At the End of the Tunnel

 Finally I am brought in front of the MRI tunnel machine.  The guy asked - "You are not claustrophobic are you?"

Yes, that lovely lady's been replaced with this cut and dry, matter- of -fact guy.  "You are going to go in  that  tunnel" - he showed me the tunnel.  If you feel you are passing out, squeeze this ball.  He gave me a tiny rubber ball with a tube attached. " And here, take these ear plugs ...the noise may be pretty..." he made a face.

"I can hear you fine though.  So.".

"Well, whatever."- Again another "attitude" face.

He leaves me.  I go in the tunnel.  I thank my friends who have gone through it, and were thoughtful  not to scare me giving me all the strength that it's child's play... you'll be fine.

But my weakness is- I am super imaginative, easily can bring thoughts that make me cry , shiver in horror or fly in joy.  So I try to bring all the images that make me fly like a kite, play with Zoe and all those darling faces blowing candles for my birthday.

Bang. bang, (Oscar the grouch banging on the garbage can thinking of a band)...HRRR... (you are now  dropped into Niagara falls)... Dhata, ghata, ghata ...in enormous loudness shaking my whole brain  like machine guns going on   ( as if  I am invited to the Iraq war or something)

I think -what if the machine fails now?   How long has it been?  Twenty minutes seems like eternity.  I succumb myself  to my fate trying to stay calm and recite "I'll be fine...I'll be fine..."

All on a sudden it stops.  Utter silence.  Uncomfortable stillness. Did the machine really fail and is stuck?  This is really scary.  But I must not squeeze the ball. I'll be brave.

Then tringa ling ling ling...goes the sound , as if I am on a tram going to my grand pa's house in Tollygung like I used to do as a kid in Calcutta.

The tram pushes me out to light.

The guy came out and said - you did good.

I knew it.  There is always light at the end of a tunnel.  No matter how much I am suffering soon it will pass.

I make drawings of earrings when the pain is sane, these designs are  mostly extensive , extremely elaborate wire work designs,( I'll show you one day when I can sit to take pictures).  My fingers laugh out loudly-" "Are you kidding?  You expect me to make these some day?"

"Yes- says my brain".

"Just wait until I can sit, I'll show you "- talks back other parts of my body.

Work-life balance

Recently I finished the book Women, Work and Art of Savoire Faire  by Mireille Guilliano, the best seller author of the book-French Women Don't Get Fat

I did not read the second book yet but  would like to share my impression about the first one-


Women Work & Art of Savoire Faire:

Guilliano already admitted in the beginning that this is not one of those How to books - ( How to bring killer traffic to your blog or Three best ways to find the most profitable keyword..).  This is a book of stories and annectdotes.

Well, now that I am done with the reading I find with a surprise that   I can not remember a single story - not a single one  really stayed in my mind- and it is only three days.  Rather, subconsciously I noted some important points for "success" that she mentioned  (even though  she mentioned that she does not like the word "success" really.)

1. Dreams and ambitions do change with different stages of life.  While having a red convertible sports car may be the dream in late twenties, in your thirty you might find that it has shifted.  Now all you want is a family and motherhood!  Therefore, enjoy each day with style, the French way, keeping this valuable advise in mind weave your life planning in bite size short term goals.

2. Take time for yourself.  Cultivate healthy habits, stylish grooming rituals, attractive manners, proper etiquette etc all along- as these are the gold stamps on the passport for making lasting impressions.

3. Define clearly what to expect from you and what you do expect too, both to your family and business circle.  Both circles will appreciate .  Always promise less, rather over deliver if possible.

These are winning styles- the French way  for maintaining  the work-life balance.

Did you happen to read any of her books?  I'd like to know your comments.

Irony of the Wedding Bangle

So, finally my doctor is convinced that I should take an MRI and see a spine specialist. Well wishing friends are relieved- good, at last the American Medical system is paying attention to their poor, suffering friend.

-But, do poke the MRI appointment  desk, they advised.

