She is my first in me

A healthy body will nurture a healthy mind. We have heard of this zillion times from our time of birth- the first rhyme from our Moms lips. Well, there lies a  fact- apart from the usual tyrants of pineal gland and understanding the rhythm of body. I would like to re-iterate the value of disciplining the body’s susceptibility to wear off, ranging from saying No to the most craved food to saying YES to sing a lullaby to make her  fall asleep when she needs, not when I want. It again varies from posturing your body right to feeding her with a balanced diet and adequate exercise, or from de-stressing to detoxifying. Theologists and the philosophers from centuries, are quoted saying “Every human being is the author of his own health or his own diseases”.

When I fail in my strength  to envision, I see my body's thirst for plain water. My skin speaks in dried painful chants when she is thirsty. My mind picks all impossible possibilities on earth, all dilemmas which can never be solved  – when I don’t feed her with the music of love and care. When I break into tears and soaks my soul, my spine droops in distress,  and she speaks by sending her pain waves to me. I fail to stand in that virtual reality. These are just my simple telepathic symptoms among the plentitude which comes from my mind to body and vice versa.

Listening to those signals which the body sends out in every millisecond, her pulse of pleasure or her sigh of pain-  gives you the mantra to make her live in merry. Trust me she replies, ok, lemme prove it. Whenever you plan for the next day’s event – she confidently wakes you up at the time you planned much before your alarm does. She gives you the dreams and vision of your event as you sleep to make you fit for it. You may call it psychological impact or body clock’s mechanism, after all I call it “her whisperings and affections to me”. Abusing body's true self, her inherent charm and response to us get affected much with the random exploitation with irregularities. She does give you signs of her tears by an obesity, depression, vertebral disorders, skin rashes, recurring head aches, insomnia, drowsiness and you may just name it, after all your body's language is never mine.

I be flexible too at times I go disordered with my patterns in sleep, when I know that I have stored enough of my sleep so that I could leave my  eyes open for something or someone till I reach my threshold. I often fail to take my body for a walk, I fail in giving her fresh air, a sight of beauty. But only when you know her, you will be able to realize what is she deprived of….

It's a Friday

When on a week day I yearn for it, and when I  live in it I want to escape out of it- that is weekend for me (PS: Not Always :D). Thought as I trifle with keys of laptop let the lines formed be the reflection of a Friday- Thoughts of mine. There is nothing classy I can do today than printing my boredom.
Friday is my realization day that the energy I could spend for others has huge fortitude than what I plan to do for self. The day I make greater resolutions and higher objectives for self- discipline and caring.
Laid-back and anxiously tracing the progress of life of my facebook friends.The day of clearing the week- long accumulations at home. The day I wish let the navigators show wrong direction to all the visitors to my home, as I enjoy my laziness and sweat from house hold chores. The day I don't comb my hair, the day I fold my blanket 'n' number of times, the day I watch movies with out seeing it.
The day I stare at the calendar and  crash land in to the destination of 30th and 31st, to satisfy the hunger of my accounts  hardly seeing the graying of my hairs and the pigmentation on my skin.
I do greater things as well, as I give advice  : "Every culinary creation needs a magical touch of love for it to appease the craving of an eater. Otherwise its worthless, even its a mug of coffee". This goes to Mom to let her know the improvement she needs to put in for a better taste. A day of occasional despair,with an ON and OFF button which plays the music of random emotions. A day of fight with my mood swings, and a day of late lights off to wake up in to the warmth of a beautiful week with a new set of Goals, and I say " God, 6 more days for the weekend, wish the Friday comes faaaast"
 So today I thank God, that Its a Friday!!

Collage of Women Cries

A women to be born again in boldness still needs to satisfy number of factors :
Where am I born, what is my ethnicity?
In to the lap of  civilization immunized with the absolute freedom of expression or under the cover-all of taboos and threats.
Can I earn a living? 
If not, its not I speak-I blabber. If I don't earn pennies nor power, I may not either earn the freedom of speech.
Do I have a men force who cares and supports me in every decision I take, like any other individual.
.....and probably many more, which my thoughts at this time has no much relevance to.

