To the little girl within me

Dear little girl,
Can you hear my voice?
I know you are hiding somewhere deep down there..
busy, rapidly building walls around you
almost with zeal of a spider spinning a web
or a caterpillar turning into a cocoon.

Dont get startled,dont be scared..
It is me, I am part of you, I am you and you are essence of mine
I am not hear to tell you
you have been unreasonable, I am just here to be by your side.

Will you try to stretch out your little palm
so that I can hold it and enter your little cave?
do you think we could just hug each other
living no space of inch between us?

Let the darkness engulf us both
let us be one with the darkness
should we try and cry together
May be that will help ease our pain...

No, no, you are definitely not abandoned
I promise that will never happen
Even if the whole world walks away from you
including those who tell you that they love you..
I will be there rock solid by your side.

To be honest,  i am not sure if I am
any better in handling the pain and
all these newly experienced emotions and feelings
but if we put our two little weak and vulnerable hearts together
I think we will find our way...

Little girl, I so understand your pain
I hear your heart beating like a drum
you struggling to breath
and you trying hard to control your tears

Little one, I must tell you...
I love you dearly for just who you are
all your imperfections and vulnerabilities
all those fears and faults

I love your passion with which
you wall your pain off from the outside world
I love your passion with which
you try and reach out to everyone that needs love

I love your passion to face your fears
I love your passion to try and feel the love
This has not been an easy journey and
it wont be one.. but darling..

You are not alone
I am always going to walk by your side
I am not the strongest or wisest soul around
but i know together we can survive.

I never want you to loose that vulnerable side in you.
I never want you to become a robotic machine
working on autopilot without caring for emotions of others
in the name of living for yourself and living at a choice.

There open the flood gates and I hear your sob
I hold you in my arms..
You are safe, you are my angel, my darling little pearl
You are everything I can only dream to be
and even more so with these  sobs and tears.

Cry my darling girl, it is just fine to cry
You are crying for yourself
to release your pain, hurt, sorrow and discomfort
and dont let anyone tell you that you are wrong in doing that..

why are you hiding away any ways?
who are you scared of?
why these wall construction all over again?
when you have been working so hard to bring them down...

You survived most difficult times
by successfully walling yourself off
you managed to swallow your pain, trauma and anger
along with your cries for help and reasons to smile..

But darling, I know there is another side in you
that is waiting to be given a release
let that anger out, let it go
you have reasons to be mad

You have hurt yourself long enough
by internalizing all the pain and grief, fear and anger,
Is there a reason why you are afraid to let it out?
who or what are you trying to protect?

It is that anger that drives you in life
It is the anger that protects you from harm
Anger is as much part of life
as is love, joy, happiness and sky..

Yes I know you are doubting yourself
and doubting world around you..
You are unsure of the path you have chosen
and you really want to surrender and give up on life..

you lost your sense of pride, confidence
along with your sleep and everyday life..
You wonder if you are capable of
taking even a step ahead on this path..

It might seem easy to give up
to accept that you are not meant for this way of life
that you doesn't deserve love or joy
and it is better to live a life that you have lived up till now.

Yes you can chose to do so if you feel
that is what is best for you at the moment
you know for sure what is best for you
and I will be there with you in every choice that you make.

Sweetheart it is also perfectly ok to feel miserable, hurt,
humiliated, lost, disappointed, and weak.
Let even those emotions sink in every cell of your body
and see how deep can it percolate down your spine.

You have right to cry as much as you need
till it helps you feel lighter and ready to smile
It is ok to doubt yourself and the world around
as long as you respect yourself and dont give up on hope and life.

You are afraid that you will not
be able to express yourself any more
may be that is true since you suffered a big blow..
but hey, there is no harm in giving it a try

I firmly believe in your innate beauty, strength and femininity
your golden heart and empathetic soul.
just try and be empathetic to yourself
so that your wounds can heal and you can smile.

There is more to life than just this event
you know it better than anyone else
dont give up on life and on yourself
just because someone else failed you hard..

be yourself, take pride in who you are
stand strong, head held high and
tell yourself.. you are a beautiful soul and
you will live 'love' all your life...

I love you my little girl
I truly do..
I just wish I would have been more proactive
on helping you believe in that...

Pain of growing and growing in pain...

Observe, listen, feel and palpate
They taught me in Medical School
These senses it seems held the key
to countless symptoms, pain and loops.

I wish I could do the same with my feelings
just the way I could often put the finger on those tender spots
The body and soul beneath my finger
often responded .. yes , that is exactly where it hurts..

I am hurting somewhere deep down..
don't know precisely where and why
why such a vague unease and discomfort
which starts in my stomach and spreads across

I wish I could locate the seat of this sensation
to listen to the sound it makes
to observe its colour and borders
and palpate its shape and depth..

Does it feel like corrugated mass of tissue
or unruly cauliflower like tumor cells
May be it is the matted bunch of lymph nodes
or just a solid heap of pain...

How do I diagnose its origins and cause
if nothing about it is felt and perceived
how do I find a cure for it
when it seems to be part of my very being

Do I have to live with it
or there is a way to untangle these delicate knots
how do I urge the healthy tissue
to take over the natural healing path...

Wonder if this mass has a colour,
what shades will I see?
If it emits its own smell..
what quality will that be?

sometimes I feel the urge to let it out
to explode so strong
that it will destroy everything
tumour and the life tagged along

but then I hold back..
hanging on to it..
turning it inwards and absorbing it in..
till the point of no return

may be that way
I shall turn into a solid mass
so heavy , so dense, so dark
that nothing can emerge out of that path..