With in an hour at 1:30 pm the phone rang. - Can you come at 3:30 pm today?

I was only half way through my lunch sandwich...my husband yelled- Take it.

Okay- I gulped.

-Did you have brain, heart, spine surgeries before?. - No.

-Are you claustrophobic?

-What do you mean?
 
-Well, your body will be put through a narrow tunnel- tube.

How narrow?  But I gather all my strength and try to think of all the known faces that came out straight after an MRI.  I take a deep breath and say - I think I'll be fine.

-Well then come, no jewelry, no make up.

I can deal with that.

So,  after a million baby steps from  the top of the roof parking lot,  ( yes, everyone and their cousins are sick today probably, all are  here in this hospital), through the green belt ( checking out sign post arrows), down to the basement, finally we arrive at the registration desk.  My thigh nerves are really flaring angry now.

In a few minutes with perfect pronunciation I hear my name called -  Anindita Basu!  - by a cute looking nurse. I am impressed.

-No bobby pins, no jewelry, okay.

-Well...mmm  I have this wedding bangle that I can not take off.  See I was much younger, much slimmer thirty five years ago and I have never taken it off.

-Oh it's beautiful...why, sure.  Look at the design, must be 22 k gold?  - she calls a friend.

-Yes, but it is iron clad. 

-What?  Her eyes popped.


-Yes, it is very auspicious.  The iron part is believed to protect my husband from evils.  It is for his well being and I have never taken it off.

-How sweet.  Does he have one for you

No, but I don't say that to her.  I remember my feminist friend's remark- They are just iron shackles.  In those days men could marry several wives and live under the same roof with all of them, each wearing an iron wedding bangle for His Highness.  Damn it. Chauvinist pigs!  Why would a modern wife wear it? I don't.

But I don't see it like that. It is a sweet, auspicious, sentimental symbol to me. - Can't I just wrap it with a cloth or something?

-Honey, It is a very strong magnet.  Come see for yourself.

She is definitely much younger than me. But I liked her affectionate tone.

As I approach my wrist close to the tube - OH MY!!!

OUCH.  I have never felt such a gigantic pull.  The monster with its red lighted licking tongue looked at me - I WANT IT!

I understand. The nurse looked at me with all her tenderness.  - See, Sweety, You don't want to get burnt.  It will scald you.  Go to a jewelry artist and take it off. Then come here. We'll wait for you.

I took an appointment four days later.- Will you be there then?  I kind of got attached to her magnetic personality.

But she drew me away gently.  No, my dear, but whoever be there will help you.

I came home and went to my studio.  (see I call it studio- I AM the jewelry artist.)  Easily with my flush cutter I could cut the gold part. But the iron part is tricky.

My engineer husband declared that there must be a split in the iron part too.  His tool box arrived. 
The blue veins in my wrist , delicate under my pale skin makes him nervous.  But I am fearless.  -Yank it out - I say.  And with all his manly force he did.

I am free. What a sense of relief.  Now I can take it off when I wish.  I have gone through every security post to be ostracized, poked and touched in all private parts - yet I took it for granted for these thirty five years.

Now I am free.  I believe I'll always be wearing the protective bangle for him - visible or not: and I trust that he has it too for me - visible or not; each couple who love each other must be wearing such protective bangles - visible or not.

Yet, I pick it up.  How can I fix it so that I can wear it easily?  The vines of hope design on the gold glisten with glee.












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A Pain in the...

I am knocked out with a pain in the... you know what.  The name of the monster is Sciatica.  It arrived,  with out notice.  I heard that is its nature ... it will go away on its own too with out proper good bye after oh may be two to eight weeks.. some where there. It has a tendency to visit you again if it likes your BODY too much.

Well, it has been four weeks now.  It really gets on to your nerves- from the back of your thighs to all the way down.  It bites, squeezes, pinches, chews, gnaws, shakes, rattles, even numbs you until you cry, reach for more pain killers and then fall asleep.

