Fasting is considered a form of Tapas, where one practices self-restraint, purification, and spiritual discipline to transcend physical desires and cultivate inner strength. The Sanskrit word for fasting, Upavāsa literally means “dwelling near” or “staying close”—specifically, staying close to the Divine through austerity (Tapas), meditation, and self-discipline. What comes to mind is “Nearer, My God, to Thee”.
I like to visit an old European city in the early morning hours, before the hum-drum of life, the noise of the vehicles, and the throngs of people pour in. It is a ritual that I am compelled to undertake at least one or two mornings during my travel. With no semblance of modern life – either visual or aural, and surrounded entirely with historic architecture – Classical, Gothic, Renaissance, Neo-Gothic, Baroque, it is possible to imagine myself as a time-traveler – albeit from a safe distance; Christianity and especially Catholicism was not known to be kind to Pagans in the 15th century!
Every year millions of people visit this Casa di Giulietta or Juliet’s House, families tour the house, lovers kiss on the famous balcony, single people touch the breast of the Juliet statue believed to bring luck in love. And they leave letters – thousands of letters – for Juliet, sharing their own heart’s yearnings, desires, heart-breaks and love-stories. Juliet, who lived a mere 14 year old in the Bard’s story has in death become a matriarch, a grande dame, a symbol to keep alive one’s faith in finding true love. Visiting Casa De Giuletta has become a pilgrimage.
Hike” Zack ordered, and the dogs obeyed, moving so fast that our bodies lurched backward then forward, as the dogs made their way up and down the snowy hill. “Gee”, “Haw , “Easy” went Zack; simple commands that a musher gives his dogs to turn right, left or slow down. Huskies don’t like to slow down, huskies love the snow and the cold and the speed.
How do we honor the life of a man who did the hardest work of all – his refusal to dehumanize his opponent, when many of us, may I dare say, most of us, at this very moment are dehumanizing someone in our own hearts; someone we don’t agree with, someone whose lifestyle we cannot stand, someone whose politics we abhor.
I was a peculiar child. I didn’t care for gifts or toys or clothes or sweets or anything of the sort. What I wanted most was stories – hearing them, reading them, and later watching them in the form of movies. I hadn’t the slightest idea then that one day I will be writing them.
he power of myth lies in its ability to communicate complex, profound ideas in a way that resonates on an emotional and spiritual level. Myths endure when they tap into universal truths and human experiences. And this myth from India has endured thousands of years and is still a living experience for hundreds of millions of people.
For Didi’s birthday night, I had planned a very special trip to the top of the Mauna Kea. The tallest mountain in the world when measured from its base, which is deep beneath the ocean. From its base on the ocean floor to its peak, it rises over 33,500 feet making it taller than Mount Everest. Measured from its base above sea level to its summit it is almost 14,000 feet. The most famous thing about Mauna Kea is due to its high elevation, clear skies and lack of atmospheric distortion, it is home to the world-renowned astronomical observatories and the home of the powerful keg telescopes.
We reached the opening. And stood spell-bound. In front of us was Hessian Lake – nestled at the base of Bear Mountain that was awash in brilliant hues of gold, orange, and red. Its reflection in the lake-water formed a perfect mirror, doubling the fiery splendor of the foliage. The stillness of the water enhanced the symmetry, and the scene felt like a painting, with the vibrant colors of fall blending into the soft blue sky above. The sun was jusssst coming up.
“Houston, we have a problem”, said Didi; which means elder-sister in Hindi. In this case, MY elder sister, was in the passenger seat while I was driving our 2000 Dodge Neon. We were on the Interstate I-80 somewhere in the middle of New Jersey. It was 1st of July 2004 and we were in the midst of another big move of our lives.
“Mummy, Dada! I came top in my class of 800! Are you proud of me?”, the message pops up on my phone.
Mark texted back effortlessly, “yes proud of you – and missing you – love Dada”. I wrote, “ummm…only a little bit” with lots of naughty emojis. Later I confess to Mark – I didn’t know how to properly respond to Sophie’s question. Mark asks me why.
And I find myself breaking into tears.
“Your daughter is the best thing that ever happened to my son.” Mark’s dad said as he shook my father’s hand. “She is just marvelous. You must be so proud of her.” he added. My father looked surprised, confused, mystified. He appeared to be at a loss of words; my father is never at a loss of words. One thing he didn’t appear was proud.
“You must be so proud of your dad”, the lady in the dazzling white sari said at the award ceremony. “He is a very smart man. Are you as smart as he is?” she asked me. “I am.” I answered without missing a beat, I was 9 years old. This evoked laughter among the adults around me. “She is your daughter indeed, Srivastav”, the lady said to my father with a chuckle. My father smiled benevolently at me, neither acknowledging nor refuting my statement. Maybe he thought I was as smart as he was. Or maybe not.
But we were sure – Mark & I – that we wanted to adopt. We looked into adoption, even international adoption – from India – and all of it felt like a tedious, bureaucratic affair that took years out of one’s life.
The Jazz Club we were at, is called Reduta. It is located in Prague, which is the capital city of Czech Republic, and which is where I was exactly one month ago.
