to do it then. Armed with ginger chai, a silent cry for help heavenward (Baba help!), and “online” copies of the Thesaurus and Wren & Martin this time, I sat down to write my speech. Who was I going to fling my laptop at? I chuckled wryly.   It is the strangest question, “Who are you?”. Just when I thought I had been asked all conceivable outlandish questions thus far. “Who am I?” What kind of an audacious question is that?   I started writing, “I am a mother,” and then, quite inexplicably, I couldn’t think of anything else. Cups of chai, and an hour later, the one line I wrote on the screen blinked back at me, mockingly. I had to be more, didn’t I? I picked up a photo of my dad and me that is always perched on a ledge in my kitchen. In that old sepia-tinted photograph, he is holding a snake with its hood raised in one hand and a 6-month-old me in the other, looking entirely fascinated by him.  In every sense, that photo fully captur

As a person of varied interests, this particular one has been a strong ally since I was first introduced to it by my father over 35 years ago, public speaking. After numerous competitive speaking engagements in high school and through college, I ostensibly hung up my proverbial mic in pursuit of other pastures. Arrows from my nascent stint as a public speaker proved immensely valuable in my quiver as I set out on my career right up until I was thrown into a role that required further honing those skills that had served me quite well until then. My father, or Baba as I called him, features heavily in this story, in all of them, really! He was this undeniable tour de force in my life. Tall, handsome, gregarious, and generous, inevitably commandeering every room he walked into. He spoke several languages fluently and had this insatiable appetite for books; he could quote Tolstoy with as much aplomb as he could recall entire excerpts from “Shriman Yogi” and “Swami.”   During one of our lat

It is harder to be still than to run and walk harder to be silent than to chatter and talk It is harder to to be here than to be someplace else harder to live in the now than in past and future worlds it is harder to taste a spoonful than to eat away a bowl harder to slow down some than to be always on the go it is harder to let go than to hold on to our fears harder to count our blessings than to lick our wounds and tears it’s hard to live a life  that’s aligned to our core hard to hold on to our convictions than letting them adrift and blown It’s harder to turn the gaze inwards than to see outside it’s hard to ask ourselves the questions that we have been asking others awhile it’s hard to reject the dogma that’s been handed down to us hard to change the ways we think in which we have been trained so well It’s hard to accept, it’s us not them that makes life better or worse it’s hard to not force our ways but align with the contours of the Universe it’s hard to stay invisible  yet lea

Decades after I first learned of them during a geography lesson at school, I had a chance to see the mighty saguaros in person in Arizona. There they stood, tall and undefeated, giving the literal “fuck you” to the world in that barren Sonoran Desert where nature had decreed not much would grow, let alone thrive and rule. The feeling of awe beggared description. This was my second visit to Arizona in as many years; this time, I went specifically to see my saguaros. I didn’t have my fill the first time; the desert was calling, and I needed to go. When a visitor goes to the Sonoran Desert in spring, one isn’t quite prepared to see the frenzy of life bursting out defiantly out of every crevice, every rock. It is almost as if everything capable of producing life wants to bloom wherever it is, utterly oblivious that it is splashing around this vibrancy of bright colors in an otherwise less-than-hospitable stark desert. They say in life, you always arrive where you need to be, not partic