You can't sit, you may barely walk and stand.  But you may lie on your tummy and write rubbish like I am doing now, or lie on your back with your feet propped up on a pillow and day dream.

Things are worse now than it was a couple of weeks ago.

Yes, I remember that I had a craft show.  Would I be able to make it?  Well it will take me at least three hours in the morning to get ready to be presentable in walking condition.  Mornings are the worst time when you wake up and have to go to the bathroom.  You would rather crawl than stand on your own feet!

Couple of nights before the show I came across a blog where the author was describing one of his first craft shows.  Sorry, I forgot the link now.  It was an out door show.  The day was gloomy, at one time  the sky showed its angry colors and roared every now and then.  The wind demonstrated its powers.   No buyers came.  The vendors started taking down their tents.  It was still three o clock, still two hours left before the closing.

Our  jewelry artist author, a starving artist then ( a very successful one now) stayed put.  It was his principle to  keep his promise.  To serve until the end.  He was just starting to establish his work ethics.

Around 4:50 a miracle happened.  An elderly lady with an umbrella showed up from no where.

"Good, at least some one is open.  I need to buy a bunch of gifts.  I am going to a family get together after twenty years.  Who knows if I'll see them again....Yes give me those earrings, yes six pairs for Jenny, Sally, Nina....and those bracelets -two will be fine for the two new brides and show me that necklace..."

Our staving artist made enough for his whole day's worth of waiting.

The article motivated me.  So I woke up at 5:30 in the morning next day ( very unusual for me , I am not an early bird person) and did everything I could- hot shower, massage chair, all the exercises I was taught, back and forth pacing in the hallway for twenty minutes so that I came to walking condition by eight thirty.  Yes, I forgot to mention.  I did a lot of praying.

My prayers were answered. I could make it till the end.  There were buyers in my stall. And most important- I overheard appreciation from unknown people, who did not know me and gave compliments to my work.  Now I know what people like even if they can not buy it that very moment.

I thank them with folded hands silently.  You have given me the push to move forward.  You have stretched your hands to let me stand when I need it most.

Namaste.

Healing Blue Apatite

Do you know the power of the healing gemstone- Blue Apatite?

"Isn't this Anindita?"- chime the lady next in line. I try to place the face.

"Lady Brabourne College, remember? I am Anjuli.-- she added.
"Of course I remember, Anjuli" I give her a tight hug.

My, Anjuli must have gained a hundred pounds!But I bite my tongue before blabbering out -You have changed so much. Instead I say, "How long has it been, Anju- thirty years?"

Anjuli was our college queen (like the Prom Queen, here). She was the tennis champion, college representative for Debate Tournaments, and the most popular gal in the campus. I was not in her close friend circle, rather one in her fan club.

I fancied keeping track of the gossips that hummed around her- how different suitors and young men tried to approach and catch her and how with swift swings, spins and smashes she handled them like her ping pong game.

"Remember the guy who held a bet with his friends to show off that he knew you?'- we chuckle.

"So who's the lucky winner finally? Is it Ron?"
"Yes, Ron." A shy yet strange smirk rises and fades.

"Have time today? I have to kill an hour before I pick up my child from his S.A.T. tutorial.

"Absolutely. I have to make time. There is so much to catch up"
So, we find a tiny table in Barbara's Bakery. And this is where I looked forward to find her every Wednesday for the next few weeks. We opened our lives to each other over cups of lattes and the gourmet goodies Barbara could offer.

From the best student Anjuli became the best mom, best neighborhood volunteer and the best home maker in town. Then the Supermom syndrome hit her when she found that she had nothing else left for herself.

"I was exhausted, you know." With several surgeries and health problems pounds piled up upon her.

"It was not that I was unaware. I tried different diets and each time it sank me a bit more at the end. It was like I was walking on a quick pit.

When I look in the mirror, I wonder who is this? My face has changed." I lost myself, Anindita. I hide myself from me. I choose clothes that hide my body these days,can you believe that? It was just the other way round one day, you know.

