Come December, it is time to rejoice. After Thanksgiving, it is Christmas. A time for jubilation, a time for gaiety. A season to love, a season to give. It is the time for kind deeds.

Fund raisers, charity bazaars, bake sales and concerts, these are many. Proceeds of which are showered on the less fortunate, gifts bestowed on the less privileged, with a generosity that befits the season.

Homes washed and painted afresh,tall Christmas trees unpacked and decorated to dazzle. Boughs of holly strung in hallways, the star hung over the entrance way, it’s twinkling light far reaching and beckoning, lending warmth to the winter night.

Nativity scenes fashioned most ingeniously, each more exquisite, so lifelike, you can well nigh hear, the cattle lowing . The sweet strains of angelic singing, by carol singers braving the cold, reminiscent of that glorious night, two thousand years ago.

The air filled with the aroma of baking of mouthwatering cakes and cookies. Dishes prepared with secret family recipes, passed down for generations. A culinary extravaganza at its best and the envy of most renowned chefs.

Family members from far and near, take a break from their hectic lives, come together for the season. Putting aside their disagreements , burying their differences, they gather to celebrate, the birth of The Prince of Peace .

Attending church, the midnight mass, a Christmas tradition that none will pass. Churches festooned with streamers and bright lights, throw open their doors to welcome all, as both,the devout and the doubtful flock in to worship the Lord of All Creation.

Followed by a day of feasting and fun, with the table laden heavy and creaking. The sound of laughter and merrymaking, cheerful chatter all around. Joy, peace and companionship, reigning everywhere, in all homes.

It is with some sadness we come, to the end of the Yuletide season. Returning to our busy existence, we soon forget those joyous moments. But deep within remains, the warmth of the blessed season, taking us through another year, until the next Christmas.

Through the festivities we learn, that the greatest gift of all is, not what comes wrapped or tied with a bow, but the happiness that stems from our selfless love for each other. We learn it is more gratifying to give, than it is to receive. Is this not the teaching of our Saviour Jesus Christ, whose birth we commemorate ?

It was not so long ago, that on the phone I heard, a voice from my past, my school girl days. A voice instantly recognised, with an invitation to join a whatsapp group, the Sophia girls batch of 1976.

With alacrity I accepted and am now the proud member of a lively group, where we share, stories, anecdotes of truants and escapades, that take us back four decades. Some still hair raising, some ever so hilarious.

Those school girl days, when we found pleasure in most every simple thing. When we laughed, there echoed, the laughter of many with ours. When we cried, our tears we shared and took refuge in each other .

We learnt to mind our Ps and Qs, to roll our Rs and to hold the H silent. Complicated sentences we mastered, with a flair for the punctuations. Held captive in some classes we abhorred, we learnt the art of exercising patience and diligence.

The mystery of the sciences were revealed, dry history and geography, brought alive. Languages with complex grammar compulsory, were all made simple and effortless by those dedicated teachers, to whom we owe our learning.

Time, not partial to us, stopped not but raced along ,quickly. While we perfected the curves, the concave, convex and the hour glass, we grew. As young ladies, we parted, bid farewell,to the school we loved and each other, to walk away into our future .

Now our reunions are graced, by those from different walks of life. Professionals, non professionals and homemakers, some from the highest echelons. But when we meet, the years just melt away. We are carefree girls again, our eyes brimming with love and laughter, we greet one another and relive those glorious days.

The friendships forged in school, is for a lifetime they say. The kinship we fashioned, the affinity, that took seed in our tender minds, magnified in our hearts, over those years together ,can never, ever be erased.

Thanking God for all the friends in my life 🙏

Times have changed, it’s hard on us , travel a luxury that we can no longer satisfy, for reasons of health restrictions or age limitations, financial restraints and other constraints.

Gone are the days of extensive planning , the days of buying tickets for road, rail or air travel . No more booking of hotels and resorts, or checking out the best possible deals. Picking out likely vacation spots, is an indulgence of the past .

Researching tours, cruises, expeditions, destinations for skiing, trekking or beautiful beaches. Designing and arranging that most perfect getaway, with family or friends, was always exciting as the travel itself.

Bound now as we are to our homes, the travel we make is down memory lane. Walking the beach at sunrise we recall, crossing a stream by a canoe we dream. Each picture we bring up, from the recess of our mind, of the many holidays of yore.

One, more enjoyable than the other, we remember them, those momentous times. Some with nostalgia, some with thrill, some with sadness , of what was and can never be again.

On this anniversary day, we relive, the experience of the idyllic trip we made, to the virgin beaches in kannur, to that quaint little resort tucked away, ensconced between the sea and the back waters. The sun and the sand our portion, laughter and good food our fortune, those magical two days.

Though we know not whether we will enjoy once more, the camaraderie we had on the trip, that special bonding amongst friends, that occurs on a vacation, yet we will always carry the joyous moments in our hearts and feel their companionship, when alone.

The much awaited Festival of Lights, is here again to brighten our days. Banishing the darkness that prevailed , that lay heavy on mankind.

Fairy lights like fireflies, lanterns, lamps, diyas and candles, all decked the streets and homes, blazing bright, lifting the pall of gloom that hung over us, these past several months .

