Turning the book over in my hands I wondered how many people must have handled it. To the unseeing eye, it was only an old, tattered book- unworthy of any praise. But a lover would know its worth. I wondered how many stories it held, apart from the printed one. How many moments it treasured? I love reading for all those well known reasons- for visiting unknown places, for the new eyes, new adventures, new friends, the knowledge, the wisdom. I love the musty smell, the sound of flipping a page, the feel of a book in your hands. I love it all! But I love reading a borrowed book most. I love reading the tales hidden in them. Faded covers curling at the edges, browned papers… Finding a dried petal or flower in between the page connects you to some stranger-friend. Words scribbled on the edges and careless doodlings. Favorite passages marked and dog eared pages! A stain here and a stain there, telling stories within a story. Chocolate marks, candy wrappers, names of lovers scribbled in tiny hearts drawn at the corner of a page. How many stories could a book tell? And how many could you read?
You know those kinda crazy people who love collecting stationery. They love buying new pens, fancy pencils and above all the stationery-notebooks. They may or may not use it but they just gotta have it! Yeah, I am one of them.
Maybe it’s about how they come in so many different sizes and colors and themes. Some of them have squared edges, others rounded. Although I am not a knowledgeable collector, there is something about notebooks that attract me.
Maybe it’s because a notebook is an item in which I can unleash my emotions, creativity and thoughts. Or maybe it’s the idea of something fresh, something new, something untouched…. The act of writing down my thoughts and ideas is extremely satisfying.
Also, anything handwritten has the power to generate excitement in a way that emails and text messages just can’t. Most people these days don’t even carry a pen, let alone a notebook.
So, here’s a suggestion- own a notebook. What you fill it with- favorite moments, ideas, grocery list, budgets and expenses, poems, favorite quotes, songs, drawings, doodles, 3am thoughts and ideas, dreams, passions, bucket lists, places you want to visit, jokes, love notes, your feelings – is entirely up to you.
When you live with a person long enough, you fall into a routine. But, when you love the person, you fall in love with the rountine too.
The waking or being woken up. The cold hands on the back game. The hurried breakfast on weekdays and the breakfast in bed on Sundays. The lazy Saturdays!
The chai-pavs, the chit chats, the late night movies. The resting of the head on one’s shoulder, the intense conversations of where to go and what to eat!
The arguments and the simmering off. The attempts of appeasement. The inside jokes, the naughty smirks, the rolling of the eyes and the helpless shrugs!
The hidden chocolates, the lunch box love-notes, the Sunday’s sundae!
The morning hug, the night green tea, the see you and welcome back kiss, the holding hands in public and the comforting touch!
All these are offerings of love.
But what does love do in a long distance relationship? With all the distance and different locations and different time zones… love seems to be reduced into pixels and pictures, emojis and memes, videos and audios, texts and tagging and surprise Amazon deliveries! Like they say, love is love, it finds a way!
To be on your own is a blessing everyone needs from time to time. But to have your soulmate by your side is like having a hot fudgy brownie with a dollop of ice cream!
The first person that came to mind while painting this piece was my late aunt. My dear phuppu.
She was a spirited woman with a love for greenery and pets like I have seen in no one else.
I miss her. Her laughter that shook the house, her joyous presence, her unconditional love- I miss it all. She has left so many memories behind that whenever I visit my mom I half expect her to show with that wide beam that always adorned her face.
Different corners of that house are filled with memories of different times.
At times, it is too overwhelming. But then I remind myself of how blessed I am to have such people in my life whose love leave a mark.
People who have lots of possessions spend so much energy trying to protect what they have that they lose sight of what’s important in life. But remember- Being able to hold your loved ones whenever you want is a lucky luxury.
Everyone’s impatience at the baggage carousel has a different story to tell.
But my most favourite part at any airport is the range emotions at display! You just need to visit an airport if you want to witness the purest of emotions. Watch families separate outside the departures. Watch them cry and give last minute instructions and advices to each other. Before boarding see how they send a message or make a call to their loved ones. Then watch people reunite with their families at the arrivals. The feeling of being home. The feelings of anticipation and excitement as they wait to see their family and friends! Children jumping into the arms of their grandparents who had come to receive them. Happy tears being wiped and smiles spreading from ear to ear!