Recent incidents which shook my heart is what I express here with no intention to judge nor claim justice and righteousness. The society here is ever willing to accept and get easily pleased with a philanthropist, but if a mercy or a loud outcry for a women victim by a women will always tag me as a feminist, which is not always an acceptable label even in this "womens" era.

Two incidents in the recent past which I read from the newspapers made a viral significance in the social media- both to the national and international readers. I won't blame a mobile cam user's instant eagerness and  action to record or click a brutality or a mishap, 'with all its ethics and respect', inorder to spread the news across billions who are ignorant of the 'world', which includes me. A picture speaks 1000 words, when I look at one of those pictures I can feel the throbbing of that Afghan women awaiting her death from behind. Was she able to notice- that gentle breeze, that deep blue sky, that pleasant morning, the beauty of those green bushy trees infront of her? No... She would have seen only darkness, the darkness which is deeper than darkness.
I don't know your name dear girl, I don't know what your world accused you for- who am I to judge you? But I see you today along with this world.
I see you this little Guwahati girl, molested in public by public taking turn by turn, scavenging her emotions, her tender dreams, her confidence, her self-being. What have you got my crowd? What was your aim? What can you claim? None of us remember her face, but can she  forget that it was She?

Gulf news recently had an appalling statistics from an international resource. To learn a figure, which has much to do with where I come from, was much interesting-Dowry Related murders -22 women are killed  each day.
Where has it gone dear souls- your blood-sheds, sparks and activism against dowry, female foeticide, girl trafficking, slavery, rape, physical and verbal abuse- still makes us to read this news paper clips.

I was disturbed, and it took a few hours of sleep from me. Unknowingly, I shed tears not due to sympathy, but out of fear. I know I am living in the world where our girls still see nightmares of violence, unknown fearsome faces, long grabbing hands, thirst for breath and finally wakes up with teary eyes and heavily pulsating heart, and her days are tired of the previous night's never-ending escape runs.
Sometimes it is more tiring to re-write the script and re-see the dream with a safe ending. And now I too have a happy ending here, from the same newspaper. When I saw you, Tahmina Kohistani, in the pages of London Olympics 2012, marching with determination in your eyes and a gracious smile midst of insults and catcalls, I see you, and I felt the dignity in you.

Afghan Athlete Tahmina Kohistani

Touch Me

Touch, the largest sensory reception was not always given its dignity as a word, and that beautiful feel usually gets over shadowed by TouchMate, Touch SCreen and other Touch applications of this techi era, or with the mask of sexuality.

Parents touch  on the womb, they feel the baby, where the sense of  first touch are exchanged between the foetus and its folks, and what is more beautiful than that and upon birth, how beautiful is their growth with parents stroking, cuddling, rocking, which nurtures their growth than a wholesome baby protein diet.

How many of us return those touch to our parents, and we look among the statistics for the causes for old age death- denial stands top.

Some times we say, certain things touched my heart and that is a remembrance for life and I would say it is not necessary to be pain or sadness which can move your heart, it can be a physical touch which was never given by someone. It reminds me of a specimen experiment done with a few puppies divided in to two groups- a group of isolated puppies provided with delicious dog feed and the other group with a little cuddling and food merely for sustaining its life. A 6 months experiment witnessed the death of the first group puppies.

Holding hands, hugging,  a back rub, a kiss on forehead, a gentle shoulder massage or even a shake hand brings a great deal of antidote to the anxieties of the world.

Remembering those days where the blindfolded games were played. To say it scientifically I must say those times, the sensory nerves, reflex arc and its impulse were highly activated- where Anup, Latha, Swapna or Poornima were recognized just with a touch. Does my skin still sense them?

Take a pen & paper and jot down the most memorable touches you have received, which you still value as a deep heal (which could be even a  beat from your mathematics teacher too :)

Ensure that you have some sort of physical contact every day other than your Laptop Keyboard, Blackberry Messenger, Car steering or TV remote, you may be surprised by the positive results you will see from this type of change. 

There is a life dying since it was not touched, reach out, touch the world, and it will be called as the Divine Touch