That is how black holes are formed
engulfing and taking in everything
nothing can escape that force
even the brightness and light stand no chance..

The other option is to
explode with a big bang..
and start expanding at massive speed
engulfing everything that crosses my path
finally claiming my true space and need..

I know myself very well
I know I am not the exploding type..
I rather coil and coil deep down..
engulfing the  sorrow and pain ...

But that is where my mystery lies
only for those few careful eyes
Even my eyes do not always notice it
but do the laws of density and mass

There will be a moment when I cant condense any further
there will be a moment when I have to re bounce
Nothing can hinder that process even not me..
and a new star is born

The process is often long and unpredictable
but history of light year stands of its proof
the beauty of it is this sense of unknown
which tips the balance of its scale..

new life flows through my veins
new leaves burst all over me..
birds build nests in my arms and branches
and marks a journey of my life again...

Sometimes it feels as if
this miracle is around the corner
and that makes it worth the pain..
the pain of 'growing', the pain of discomfort
the pain of being off the balance, the pain of doubting my self...

No pains so no gains..
did they not tell you that?
the question I have is
how much pain is worth the effort and especially for which gains...

The wounded storm....

Some wounds are deceptive.
Never know how deep they are.
Are they rounded and soft?
Or uneven in their depth and reach?

Also don't go on their size.
Small can be quite malignant.
and large ones easy to deal.
Just accept each one as it is
and hope that each will eventually heal.

For the longest time
you wont even know you are wounded.
But that is not such a big deal..
what is more unsettling is
when apparently healed one starts to bleed.

The pain which never existed
comes down haunting at you.
you wonder what triggered it
what mistake did you do...

It is like a storm
that builds quite silently..
it grows larger and larger
till it finds its release..

This morning I felt quite strong and sunny..
and thought I was ready to bloom.
But life looks different now..
just like the storm in the air with all its gloom..

I know I cant be what I once dreamt for..
but is that the end of joy...
I wont let it be the end of joy...
the question remains..
why this, why now?

The fire and the snow

They told me fire purifies it all
from within and far beyond..
I believed them and I believed in fire..
and I kept burning all along.

I wore the flames deep blue in colour
I draped them all around
making sure no one will come any closer
and I could be safe on my ground..

It hurt, and it burnt..
but I hardly cared..
I was safe and I was fine
my heart felt spared...

I wont call it purification
but it burnt a lot of me..
It evaporated my tears and
wiped out my screams..

I thought this is what the life is..
and I kept living
hardly in connection with my self
or my emotional being...

I walked a long path..
searching for a safe home..
cooler and far from fire..
where I could feel at home..

As I walk down this path..
snow comes down over me..
slowly cooling me down
like lava merging into the sea...

I fume and I crackle
I cry and I heave..
I shine and I explode
before I manage to grieve..

The snow is over the trees
the snow is all around..
I rest myself finally in peace..
on this snow covered ground..

On my right I see crocuses
Below me are the snow bells
The bugs and the worms around me
along with tiny little snails..

They hold me, they love me
They whisper in my ear..
rest well my darling angel..
there is no reason to fear...

Look deep within yourself..
make peace with the self
hold on to life while you are here
till you emerge from your shell..

You will know when is your time..
you will know when you can grow..
you hold the future within you...
protected under this blanket of snow..

This is not the end of the story..
this is just a tiny little scar..
gather yourself and gather your might...
to reach out to the stars..

You are not the snow white
nor are you a frog..
you are more than what you believe..
don't make yourself so small..


rest well my darling angel..
there is no reason to fear...
Sleep well my darling angel
new day is very near....

The sun, the rain, the snow and the snowbells

This is how I would describe my day today...

After inducing an emotional storm last night at home, at some point in time, I fell deep asleep... only to wake up to clear blue sky this morning.... I felt incredibly light, hopeful and upbeat... there was no trace of tears from the night before... the sun was shining bright... and without looking at the weather forecast, I got ready for work, dressed quite lightly... and even decided to put on my new red leather boots.... that I bought last week...

With music in my ears... I walked out of my apartment... casually dressed, basking in the sun like a butterfly.. I was happy... within five minutes, I realized the weather had taken a major turn...the strong wind pushed me forward.. the sky grew dark and rain started pounding.... I was soaked from head to toe, the glasses covered with raindrops, my hair looked like a wet crow.... I was worried about my new boots... these days I am wearing new things right away, instead of keeping them in cupboard for a year before using them.. and then it had to rain... I was just wishing for rain yesterday.. because it is easier for me to cry in the rain... the rain came down.. but no tears... instead, I had a silly smile on my face.. I really love soaking up the sun... however cold that may be.... so I walked to the office enjoying rain... humming to myself, jumping in the puddles and splashing water around wherever I could making sure that no one was at the receiving end of my water splashes.... by the time i reached office, I looked like a clown, hilarious.... my colleagues started laughing at me... and few even warned me.. against catching flue again....