Thronging crowds of shoppers, make those lonely streets lively afresh. With hawkers screaming their wares and the sound of shrill bargaining . Shops decorated with tinsel and flowers, windows displaying stylish couture and smart electronics, beckoning one and all, as people in a joyous frenzy, shop tirelessly.

Sweetmeats and savouries the favourite of many, offered to the gods in thankful supplication, for deliverance from a wicked reign, to welcome a new year of health and prosperity. Colourful hampers filled with delicacies, make their rounds as family and friends exchange gifts.

Children’s laughter, though hidden by the mask, filled the air with unbridled excitement, a familiar sound once more . The sparkle in their eyes, matching the sparklers they held, as they gathered to celebrate and their cheer knew no bounds .

The festival that is symbolic of crushing evil, eliminating darkness, has brought back to life, what seemed awhile, a dead society. Loud crackers, though far and few, heralding in the celebrations, reminding that hope has not abandoned us .

When God in His wisdom created the world, He first said ‘ Let there be Light’ and Life followed. Is not then Light the very essence of our existence, Light that brings new life, light that nurtures? The absence of which we know, is a certain fearful death.

We each have the light of life within, which we carry to brighten the world. With our simple acts of love and kindness we spread happiness, the glow that diminishes the power of evil. So let’s keep that light within, shining brighter than the darkness without .

Here’s wishing everyone a Happy Diwali

The book open, my eyes half shut, lost in mindless reverie I lay, when a distant rustling sound, disturbed my lazy afternoon, the one of many these days.

Looking up I see, a lone paper kite, tossing and turning in the sky, flying tethered to the end of a string, held remotely by a hand unseen.

His face brightly coloured and square, his tail a snapping streamer, fluttering with carefree abandon,the kite took delight in his freedom. The gentle breeze his companion, the wind beneath his wings .

He raced with the clouds, flew with the birds, his liberty knew no bounds and then he reached for the sun. He stretched and then he stretched again until there was a sharp and ripping sound.

Detached from the string, free from the remote hand unseen, the kite was ecstatic and soared to new heights . Until the wind changed its course and woe, the kite was tumbling down. No longer flamboyant, no longer flying high, he landed in a crumpled heap.

The little boy still holding the string ,rushed to save his kite. Looking on forlornly, he wondered, did he not craft him perfectly, to soar high ? Did he not guide him expertly, then why ? Was it not the boy’s folly to imagine, the kite in its flight would always remain,tethered to his string?

Much like the vagaries of our life, this. We nurture and watch our children grow. Giving them the best years of our lives, we hope to hold them close, forever . But too soon they break free, in search of their destiny.

Sometimes rising , sometimes failing, some to succeed, some to perish, while we watch on helplessly. But in faith we believe, though they stray far from us, their lives remain safe in the Hands of the Lord above.

We pray fervently, that in His love and mercy He will hold their future and guide them. That His grace will raise them, each time they fall, make them victors, not victims and when lost and lonely, His peace will lead them to a place of hope and tranquility,

I look in the mirror, who do I see ? Through a veil of distortion I glimpse, not me but one who looks like me . Why does the mirror deceive?

Where,I ask is the one who believed in fairy tales and happy endings? The one who was quick to jest, ready with a banter and smile, at even the most annoying?

The one who gazed at a falling star, made a wish that was close to her heart ? Where is the one who believed in magic and kissed the moon goodnight ?

Who, I ask, is this shadow of the past , with eyes that speak of lost hope ? Who is this parody of the one who was ? The answer, whispers the mirror, lies in the one you see .

The answer my friend, lies with each one of us . In our quest for empowerment, we turned into slaves of power . Reaching for goals laid down by others, we lost sight of our own . We buried the child within and watched our dreams fade away.

As we trudged the treacherous road to success, we lost our soul. We missed the gentle warmth of our homes, missed watching our children grow. Compensating with material gifts for the lonely lives.

We blamed our circumstances, our life but failed to see the fault in the choices we made. Disillusioned and unhappy we turned to cynicism as a way of life and we strayed from our faith.

We missed the simple pleasures of life, to soak up the sun, to dance in the rain, to lie beneath the stars. To talk to the trees, to sing with the breeze. Instead we seek entertainment and companionship in the digital world.

It’s time then to cease, this empty existence and rekindle our spiritual self. Seek out the child within, recreate the beauty of life. Let’s break free of the fear of failure, rejection and start to dream again.

Let’s learn to walk with angels, believe in miracles. Let’s learn to love fiercely, those dear to us, cherish our friends and value relationships. Let’s choose happiness once again.

Living in times when hope is lost, in darkness where even the light is dark and the very beauty of creation is hidden. A terrible scourge has set in. Call it a pestilence, call it a plague or just the virus but it is here to stay .

The loud cries of lamentation, the outcry and outpouring of rage, the incessant chatter on social media, against this sudden outbreak, have all subsided, in our effort to cope with this fearful and deadly tormentor.