  ਇਸ਼ਕ ਦਾ ਬਾਨਾ   ( Cloak of Love)   ਤੰਨ ਤੇ ਪਾ ਕੇ ਬਾਨਾ ਇਸ਼ਕ ਦਾ, ਦਿਲ ਹੋਇਆ ਜੋਗੀ ਮੇਰਾ , ਸਜਦੇ ਕੀਤੇ ਤੈਨੂੰ   ਖ਼ੁਦਾ ਮੰਨ ਕੇ ਤੇ ਮੇਰਾ ਕਾਬਾ ਹੋਇਆ ਦਰ ਤੇਰਾ. My heart became a hermit after wearing the cloak of love, I made you my God, prayed to you and your home became my mosque/temple.   ਲੱਭਦਾ ਫਿਰਾਂ ਵਜੂਦ ਆਪਣਾ , ਐਸਾ ਗਵਾਚਾ ਤੇਰਾ ਪਿਆਰ ਵਿਚ, ਫਰਕ ਨਾ ਦਿਸੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਕੋਈ, ਮੇਰਾ ਯਾਰ ਅੰਦਰ ਮੇਰੇ ਤੋਂ ਮੈਂ ਅੰਦਰ ਆਪਣੇ ਯਾਰ ਵਿਚ, Lost in your love, I roam around looking for my own being, my existence, I can’t tell a difference, I see my beloved in me and myself in my beloved     ਰੱਬ ਨੂੰ ਮੈਂ ਤਾਂ ਮੰਨਾ ਜੇ ਮਿਲਾਏ ਯਾਰ ਮੇਰਾ , ਮਿਟਾਵੈ ਜੁਦਾਈ , ਇਸ਼ਕ ਬਣਿਆ ਮਜ੍ਹਬ ਮੇਰਾ, ਕਾਫ਼ਿਰ ਹੋਇਆ ਮੈਂ ਛੱਡ ਕੇ ਖ਼ੁਦਾਈ. I will believe in God only if it brings my beloved to me, Love became my religion and I left God and became an Infidel   ਲੱਭੇ ਨਾ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਉਹ ਖੂ ਇਸ਼ਕ ਦਾ , ਜਿਸ ਦਾ ਪਾਣੀ ਮਿਟਾਵੈ ਦਿਲ ਦੀ ਤੇਹ ਮੇਰੀ, ਉਡਦੀ ਫਿਰੂ ਹਵਾਵਾਂ ਵਿਚ ਤਾਂ ਵੀ ਲੱਭ ਦੀ   ਤੈਨੂੰ, ਜਦ ਬੱਲ ਕੇ ਹੋ ਜੂ ਮਿੱਟੀ ਦੇਹ ਮੇਰੀ. Can’t find that well of love, which quenches the t

When I am gone and it’s all bones and dust, Throw my ashes on the mountains, that's where I should rest, I’ll melt with the snow and in the rivers I’ll flow, I’ll find you, they’ll take me there when winds will blow   With me, will come the story which I couldn’t tell, couldn’t write, Will also come a poem which I couldn’t complete, couldn’t recite, A restless heart, will find a home then, it must, When I am gone and it’s all bones and dust.   On the wings of eternity, like a free bird, I’ll fly, No boundaries, no limits, just wide open blue sky, Free from pain, a gleeful soul, riding the gust, When I am gone and it’s all bones and dust.

  A reckless mind tries to find the balance, looking for a chance, An aimless day, fights a battle to find the purpose, a chaotic dance, A battle between what’s real and reality, both drift far apart, And I lie here with an unhinged heart.   A will that wouldn’t give up and a feeling that refuses to die, Tied hands, chained feet, clipped wings; want to rise above and fly high, Break it all, break it all, yells the mind. once again, let’s start, And I lie here with an unhinged heart. One moment it’s all noise and another moment, so quiet, One moment a tired soul and another moment ready to fight, Let go, let go, free yourself from what was your past, And I lie here with an unhinged heart.

  The clock keeps reaching for the hour, and loses it in a second; I lie in unrest Hours turn into minutes turn into seconds; I lie in unrest The waves come close to the shore and they fizzle; I lie in unrest That elusive hour, that elusive wave; like a past unfulfilled; I lie in unrest  The walls stand solid; the books stand stacked The naked branches on trees; seem firmly attached; I lie in unrest  The continuum continues offering the hope of time; I lie in unrest  Moments remembered, some take my breath away. They are beautiful Tasks numbered, some engage the mind. They are bountiful; I lie in unrest  The stone takes on a patina; life takes on a skill; the ways of the world find their insidious ways; I lie in unrest  The mountain air wafts past me in my imagination, a longing deeply felt; I lie in unrest Like a swan floating peacefully …; I lie in unrest 

  Table for four   It was a rainy December evening in Napa, as we pulled into a small parking lot of “French Laundry”, the only three Michelin star restaurant in the entire country. Every foodie’s dream is to score a table at this esteemed restaurant run by the famous Thomas Keller. So, we were naturally very excited at the opportunity of dining at this place especially since we were able to score a last minute reservation at this most coveted restaurant, a table for four! Let me go around the table to introduce everyone. We come from the same hometown in south India, Shimoga and all four of us attended a girls high school run by nuns in the same town. But what’s interesting is I barely knew two of them until about ten years ago whereas I have always been besties with the third person in the group. We all now live in different parts of America and the single most thing that has brought us close is the trips we take together every year! Another profound thing that connects us is the lan