I have a new office, with a big window.. overlooking the library... as I organized my new office, I kept observing the rain, at some point there was sun and the rain at the same time... I started looking for rainbow.. but there was none... I love rainbows... I can go insane with joy at the sight of rainbow... and I like Basel as I often get to see rainbows here....

by 4pm, weather took yet another turn... it started snowing.. the snow flakes of size of feathers... my colleague told me about a German fairy tale... it says that snow flakes come down when some lady in the sky is brushing and dusting her feather blankets... hahhaha I like that idea... I was trying to visualize this big blanket filled with snow feathers in the sky... I wanted to catch some lakes in my palms... and keep them safe.. snowflakes.... I love snowflakes... I spent quite some time watching the snowflakes.... dearly missing Nuria and her imagination of army of white bugs attacking the earth.... I want to see colourful snow fakes.. is that even possible? If I could colour the snow flakes.. what colour will I splash on them... sky blue, light pink, deep purple, olive green, lemon yellow... I dont even mind a mix of different colours in my snow flakes... hmmm that will be a pretty sight.... at some point, I could no longer sit in my office... and decided to walk home in heavy snow... literally playing with the snow flakes, tossing them around, catching them in my palms, releasing them gently, talking to them, making fun of them, swirling my arms around.....I love to catch snow flakes on the tip of my nose... it is a fun thing to do.. I just have to make sure that I don't bump into a car, or a human being or a lamp post while attempting that task.....

Snow makes me happy.... If a snow flake could talk to me, what stories will it tell me? I was walking on the street lost in my own thoughts.. and walked past the area where last week, I was elated to see snow bells blooming... snow bells are my favourite flowers.. tiny, angel like and symbols of hope.... my snow bells are already dying.... I suddenly felt sad....they came to the surface way ahead of time.. were they too curious to see the world above the ground... but that was not worth the effort.... anything that happens prematurely is probably dangerous in its own ways...a surgery professor of mine had warned me ten years ago... to slow down.. or he said, i will have to retire at 35.... I wont retire at 35.. but it seems parts of my body took that warning too seriously.. and decided to opt for early retirement.... can I turn back time? Is there an undo button to our body functions? why was I in such a rush to become a 'Gray lotus'? and now that I have become one, I realize, I was in too much of a rush..just like my snow bells....  I should have taken my time....I should have enjoyed being a child when  I was a child and I should have celebrated myself for being a woman when I was a woman.... I have made a mistake... and in the process have lost something meaningful.. but there is still a lot out there to explore and experience about my womanhood, about my femininity, my sensuality and sexuality... and I wont give up on that so easily.. I will definitely not loose hope on myself so easily....I will not cease to live, to laugh, to love, to thrive, to fly so quickly.... rather this experience makes me determined to live life each day like never before.. to dream, to feel, to express, to enjoy, to dance, to learn, to sing and to just be... a vital loving and living force of life.... Carpe Diem.. that is my new mantra for life....

Cry Priya Cry...

Crying is cathartic!!!

Only words she wrote in bold letters....

I exactly know what she is trying to tell me and I trust her.. but I simply cant cry....

At this moment, I really want to cry, I need to cry... I am choking and exploding inside.. but I cant cry...

There are moments when I feel I am going to burst into tears.. almost like the sensation one gets just before sneezing... but then I fail.... something shuts my tears closed... My most successful attempt this morning was while walking to office.. on an empty street... when no one was around.. I could cry.... I could let my tears flow... it was triggered by an email from a girl friend of mine...but as I approached the office, tears disappeared as quickly as they started streaming down in first place.. and my iron mask was back on my face....

I went about my day as if nothing has happened.. almost mechanically... managed to be as social with my colleagues as I could... any ways I am not known to be a very social person at work ...afternoon I had to pack the kitchen.... since we are moving the office... dishes and glasses, bowls and cups, sugar and tea... spoons and forks.. mechanical work, pull things out, wrap them in paper, arrange them in big cartons and label the boxes.. I kept working almost mechanically... lost in my own thoughts... figuring out missing pieces of my story, where did it start? When did it begin? Why it happened?

I am not a survivor of childhood cancer, I don't have a family history, I do not smoke, I am not aware of being exposed to heavy radiation, except whatever we had in the hospital... why me? Big question, which will never get answered... I am just one of those less than 1% of women below 40 years of age... I am just part of the statistics... but then I am also likely to be part of other statistics.. for example, now I have significantly increased chance of premature death... one medical paper informed me this morning... hmmm how do I feel about that? what does it mean by premature death? Must be based on aggregate.. but which populations aggregate... and do I fit in that reference population.... Why is it disturbing me? Why is it shaking me up?

Am I not fascinated by death? Just like I am fascinated by old age... did I not want to be a Gray lotus as quickly as I could... then why am I shivering now with fear, uncertainty, sense of loss... given that my wish is partially fulfilled... they always say think what you are wishing for.... your wishes are quite powerful.. I know that is true.. it seems like I have managed to shut down the production of hormones, with my strong wish to be old... not just one but a whole system of hormones, starting from my hypothalamus and pituitary gland in the brain all the way down to my ovaries.... sometimes it is documented that strong emotional blow can knock down the hormonal system.... was that the reason in my case... I took a careful look at my cycle records... 2010.... that is when the problems began... in my life and within my body... the records in my excel sheet beautifully correlate with my emotional state at that moment... the intervals became longer, gradually, the days became shorter... and body started manifesting other symptoms... My first consultation with a doctor was within 3 months of observing the disturbance.... but I was told, I am thinking too much and stress can cause these changes, especially the stress of uprooting myself from one culture and trying to build a life in a new culture... 40% of women with this situation never got investigated early on... they have often visited 3 or more doctors before someone finally prescribes detailed investigation.... it took me 3 years and four doctors to be finally worked up in details... I have fitted perfectly in yet another statistic... I dropped a cup.... I must have momentarily lost my focus... the white cup broke into many tiny pieces.... my colleagues came asking...'what did you break?'... I wanted to answer... ' i am broken, at least temporarily...' but I did not....