Airports are places that allow you to live the lives of others for fleeting moments. Airports are magical places!
The only thing displeasing about an airport could be a crying baby on the plane and more so if that baby belongs to you!
All this time and nowhere to go gave me the opportunity to relive some old school memories. I was going through my treasured stuff from school when I saw the slam books from then. Along with all the nostalgia came a lot of surprise, embarrassment and self realization. You see, the first page of every slam book was filled by me and my own answers made me cringe. Boy, was I a silly girl back then? You betcha!
Throughout my school-life I had wanted to be extraordinary. Who doesn’t? Wouldn’t we be all lying if we said that we didn’t desire to have that glory?
The road to nostalgia was filled with chagrin at every turn and it reminded me of all the things I had wanted to change about myself back then, beginning with my name. Yes, that bad.Â
I mean, what kind of a name is Irfana (it means wisdom, meh!) anyway? The fact that Irfan Pathan gained fame during my adolescent years wasn’t helpful either. People who mispronounced my name went as far as calling me Irfan Pathan.Â
I wasn’t happy with my nose either. It felt too big for my face. Could I be anymore Asian? The two slightly crooked teeth in my mouth bothered me too and how nice would it be if I could get rid of all that baby fat? My feet seemed too big to me and I was invariably desperately in need of a wardrobe makeover.Â
And then there was all that stupid acne! Young chocolate lovers would know what I mean.
Besides these physical changes, I wanted the freedom an Indian teenager never gets- to see the world and rule it. I wanted answers for my philosophical self. I lacked confidence and knowledge but there was no worrying about it because I lived in my own bubble of ignorance.
I had dreams but no plans. And to top it all, I was hopeless romantic !
Years passed, ups and downs and bumps later, I made mistakes and gained experiences. A lot in me changed. Not at once of course, but I know I’m not the same girl I was in school.
With time, confidence filled my mind and optimism filled my heart. I learnt to be content with things I have while striving towards the things I want.
While I pursued my passion, I found my calling in teaching. When I started working as a teacher, I became a student of life. I fell in and out of love and realised that it’s fine. I learnt how to nurse a broken heart. I hated the world and fell in love with it all over again. I found peace at libraries and orphanages. I found solace in poetry, stories, prayer and friends. Different things worked for me at different times.
And one day, I just woke up with the wisdom that happiness resides in the little things in life.
I love people who just don’t talk about their big achievements but more about how much they love life, how they see beauty in others, how they appreciate every little thing and how they have the hunger and enthusiasm to serve this world.
Striving for an extraordinary life is foolishness. Putting all your efforts for that one entitlement is foolishness because it makes your happiness conditional. Don’t you wonder if you are anything more than mere titles?
Rather what’s extraordinary is to discover the joy and marvel of an ordinary life.
Waking up to the sun bursting through the clouds, seeing an old friend after a long time, a child’s innocent laugh, a blooming flower, biting into freshly plucked fruits, an old tattered book, a text from someone you love, a cup of coffee on a rainy day, random gifts, finding money in your old jacket, the glint in the eyes of your lover when they look at you, a kiss on the forehead, smell of freshly baked bread, being barefoot on grass or beach sand between your toes, the first hug from your child(well, that’s huge!), stories told by grandparents, silence… All these and much more!
Little things are far truer, far more genuine and difficult to falsify.Â
I’m not condoning a lack of ambition here. A life without goals becomes boring but try focusing on the ordinary things that feel special too. My pursuit of happiness has lead me to become a teacher, a designer, a wife and a mother. It made me read, write, teach, paint, love and nurture.
Not everything has changed though. I still laugh out loud like an idiot without a hint of feminity, I refuse to diet, I still experiment with my hair, I still do wear my heart on my sleeve and embarrass myself quite often.
I was a git, I still am a git. But a better one now.
So from wanting to change my name, my nose and my family, the only thing I changed was my attitude and it has been one of my finest decisions in life.Â
I get off on ’57 Chevy’s I get off on screaming guitar. Like the way it gets me every time it hits me. I’ve got a rock and roll, I’ve got a rock and roll heart.
“I get off on ’57 Chevys I get off on screaming guitar Like the way it gets me every time it hits me I’ve got a rock and roll – I’ve got a rock and roll heart”
Wandering with Words 