Then I hid myself from Ron. I tried to escape from him until our marriage withered and died.

It's all me, it's all my fault. I don't blame Ron a bit. But in reality, in action I did it everyday. I blamed, blamed, blamed him everyday for everything- from squeezing the tooth paste the wrong way, watching the wrong T.V.shows to spending his own earned money the wrong way.

I left him. I tore down the nest that I had built with so much care one day."

She paused. Then fixing her gaze some far away she added:

"You know- deep down I felt that Ron does not deserve this Anju. It's not fair to him. He's my first love and perhaps I love him more than myself. But he'd never know that.

Then, you know who comes to rescue, to comfort, to put emollient on my wound?

This soft cream on the warm bun." She took a long slow lick with her eyes closed. Then abruptly with a jerk she shoved off her plate across the table.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. I held her hand. It was time to go. It was time to let go.

Next week she agreed to my proposal of taking a walk around the block instead of visiting Barbaras while we caught up with our stories.

I told her about my ecstasy of doing jewelry (the career change) and the agony of the financial struggle of doing what you love to do, no matter what they say.

Next week we found a Weight Watcher meeting place that existed at the other side of the shopping center.

A month later Anju achieved her first 5% weight loss goal. We celebrated it having French manicure done on our nails. We discovered this beauty parlor only nine blocks away on our walking route.

Very soon Anju will be on her 10% loss goal. She is almost there. I am making a knitted wire bracelet for her to celebrate that. It is with blue apatite gemstone beads and mid night blue fresh water pearls knitted with silver wire.

I have studied that apatite is a balancing stone that helps suppress food craving. It helps in concentrating and meditation. It helps with anger and negativity and restores the physical, emotional and spiritual balances.

Pearl brings good fortune, love and a general sense of well being.

With these thoughts and a prayer that may the healing stones show their promises I'll offer her my humble creation.

Of course I'll make one for you too or your loved ones. Do check my etsy store. And I'll make one for myself too- I promise.

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Most Embarrassing Moment

"In Art man reveals himself, not his objects"- Rabindra Nath Tagore

 My most embarrassing moment?

Then I have to rewind many years. Ready?  

I was seventeen. He was probably twenty two. We lived seven houses apart. One day, with my woman's intuition I kind of felt I've been watched.

One day when the door bell rang and   my mom opened the door, it was him.   He came to see my dad, to get some official paper signed, (at a certain position as a Govt Officer my dad had this authority)

"He'll come tomorrow again- he said , when your dad is home. This young man is a neighbor of ours, lives in ... is going to USA, so he needs those papers signed."

"Oh I see".  I went back putting the mascara meticulously. I hate clumps. In the mirror I noticed a faint smirk on me - hey my dad is not the only officer in town to sign that paper. But in the process I came to know his name. He goes to the same university where I go and yes it is the same house  that I suspected is where  he lives.

Several months passed. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of each other while passing each others house. For safety sake when I turn my head to make sure no cars are coming from behind, I see he has hopped from one veranda to another. Well I admit, I was caught several times doing the same thing too.

More months passed, nothing major happened other that hopping from one veranda to another.

That October, with my family I  went to a very beautiful place named Ghatshila. The vacation house we stayed in was the most beautiful one. It was right on top of the river Subarna Rekha. Translating Subarna Rekha will sound like-  the golden line. It was exactly that, especially at the dusk.

I found a friend there too. Her name was Anita. I call her, Unto. She was exactly six months older than me. Within days we opened our hearts to each other, shared our secrets, worries, knowledge about hush- hush things, film stars, movie songs and everything. We took long walks in the ripened rice fields and dipped ourselves in the cool river and had water fights.

Soon the Durga Puja and Diwali festivals were there. The beating of the drums, the lamps shining on the Goddess' face, the smell of incenses kind of transcended us spiritually. After our prayers Anita asked me, "Were you sure exactly what to pray?" I was .