Coming back to tears.... I have hard time to cry.... I should clarify... I can be easily moved to tears... I can cry for a bird, a flower, a little dog, a touching movie, or a book, a fabulous meal, any emotional situation, pain and suffering of anyone around me... loss and sorrow of people that I may or may not know... the events that have unfolded miles away from me can break me down into tears... but I cant cry for myself.. for my own sake.... I find it too egoistic, too self-absorbed .. I am convinced that my suffering,  my pain, my sorrow, my loss is insignificant and not a deal at all as compared to all that people around me are going through... total rejection... and anger towards myself for feeling sad... for needing attention, craving for love and support... I should be strong... no matter what.. but why.... why cant I be weak and vulnerable.... why do I need to be in control all the time... why am I so scared to ask for attention.. crying gets you attention.... I don't want my loved ones to see my pain... I don't want to affect them... I don't want to be a burden on anyone... so I chose not to cry.... to try and be strong.. and often.... I can even say always... I have managed to project this 'stupid and irrelevant and destructive' strength of mine... and determination to the outside world when deep inside I was weaker than the drying leaf on autumn tree.. needed just one little pull and I had a free fall .. hardly anyone could suspect that I am falling apart deep within me... to the extreme that even when I was vocalizing my need for support, people around me could not believe it and these were not just any people, these were people who had known me for the longest time... they were so sure that I will be fine... I am too strong to fall apart they said... but that was not the case.. I fell apart completely... to pieces.. that could hardly be put together again...

Have I not learned my lesson? It took me years to deal with that break down... may be that lonely battle to stay afloat 3 years ago has caused this 'pause' in my life... and still I am struggling to express my emotions... to feel my pain, loss... to cry... why do I still try and argue with myself that my suffering is not a suffering at all... I have no right to feel pain or loss... I have invited this on myself so I should not cry... I am being a sympathy seeker if I ask for help, attention, love and support.... where does all this self talk and self criticism come from? What can I do to silence this 'cruel' voice within me.... how do I cry.... bravely, openly, without inhibitions, without fear... I want to cry for myself... I need to cry for my own well-being... I need to learn to cry... rather than swallowing my pain and tears.. I don't want to wait for another heavy rain... because it is easy for me to cry in the rain... where my tears can be just perceived as raindrops drenching me from the head to toe... why am I so ashamed of my tears...

Julia, I know tears are cathartic... what I don't know is how to induce that catharsis....

Agnes

I met Agnes last evening.. quite by chance... The day had turned out so beautifully.. that this evening plan felt like a icing on a cake.. and then Agnes has to be the cherry on that icing..

Agnes is a character from animation film 'Despicable me'..She is about 4 years old, the youngest of three girls... big brown eyes and long straight black hair, she is amazingly funny and at the same time hungry for love... she with her book of bed time story literally stole my heart... and she made me laugh and cry at the same time... watching her on the screen for about 2 hours brought the deepest pain to the surface but she also made me laugh and inspired me to continue writing... I am glad that I was light-headed last night.. or I would have surely cried... and I dont like to cry...

Agnes confronted me in more than one ways... especially at this point in time when I am at difficult crossroads in life... Agnes reminded me of my little notebook... that I started preparing in the Netherlands about 2 years ago... a little notebook for my 'imaginary' daughter (Janneke)... introducing her to Dutch life... among the ponies and horses, the canals, the dykes, the tulips, stroop waffles and pancakes...at that  point, I thought I would stay in the Netherlands and probably my daughter will be raised there. Janneke is a famous character from series of Dutch Children story books, Jip and Janneke...  The notebook is still sitting in my carton of books in the Netherlands... but yesterday watching Agnes brought back memories of Janneke and all the associated dreams seen with open eyes... almost naively... my troubles had already started while I was visualizing this darling daughter of mine...Agnes made me ache for a daughter...

I always wanted to raise a daughter.. why, I cant give precise answers... or reasons.. but I truly wanted to raise a daughter into a strong woman, the one who believes in herself, who sees her own beauty, who speaks up, who stands up for herself, who is strong but yet gentle and tender, who is amazingly loving but also knows not to forget herself while loving others... who can laugh and who can cry, who is not afraid of dreaming, who is not scared by any challenges.. who knows what she wants and who dares to take a stand even if that choice turns her world upside down....

May be, this is the kind of woman I myself wanted to become, i still hope to become...was I just projecting my own aspirations for myself on this daughter of mine? Did I want to experience a transformation in me while I provided this little girl an environment to grow into an extraordinary woman? I have been strong opponent of sex selection all my life.... but in my personal life, I always rooted for, hoped for, dreamt about a daughter... I guess that is also a sex selection of some sort.. but the underlying motivations are strikingly different.

Meeting Agnes last evening was special.. because till then I had thought, I was fine.. I had accepted the diagnosis... I was going to make sure that I make informed choices of my medical treatment... I really thought I had put handle on the situation... but nope... I had not... I was confronted, I was deeply sad, I was angry and I felt immense sense of loss..I was really angry at myself for investing myself emotionally so much in this unborn daughter of mine... 'if you have never tasted a chocolate, you dont feel sad not to have one'... Why did I dream so big? and if the dream was so important.. what was I waiting for till this age... did I think, the nature was going to manifest my dream even when I neglected its own pace and logic?