Ardent prayers to the gods for relief, have abated as we accept our situation. Our grief now muted we tend our sick and bury our dead in numbers untold. Resigned we are to a life of anxiety, as we face the uncertainty ahead .

With the crash of the world economy, industries and businesses closing down, many are rendered homeless and without gainful employment. Through a veil of bleak stoicism, we steer forward with fortitude.

The pall of despair is palpable as we see the daily numbers climb, of both the infected and the fatalities. Are we poised on the brink of a revolution, or evolution or is it going to be extinction? The answers we know not as each day we witness change, a new way of life .

Notwithstanding this terrible plight, our young will not concede defeat. Determined they are to fight this curse. Donning the new attire of a mask and sheath, as warriors they have taken the lead, leaving the elderly safe at home .

When the evil powers of the cosmic world, unleashed this new brand of affliction, to vanquish to annihilate human life, they failed to reckon with the indomitable spirit of mankind. There is no suppressing, no extinguishing, our desire to survive .

To the virus we say, share our habitat you will awhile but soon leave when you realise, that we cannot be destroyed ! For through the cracks in the dismal gloom, the life giving Divine Light still shines, to heal to restore and renew .

Oh, but what then do we say to this scourge that has plagued us from time immemorial? Crimes of lust against hapless women,daily ravaged and killed ? Is it not time to rid society of this abomination? Or, should not we just face extinction, rather than live in apathy, ignoring these heinous misdeeds, letting it grow unchecked ?

The ladies in green all in a row, smiling radiantly, greet each morning. Some holding their exotic bounty, others shyly revealing the bouquet to come .

Colours most vibrant they are, bursting forth with exuberance, the reds and pinks the dominant ones. In their midst one holds out, the beautiful dancing dolls

Dressed in blazing yellow skirts, with matching tops and hats, their arms outstretched, on their toes they stand, ready to pirouette, to the rhythm of the misting drops.

The lovely, graceful phalaenopsis, hold large moth sized blooms, some pale with double colours, others bright and royal purple. Laughing and swaying they are, a sight most pleasing to the eye .

The ladies they call the cattleyas, looked on with great pride. Carefully holding their babies close, lest they fall and break their necks. The colours white stained with pink, red ,gold and orange, the cynosure of all eyes.

The tall hibiscus not to be outdone, shone bright pink on stems slender. The rose smiled haughtily, confident as the queen of the garden. The jasmine though small and white, stood tall and lent its sweet fragrance.

The fiery colours of the bougainvillea, though covered with thistle and thorn, can never be captured by paint or lens. The frangipani added its brilliant red, to this garden on my terrace. My little haven filled with peace, where nature’s beauty converges, where life abounds and yet serene, is my retreat, my sanctuary.

Gazing around I wonder, what is this magic of the garden, that uplifts the spirit, heals the soul and fills us with a sense of well-being? Did not even Jesus in his agony, choose the solace of a garden to pray to his Heavenly Father ? The answer, perchance lies in the fact, that man was created for a garden – Eden. Perhaps we still yearn for that lost paradise and find comfort in a garden.

Time does govern all men, Dictates our lives, our days on earth, Marks our milestones, writes our timeline, For the different stages of our lives, Leaving us bereft of all control.

Time cares not for our plans, But makes its own for each. Steals what we hold most precious, Our moments of joy and glory, And leaves us holding the worthless, The sad and the lonely.

The golden rays of our lives at sunrise, Soon turn to dim shadows of sunset. Change creeps upon us silently, With the stealthy passage of time, Like a thief in the dead of night, To catch us unawares.

Sometimes racing, sometimes naught, Time has a season for everything. A season to laugh a season to cry, A season to love and to bid goodbye. Does time then wield power over our lives, Or is it just a myth we created?

We know not what lies ahead, Nor the past can we alter. Moments they come and they go, Like the shifting sands on the seashore, With each wave we lose them, To the vast nothingness of time .

Like a relentless, runaway train, Time whisks us along life’s journey. With no stop at favourite spots, Nor hastening away in our despair, But suffer we must each moment,excruciatingly.

Then I hear a voice within say, “Lament not the by gone days, For they will remain in your hearts, Forever as cherished memories. Dread not the pain of suffering, For it will fade in the endless flow of time.”

Hope, a fragile word, a gentle kiss, A loving clasp, an encouraging word. It’s the voice of heaven,like a whisper, Light as a feather it touches our hearts, In moments of deep despair, With the promise of new beginnings.

Hope is the first breath of the morning, The dew drops on the unfolding flower. The call of the bulbuls, the answering finches, The gentle breeze in the rustling leaves, Nature’s beauty and all creation, Celebrating the birth of a new day .

Hope is the roll of the white tipped waves, Frolicking with the rise and ebb of tide. The white snow topped mountains, Reflecting the first rays of the sun, The clear waters of the stream, Dancing down the steep incline .

Hope is the smile of the silver moon, The shimmering stars in a sky stretched dark, Hinting at yet another dawn . It is the first cry of each new life, The wrinkled face of the wise old man .

Hope smiles through our tears, Laughs at our fears, our doubts. Helps us to rise after each fall, Whispering of second chances, To live each day with the renewed, Hope of a better tomorrow.