"Silly you, what does a seventeen year six month know about life? Wait till you become eighteen! Besides, prayers only work when it is combined with action.What is your mode of action?"

I don't know.

"Send him a greeting card."

Now Ghatshila was not at all a place for cards. Besides, going shopping involves grown ups - too complicated.

"Make one."

We couldn't find any art material in that vacation house. She brought me an Inland post paper with a stamp on it and a terrible dot pen. The quality of the paper was so bad she suggested not to use ink.

Here is what is so embarrassing. I could have drawn a design or something. But I found my self finishing up with a bird  - kind of an ibis looking creature with a long beak and neck standing on one leg in a swamp. The reflection of other water plants are apparent. Now why on earth did I come up with that!

"Very good." Encouraged  Anita seriously. She must have worked hard hiding her laugh. "Now write whatever you want inside and  the address on the out."

I wrote- "Bijoya greetings." My name and my address in the inside.

After the letter was out of my hand, given to the mail man, I had the worst, most severe embarrassing feeling attack. Why did I listen to her? I was a shy, proud and reserved kind of person at that age.   That image shattered right in front of me every time I faced the mirror.

Now my new prayer is -let that letter be lost. The rest of the vacation was terrible  for me naturally. Unto could not figure out why I was getting so short tempered with her. At the end we even did not exchange addresses to keep in touch.

Several months past, nothing much happened other than hopping verandas.

On the seventh month through the grape vines I came to learn that he has gone to USA.

Good. I hope I can forget the whole thing quickly now, I started praying with my ears all red and hot.

Next October I got a post card- the sky line of New York city in dusk- as if this American city is all dressed up for Diwali. There was only one  line - " Greetings and Best wishes to you and your family." His name and his current address.

Five years  and about a hundred and some letters later, we became husband and wife and I came to USA.

Thirty five years later, we share the same life with two daughters  and a grand daughter and the same home.  Today right now, I  can see him  across the same room, stretched out on the lazy boy chair, the news papers on his lap,  and the afternoon sun is glistening  on his silver streaked temple.  As  I put the last crimp bead, I try to hide the memory of that embarrassing  day,oh  that silly ibis....

Some times I think of Unto.   Where is she?  How is her life? I lost all touch with her after she was married a year later I met her, when she was only nineteen.  It was an arranged marriage.

She does not know how embarrassed she made me one day  and also what a gift she had given!

The picture you see is taken from the train in 2010 - Passing Ghatshila 42 years later.

It's About Time

Let the Muse refuse
Just hold on to her shoes.

It happens.

You come up with a great idea. You can see part of it and you are so anxious to see the rest- how is it going to turn out when it is finished- but then something happens. You fail to grab the moment, the Muse leaves.

May be you just wanted a few more minutes to bask in the warm afternoon sun, on your soft couch and linger the cat-nap a wee bit more. When you wake up you find that your idea has faded.

Or, you got caught in a million of mundane things, washing the dishes, folding the laundry or wiping the kitchen counter top the 87th time. The inner child in you tugs you by the end of your clothes - please , o please, let's go and do it, let's get lost in the creative process. (I say let's because with in you exists more than one entity, You have a child self and a grown up one, who always scrutinizes and criticizes)

The child in you loves when she can lose herself in creating something. That is when she forgets about herself, her ego, the sense of time, or the fear if it is going to be a success or not. At that time there is only one thing- the process, the action or total concentration.

This is when time stands still even though the sun goes from the east to the west, from one end to the other over the horizon.

But who cares? It was a day well spent. Well worth living. You have gone through that experience and you know what it is.

Author Rice Freeman-Zachery in Creating Time and Space: Making Room for Making Art asks the readers in Chapter 1 - What exactly does "time" means to you? and then at one place comments "Dreams and ideas are timeless- you've felt that, waking up from a dream that lasted for weeks only to have the clock insist that you had slept for only half an hour."

So true.

We like it best when we can lose track of time like a child, but as a grown up we have lost it. We have learned the value of time. Understood how precious it is and how to spend it wisely!