While training counsellors for HIV and STIs... we often discussed phases a person goes through when confronted with a diagnosis that was not expected.. anger, denial, disbelief, 'why me?', helplessness, sadness, fear of the future, fear of death, concerns about family, and eventually acceptance and making appropriate choices.... the process is never cyclic or linear and the stages don't necessarily follow the same order.. a person might even go through the same phase number of times...

now I have to observe my own emotional spectrum for these stages... for my deep emotions, the one that I am good at hiding, the pain, the tears, the sense of loss... there will be days filled with unlimited potentials, hopes, dreams and choices and there will be days when I wont be able to explain my blue state of mind... and both are equally true description of my emotional state... how do I accept both? How do I love myself with both? How do I believe that I will transition through this challenge as well... what do I learn through the process... I cry as I write this and hot flash engulfs my body... can it not evaporate my tears so that they dont leave a visible mark?

That is when I am going to make Agnes my inspiration....a reminder not to loose hope, to love and to laugh and to be crazy about her Unicorn, the one that she feels is so soft that she would die...  I see so many facets of Agnes in myself... will she hold my hand as I walk this path ahead of me... will she make me laugh when I am lost and defeated... will she ask me to read her a bed time story? I would love to do that... a bed time story... I would do it a thousand times.. to all the agneses around the world... to all the kids around the globe who love bed time stories... just as much as I do...

Agnes, I promise I wont give up on writing for you or Janneke or Zoe or Anoushka... I shall write even more... that way I can still connect with my daughter and daughters around the world.... I love you girl and I always will....that is my pinky promise.... :-)

Down the memory lane

I wish I had enjoyed my childhood better.. dont know why I was in such a rush to grow up.... I guess, I still am.. but hopefully I wont grow up faster than is needed... in fact sometimes I behave worse than a child.... these days... lost in the process of normal growing, I guess...

When I look back at my childhood, I do remember how excited my parents were, me being their first child.. and their beloved daughter... my birth was actually celebrated in more than one ways in-spite of slight frown on faces of my extended family members... for my parents, it was an opportunity to change the system in their own ways .. my mom was never loved because she was 2nd daughter and her mother died soon after due to pregnancy related complications.. For my mother, it was important to break that viscous cycle... and my father supported her unconditionally.. I was the one who benefited the most, their precious daughter. Even the name they gave me means 'beloved', I was brought up to challenge every norm, to break every rule, to question the system...

I wonder why I started thinking about my upbringing and my childhood today... may be because I have been going through hundreds of family pictures, many are damaged now, thanks to seeping walls and moisture inside... I wish I would have scanned those pictures early on.. I was quite the focus of number of those pictures, more so than my younger brother.. he hated being photographed.... I went through a pictorial journey of our life, snapshots at various moments, lot of memories came gushing by... and so did the tears...

I had a lot of dolls as a child, but as I entered teens, my mother started giving away my dolls and toys to other children, who could not afford to own a toy.. I don't think I resisted at that age.. but by the time I turned 15, I started feeling the loss.. I had no memories of my childhood left, memories that could be touched, cuddled, hugged, smelled.. It was my 15th birthday that I started buying dolls again... she was a real size doll, she still is. Her name is Josephine, Jo... I saw hundreds of her pictures this evening, she was integral part of my adolescence... she was named after my favorite character from a Novel, 'little woman'.. Josephine  Jo.. pale skinned, blue eyed with golden hair... I never had friends so Jo became my confidant..

few years later, I left home but Jo stayed on.. giving company to my mom... she is now a young girl, 18 years old.... Mumbai is hot, dusty and humid, perfect weather to destroy everything beautiful.. same happened with Jo, she requires more frequent washing and bathing . and my mom took care of her along with 30 odd other dolls of mine that I collected over years... In this trip, though, I was strictly told to give away all my dolls or to take them to Basel with me...it sounded like a death sentence... but I know that my mom is serious.. what I am not sure is what I want to do... give these guys away... or take them with me.. but how? what about luggage restriction? Is it worth the effort? But can we really evaluate the emotional significance of things and memories? I cant throw away anything.. I get attached to even a tiny piece of paper, an envelop, an old box, a little note, dried flowers and so on.. there is no way I can let go of my toys.. and dolls.. they mean a world to me... each one of them has a story and each one of them has a name and a personality of their own... they are my family... even my old worn out Dutch bike Sally is my family... I cant put her to rest... She is still waiting for me in Groningen... someday we will reunite..

Blanquito, came from Bangladesh, his soft, snow white fur tickled me to death.. he is one naughty boy.. he had a friend, a little mouse in my student apartment in Dhaka... the mouse ate my books but did not touch Blanquito... and then I had a little frog.. it was Ramiro's frog.. I just saw some of his pictures a while ago... Blanquito came into my life through Ramiro... who also gave him this Spanish name... Ramiro left long ago but Blanquito stayed on... Later we had another huge wild bear... golden brown, soft and furry.. Caffecito..... gentle, loving, well behaved, nerdy boy... who is absolutely boring in traditional sense.. but he is my sweetheart... His name came from my favorite book, 'Caffecito story'... by Julia Alvarez... Blanquito and Caffecito became soul mates, in many ways just like me and my brother only the characters got reversed... Blanquito dropped out of school at age of 4 and Caffecito went to Cambridge at an extreme young age...

