Cocoon

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Spinning and weaving … encasing to insulate, to conceal and protect from all that does not matter, all that is unnecessary.

Hovering within a hum beneath a woven intricacy of intertwine that’s impervious to the glittering stars and gleaming sun, and firing slings and arrows. Every minute motion and echoing pin drop stirs a primeval instinct as that in the startled doe intent on protecting her fawn. An invisible crescendo of peaks of pain curbs all emotion, as if the air layered in the taut complexity of building pressure suspends every fragment within a vibrational pulse of extreme. Its strength sustains and supports; crumbling is not an option.

The moment is now and all focus is on being attentive without thinking or interference from influences that do not matter. The envelope of silk shields the buzz of a shifting world.

Time stops and has no meaning or measure, senses implode. An embrace sends a million receptors to revelry and the depth of need can break a whisper … a kiss of brushed cheeks … firecrackers of gasping breath. Yesterday lingers in the game of yesteryear where names are lost and words play hide and seek.

And yet time passes in a place of no time to allow an emergence to begin. A slow release at first to adjust to the stark bright, then a battle to ward off a humidity that feeds as a hungry hyena. The startled doe must stand her ground in the grumbles of aftershocks. Tentative steps, quivering …

Emotions of pressure barricaded within a shackled heart trickle as tears. New insights of pinks, blues and yellows, a wafting spritz of Sanpelligrino fizz. Birds and bees, buzzing and busy … multiplying and amplifying as a philharmonic orchestra tuning to perform a new symphony.

The importance of yesterday stays as was, perhaps as a non importance. Today is new, birthed as the chrysalis from its cocoon. Life sharpens as though viewed through the lens of a pristine Alpine lake, trimmed in an effervescence of ochre, magenta and indigo.

Time to ensconce is always, a space for morphing and transforming even without inclination to morph and transform, for quiet contemplation upon a reality of singular objective. To focus.

Accept it as a precious gift of strength where life can never be the same. Nor should it be.

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Sumathi Mohan

We are friends on the net since 2008 but had never met face to face, though we are living in the same country but 1200 km far from each other. I in-boxed ‘Sumathi Mohan’ my old-time redroom.com writer friend about our visit to her city. To my dismay, she told me that she has been shifted to the other southern city with her husband since couple of years. But my disappointment transferred in to delight when I learned that at the same time she is supposed to come there to visit her son.

‘I will be glad if we can meet.’ She told me on the phone.’

 ‘We will meet for the sure.’ I replied, though I was not knowing if it would be possible in such a tight schedule of my five day tour.

To my shock, I learned at the ending part of my tour that she arrived in the city, but had a small accident resulting a fracture in the thumb. ‘Doctor says it will only be possible to fix it after the swelling goes away.’ She sounded pained and disappointed over the phone.

 ‘We must meet her,’ my wife said ‘you never know when you will get a chance again to meet her.’ To give a try I decided to meet her during the last four hours before my return flight. There was a heavy weekday traffic in the pick-time morning hours. After a couple of call exchanges to get true directions we reached at her son’s apartment.

‘Listen carefully, Sir, come back in 45 minutes or you will miss your flight, airport is 36 km from here.’ Cab driver warned us. I nodded to him in an affirmation.

We went upstairs by lift. As soon as I stepped onto the balcony she hurriedly emerged from the door to welcome us. She was smaller in height than I imagined. We hugged each other, there was the warmth of sisterly love in her hug. She hugged my wife and daughter too. We went inside and she introduced us with her son, and would be daughter in law. She looked stressed and fragile, but her face was glowing with high intellect and confidence. As a doctor I couldn’t resist myself by examining her thumb. I also checked X-ray which clearly showed a detached fracture of the first phalanx of the thumb. Her doctor planned to give her a flexible plaster after two days. I knew she was in pain, but was helpless to help her.

'Had it not been for my broken thumb I would have cooked a delicious south Indian dish for all of you.' She regretted. 'Don't feel sorry, meeting you is more valued to us.'I tried to console her.

We talked over a coffee, mainly about our redroom time, about her published book and about the progress of my novel. Time was slipping like a water of the fast flowing river. We took photographs. Exchanging multiple thoughts in so little time was impossible, but we tried to do our best possible. Her son and daughter in law were very generous and loving. I gathered that she is a brave lady living her life on her own, a loving wife and caring mother. While leaving, she came downwards up to the cab to say good-bye forgetting the pain. She shook our hands through the window of the car for the last time, a gesture only a loving friend can display. I am feeling proud meeting her, knowing her, having her as a friend. Thank you Sumathi for allowing us to be in your life to cherish those valuable moments. I wish you a fast recovery, health and happiness.