Then came Mogli... the yellow bear... I was training a group pf counselors in Chennai.. it was intensive one week training, quite tiring and emotionally exhausting... Somehow some one in my participants, learned about my fascination for soft toys... on the last day of the training... they brought Mogli to me.. as a token of their gratitude... I was overwhelmed.. Mogli radiates that empathy, all the while.. key character of a good counselor.

Charlotte came into my life quite unplanned.. I was walking through a crowded market in Delhi, and this girl just looked at me... and I knew I had to bring her home... She was the biggest... and I remember flying home from Delhi with this big doll in my hand... the regular crew of the flight thought that it was a present for my daughter.. I smiled and said, it is a present for myself.... My niece had major crush on Charlotte... at some point, this girl cried so hard that I gave her my Charlotte... I cried too but silently...

and then there are Elmo, and Earny and Manchu and Pingoo... and Emily and Anouk.... at some point, I lost track of them... there is a tiny doll, my precious little baby... her name is Anamika, which literally means the one with no name... she is really special... she came to me in Pondicherry.. I was working with local women's group after Tsunami that hit in 2004... east cost of India was badly hit.. most fishermen had died leaving behind women... the loss of life, property was so immense that these women could barely cry.. they were choked.. could not really cope with the situation... one of the counselor in the group one day decided to try something new... she brought some small pieces of cloth, local materials, colored pens and paper.. Group of women sat around in circle... lost, disconnected from the self and the life around.. they stared blankly at the huge expanse of the ocean.... and at some point, one of them came forward.. she picked up a few things and started fiddling with it... soon she picked up a bright purple piece of cloth with golden border, typical cloth that women in south India wear... and Anamika was born... a tiny doll, size of smallest finger.. but clad in bright cloth. The woman held this tiny doll to her chest and broke into tears... that was the moment we were eagerly waiting for.... soon Anamilka became symbol of new life, new hope... these women made thousands and thousands of these tiny dolls.. it ignited their imagination and creativity, it gave them a sense of well being, they started taking active interest in making these dolls... they asked for more fabric and other supplies... we had finally broken the ice.. thanks to Anamika.. I have one with me.. who reminds me of that extraordinary moment of her birth... birth of life, birth of hope, birth of wanting to live on... 

In pursuit of functional teeth

On my flight to Mumbai, I watched a movie , Camille redouble, a French comedy. A woman gets a chance to recreate her life, rather a chance to make decisions from her past all over again.. will she chose the same path? Or she would go for things that are drastically different....

This morning, while being seated in a dentist's chair, I suddenly remembered this movie and its central theme... If I get a second chance at life like Camille, I will chose a path which will ensure a set of healthy functional teeth...

If one thing I ever took too casually in life, it has to be my dental health. I just did not realize what was at stake there and how I am going to pay through the nose to restore teeth in future. All my life I have been fond of eating but forgot that I need good teeth to enjoy food. I have never investigated the causes of poor teeth in my family, yes it runs in the family and I guess I am the one who is least affected.. but as I describe what being least affected means, you will understand the fate of others in my family...

I have pretty white teeth. I often get compliments for their whiteness, and that is natural. This definitely has not been enhanced or engineered. I cant smile without displaying my teeth. But what gets displayed is only a part, not a complete truth. It is not easy to believe the tragic story of my teeth but trust me it is tragic. What you see is not always what it is.. and that's what I know for sure when it comes to my teeth.

I always had carries as a child. My mom blames it on my obsession for chocolate and reluctance to brush my teeth. I blame it on faulty genes. My permanent teeth were affected by carries too and by the age of 14, five of my permanent molars were extracted by my former dentist. For those who do not know what molars are, these are the big teeth that you need for grinding and biting hard food, they also give support to your face structure.I can now say that this was the worse medical or dental decision I could have made in those days.. but what did 14 year old know? I really wish my dentist would have made me see the consequences of those actions.. but he did not. Root canal treatment could have saved all of those teeth, technology had become available in India by then. But as a family, we could not afford the cost and nor did we have time to undergo long root canal treatment for 5 of my molars. Extracting teeth was an easy and cheaper option... and that is what we chose without much deliberation... those of us in ethics, who always talk about patient's autonomy, here is an example how patients make choices... not what is the best but what is affordable..

So more or less for 20 years now, I am like an older person who has lost teeth when it comes to eating well, chewing well. I have acquired a preference for soft food. Give me an apple to eat and I cry, it takes me ages to chew and eat an whole apple simply because I don't have the required teeth in my jaw. Bananas, mangoes  berries, papayas and melons, all soft, pulpy fruits became my favorites not because I don't like the others but because these are easy to chew... I cant eat anything that requires active chewing with molars.. I bite and chew with my front teeth.... which are not meant for that.. watch me eat a carrot and I actually look like a bunny because I am using my front, white teeth to chew carrot... if you have not realized it yet, digestion and absorption of food gets affected if you don't chew it well and I have experienced this effect over years now...

When I entered medical school, I decided to seek help for fixing my teeth. I went to a teaching dental school, because that is where treatment is often for free, it takes a long time but young doctors in training get to learn a lot from cases like me. I was myself a doctor in training.. so I know what such patients mean to us.. I was ashamed of my empty jaws. It took tremendous courage to walk into one of those out patient clinics. I knew what was going to happen but I had clearly underestimated it. The professor looked into my mouth, positioned the over head light and ordered a huge class of dental students to take a look... he actually said, 'this is a museum piece. You wont find many cases of permanent damage like this..at least in today's world. Take a good look and tell me all the wrong decisions that have been made here and all the impacts this young woman is going to face in her future'... I shrank into myself, I wish I could disappear.. I was surrounded by crowd of dentists, those words had already killed me and had painted bleak future for me... everyone peeped into my mouth one by one... I had tears rolling down my cheeks but no one noticed... my open jaw started hurting by holding that position for so long... the discussion started and I knew I was in deep trouble and there was very little that can now be done to restore my lost teeth. This experience took away my courage to ever seek help again at least in a public health care system. Most importantly it taught me how to treat my patients with respect and dignity. I lived with utter shame from that day on... with the teeth, I also lost my dignity and pride in a way...

A close friend of mine who also happens to be a dentist, referred me to his own professor of dentistry who has his private clinic. This friend knew about my trauma of seeing a dentist.. he assured me that this professor is different and i wont go through any humiliation and I can trust his advice. He actually went with me for the first consultation. I was shivering with fear... did not know what to expect. The face of the professor grew serious. He made X Rays, took molds  carefully listened to my history. He was such an empathetic listener.. at ones I felt at ease in his hands.. He explained to me in clear and simple words what has happened.. it was about 10 years after the damage had been done. He suggested a removable denture. There were two clear reasons, to improve my chewing capacity, my lower jaw bone was already loosing its structure and most important was to ensure that the molars from the upper jaw don't overerrupt, thus compromising interlocking of teeth in upper and lower jaw. I understood everything and consented for the procedure.. I had artificial denture at the age of 23.. no wonder I feel like old woman all the time.. but this removable bridge seriously affected my speech... I am a public speaker and I love to speak.. I talk all the time and my job required me to talk and to train... I could not dare to open my mouth and speak with that dental bridge... I truly sounded weird and I felt weird.. talking, the activity that I loved the most, felt like pain... my dentist encouraged me to continue using it with hope that eventually I will regain my clarity of speech... but I was not patient enough... and I preferred good speech over good bite.. I gave up on the denture... this time entirely my responsibility... and embarked full force on my career.. it is true that my speech made me successful but my biting became further week and over years the upper teeth over-erupted, because of the gaps in my teeth, the other teeth grew and tilted in all possible directions, it basically changed alignment of all my teeth and the jaw bones.. I could still smile showing of my white front teeth.. but beyond that is a dark hole... absence of teeth... These last 10 years, I have been everywhere but in Mumbai... in-spite of having a great dentist, I could not benefit because I was never there... but I stayed in touch with this professor and every time i was home I made sure that I had my regular dental check... by then my mom and brother had become his dedicated patients.

Good thing is the technological development in the field of dentistry and at the same time, there was improvement in my affordability. It took a while, a long while but finally I found myself in perfect situation.. I had a great dentist, the dental implants became easily available in India and I could afford it. Last year, I finally decided to go ahead with major rework on my teeth... It was an ambitious plan given the fact that I visit Mumbai once a year, I live on student visa in Europe which practically means I do not have access to good dental care and I cant afford to seek even emergency help while being abroad.. but I have a dentist who is highly professional, skilled and capable of carrying out a lot of dental work without much pain or complications in such short while. In my last trip of 10 days, he inserted two titanium implants in my lower jaw.. the procedure that sounded ghastly... like boring a hole through the jaw bone and fitting a peg inside, number of nuts and bolts that go with it.. to make an artificial root for the tooth to be implanted on top... he explained me the procedure, he answered all my concerns, he took me through the process and I felt like an empowered patient. He even promised me that my pleasure for food while I am in Mumbai wont be totally lost and I could eat soon enough all normal soft things.. anyways that is what I always eat.. soft food.. so it did not bother me much.. I just had to control spices... you dont want some salt and red chilly powder over your opened gums and stitches... I was initially scared but after undergoing the first procedure I grew confident.. he often gave me a hand mirror while he worked on my teeth so that I could see what was going on... I loved to be part of that process, to have a look... otherwise I have troubled relationship with mirror.. but being in his dental chair, i absolutely want the hand mirror .... What I distinctly remember in my last treatment with him is that I could not stop giggling in that dental chair.. strange but true.. he would narrate the procedure in his own humorous style as he worked.. and I had hard time to control my laughter.... try and imagine laughing when there is some heavy duty work being  undertaken in your jaws... I guess this experience began the healing process for that deep emotional injury 10 years ago in dental school... and 20 years ago when I consented to remove my permanent teeth without much thought.. There was hardly any pain... and my recovery was uneventful.. I flew out to Europe in a week's time with tiny Xrays and patient notes with all necessary details of inserted implants in case I had to seek emergency help in the Netherlands.. I did not need it.. but I love looking at those XRays... my natural teeth stretching out in all weird directions and there sit the implants, quite well behaved... we needed to give some time so that the jaw bone will accept the metal implant and grow around it, thus giving a permanent fixture.. I kept imagining myself eating an apple some day soon....it was such a joyous visualization.. I kept giggling and I told him about my fantasy of eating an apple... without having to cut it in small pieces or cooking it...