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Copyright

© Jitu Rajgor

Recent Comments
Anonymous
While I read this extremely touching note, my eyes brimmed over and relived those wonderfully blessed moments. Doctor Jitu ji, Yo... Read More
Friday, 28 August 2015 05:50
Jitu C Rajgor
Thank you Sumathi, I am really regretting not spending much time with you.But I enjoyed the every single moment of our meeting. I... Read More
Friday, 28 August 2015 10:03
Anonymous
Yes, thank you, recovering quickly.
Friday, 28 August 2015 14:01
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The wart of small mindedness

b2ap3_thumbnail_blind.jpgLast week again, that ‘I know best’ supreme ego reared to block the right for same-sex marriage in Australia. In simple terms, the Prime Minister's party room decided to stand in the way of recognising marriage equality after a six-hour debate that resolved against allowing a conscience vote.

The gall of the ugly wart of small mindedness, festering within a handful of people who believe that they can stand in the way of two people expressing their love for one another through a commitment that is meaningful to them. And to see this handful behave in a way where they yield a power to make such a decision based on what they believe is right, without having a level of empathy and emotional intelligence to ‘read’ what society wants, to listen to what society is saying, or even be bothered to ask. They after all, are representing the people.

You have to wonder what century we’re living in. Oh that’s right, the same century where the government continues to turn their back on asylum-seekers arriving by boat in the hope of finding refuge. That’s another story.

It’s embarrassing that we continue to discuss this right for marriage equality.

No-one has the right to tell another how to live their life (without harming others of course), let alone how they commit to the one they love. It's a taint on the notion of love. Real love. On who should love who, why, and how that love is cemented in commitment, whether founded on the belief of the sanctity of marriage or not. The ability to marry only if two people are of the opposite sex is an incredibly warped concept.

Love isn't something that can be reasoned or slotted into neat compartments. It just is. It can sprout from nowhere, unexpected, whether one is looking for it or not and without ticks in boxes to indicate ‘the right love’. Love comes from the heart and with an unwavering connection between two people, an instinct to support and protect, a physical desire that arouses without understanding, and consideration, acceptance and forgiveness without condition. The head cannot reason with what stems from the heart so how can the head reason with the depth of need to commit to love through the sanctity of marriage?

The head cannot explain the comfort one feels in a first embrace and of never wanting to let go. The head cannot explain that pit of empty in one's gut at the thought of losing someone even when one is unaware of feelings brewing inside.

But I have faith. Momentum is building. Petitions and rallies for same-sex marriage continue across the country and others in government are speaking out, even in the Prime Minister's party room with six Liberal MP's and Senators today committing to crossing the floor. Deputy Leader of the Opposition, Tanya Plibersek, wrote about the huge disappointment to millions of Australians who support marriage equality after last week’s decision and more poignant, she apologised in parliament to children of same-sex parents for not having the same rights as their friends who have parents that can marry, simply because they are of the opposite sex. I felt cheated for those families, compounded because of the effect on the children.

Tanya’s apology can be found here and her story, here.

It bothers me as to why people can’t be left to love who they want and commit in the way that's important to them. Our own heart feels as it does and those feelings can't be rationalised to dictate who can marry who. Perhaps we’ve developed into a society oozing in egotistical opinion and judgement, boosted by super steroids, the same steroids feeding the ugly wart of small mindedness.

The heart will always shine through though, even over the ugly wart. Love isn't a commodity or an issue for politicians to play with to suit the day’s agenda. I have enough belief and trust in humanity that all Australians will have the right to marry, sooner rather than later.

Recent Comments
Katherine Gregor
Hear! Hear! I just think that with all the problems there are in the world, that need attention, why not just let people make what... Read More
Monday, 17 August 2015 09:51
Monika Schott PhD
Exactly. There's so much going on in the world that needs attention, like all those asylum seekers. And that word JUDGE - it has ... Read More
Monday, 17 August 2015 10:09
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Ephemera

When I am tired but caught up in the day, sometimes I turn to Emerson, sometimes to Yeats. This is the page I turned to today: 

 

"Ah, do not mourn," he said,

"That we are tired, for other loves await us

Hate on and love through unrepining hours.

Before us lies eternity; our souls 

Are love, and a continual farewell."

 

W. B Yeats

Ephemera

1889

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
The trouble is, I find, they are both so wedded and welded to sadness that the possibilities of renaissance and re-creation from w... Read More
Thursday, 18 June 2015 15:18
Stephen Evans
Yeats I could see called depressing, because he probably was, though his artistic achievement always seemed to me to contradict hi... Read More
Thursday, 18 June 2015 23:44
Anonymous
Just yesterday I was telling someone about this guy Stephen Evans who often posts brief, sometimes very brief, items that I always... Read More
Thursday, 18 June 2015 19:18
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5 Comments

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