This morning I met him again... the next procedure has started.. it is still not an easy task... one side is more or less straight forward but for the other... we have to do an intentional root canal for an over erupted tooth from the upper jaw, then cut that tooth, put a crown on it.. and make space for an implant below... Root canal that I needed 20 years ago.. I will undergo one tomorrow... my first one.. in a very different context... things have changed quite a bit in that process as well... it seems it only requires two settings now.. I will find out how that goes... but I guess, I am going to fly out of Mumbai with 2 or possibly three strong molar implants... I cant believe it.. I dont know how my jaw will look like when I have more teeth in there.. how will it feel to bite and to eat... I really hope it wont affect my speech.. I love my speech more than my teeth even today.. but I am excited and happy... I will have few additional functional teeth to help me chew and bite... This morning, again with my hand mirror... I kept counting... number of teeth.... I guess I will have total 27 teeth in case everything goes as planned... highest ever since those crazy extractions.... and he reminded me... 'It is not about number of teeth but it is really about restoring function, chewing and strengthening structure of your jaws...' I cant agree less... I cant wait to eat an apple.. I cant wait to open my jaw and see and feel those new teeth... it is my second chance indeed....

and I will continue to eat chocolate... but I have learned to take my teeth seriously.... Thanks doc for this second chance you have provided me with.. I am eternally grateful....

Being Lazy 101

That was my new year resolution.. not that I ever manage to keep my resolution for more than an hour... but that is how I would describe my day today.. lazy.. aimless... just being there... and not being there... I was in many places and with many people in my head.. but most of the time, I was physically in my bed today... trying to sleep or keep my eyes closed... feeling yet another mattress under my back, filtering out traffic honks just outside the window... the road construction work sounds in Basel sound non-existent in comparison to this symphony of music... to make a grand welcome for me, the apartment building where I live has started re-plastering and structural repairs of the building... so there is no dirth of dust and noise.... I am home for sure....

It is warm and humid..... and my skin never misses that clue... I have super-oily skin at the moment.. I never understood this logic of skin glands.. I wish they would secrete all this oil in the cold weather of Europe, so i wont need all those moisturizers..... why ooze the sebum unnecessarily in Mumbai.. there is enough moisture here... but things always do not work as per the logic..

after my initial roaring hunger last night, I am taking it pretty easy... on food front... wonder how long this will last... I go on an eating spree whenever in Mumbai... always wonder what is it that I am eating symbolically .. it is definitely emotional eating... did my baseline weight this morning... and then there will be 'after' measurement... but food habits will be changed.... for sure... no greens and salads, lots of home-cooked delicacies that I cant cook myself or wont even find ingredients... invitations at the relatives with more to eat... my morning drink of honey, lemon and warm water already got replaced by chai tea boiled in milk with herbs and spices... i never make it for myself because it never tastes the same.... but this morning my day began with a cup of tea in bed... at 9am.. my mother spoiling me all over again.....I am home for sure...

My closet doesn't feel like mine anymore... my soft toys are covered with dust.. my mom refused to take care of my 32 odd toys.... I have been told to give them away or to take them to basel... in days ahead..i will bathe them one by one... and wash away all that dirt and other emotional webs... my piles of books.. they are turning yellow too... all those boxes with little memories, hundreds of letters and old diaries... I have my life scattered over the place... old black and white pictures from my childhood.. they are catching moisture.. I have to preserve them somehow...there was a temptation to make a list.. but I resisted.. list is taking shape in my head but it is not on paper yet... this afternoon, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling... should I empty my stuff from here.... why am i occupying so much space here in this tiny apartment.... how often and for how long I will keep returning home? I guess as long as my mom and brother are around... but all other connections and bonds already feel strained... something that I am trying to hold on to.. to keep them alive... but it is a struggle...

I continued to stare at the ceiling.... and there it was.. the ceiling fan... all my life I have been afraid of those... I could never sleep under one because of the fear that it might fall and kill me... in hot Mumbai summers with 40 C temperature.. I would rather soak in sweat but not start the fan.. ridiculous fear but i could never overcome it... my life last three years or so without ceiling fans... was such a bliss.. i had forgotten about this fear till last Thursday night...when I woke up in the middle of night, soaked in sweat.. heart racing... realizing that my fear of the ceiling fans was back... I was paralyzed by this fear.. I was going back to the land of fans... it sank in.. and it provoked all the unsettling thoughts and fears...

I shared this incidence with my brother the next morning... he knows this fear very well... he has suffered silently because of my inability to deal with it... I walked in the bedroom last night to see a brand new ceiling fan... smooth, silent yet strong... no rattling sounds.. no scary looks... will I be safe, I wondered... he looked at me... we said nothing... I did sleep under the fan last night... the blades whirling around fast.. creating 'wind'... cooling the room down.. cooling me down... I kept staring at it... and thinking about it... the fan, the fear, the unresolved conflict... the wind, the temperature, myself, my home, the bonds and connections... past and the present... me, constantly changing, constantly in conflict, restless, in search of something... but what is it that I am really searching for? how do I face all my fears which catch me unprepared.. how do I let go... of all the constraints, emotional or physical and take a leap of faith.. how do I remain honest to myself and to people that matter the most to me... how do I remain me?

I think I have broken yet another resolution... I have not been lazy after all... :(

may be my next resolution should be..' i will hurt my lips to my highest ability each moment..'.. I would so love to break that resolution...