A friend from  my bible study group called to inform that I needed to prepare for an upcoming session of praise and worship, with a testimony based on my learning from the study of Isaiah chapters 1-28 . Not having attended many classes there was not much I could contribute. All I remembered is that it was the prophecy of judgement, condemnation and restoration, first few chapters targeted at the enemies of Israel and then against Israel & Judah . 

Wondering what I could speak about, there came to mind my experience of a few days ago. The married women in South India,wear a symbol of their martial status called the thali or the minnu,  a consecrated pendant which the groom ties around the bride’s neck, during the wedding ceremony. It comes in various shapes, has much significance and  amongst the Christians it is a tiny pendant with a Cross mounted on it. 

Yesterday, I suddenly noticed my minnu was missing from my chain around my neck. The chain was intact the clasp firmly closed and yet the minnu was missing . The first emotion was disbelief, then came fear, followed by a disquiet that settled in, at this mysterious disappearance of this treasured pendant of much significance. Was it an ill omen, a sign of some impending danger to my family or me, did it spell disaster for my marriage of 37 years ? 

Then began the frantic search to retrieve the pendant, to restore stability to my disturbed state of mind. I thought, if only I can find it, even the broken pieces, my family and my life would continue to remain safe and secure. Troubled by the thoughts of what could be the meaning of this strange occurrence, I spent a sleepless night . In the morning, our last study of Isaiah ch 28 verse 16 came to mind, reminding that my faith and trust should be in Jesus our foundation and not blessed amulets or totems . 

Why was I so obsessed with finding the consecrated pendant, which no doubt had great sentimental value but can offer me no protection as so clearly described in Isaiah 28:20 ? Why had I been in such despair, when all I had to do was turn to the God Who consecrated the pendant, Who blessed my marriage, gave me a family and brought us thus far? Surely I need not rest my faith in religious rituals and attach great meaning to worldly beliefs, nor look for assurance in the created things, but rely on my Creator. 

Once this dawned on me, quickly on its heels, came the verse of hope and restoration from Isaiah 1:18. My God has promised to forgive my sins, if I repent and return to Him and He will never leave me nor forsake me as long as I hold on to Him . In this knowledge I will rest through the thick and thin of my life . 

Woke up in the morning, to the sound of crashing waves, full of eagerness to start the day, by witnessing another sunrise on the beach . Rushing through my basic ablations, I did not remember it was my birthday, until I saw the first greeting on the ever present WhatsApp. 

To catch the sunrise seemed to grow in significance, as I dashed to the beach, for to watch it rise would be the same as a new beginning. I was out of the door on an adrenaline rush, my dog not far ahead and my husband trailing behind. We reached the beach at the appointed time, but the rising sun was still hidden, below the cloudy red tinged horizon. 

Walking along the beach, watching the sea gulls swooping down for an early catch, listening to the  rhythm of the white foamed waves, as they came in to embrace me awhile, my heart was overflowing with gratitude for God’s amazing grace . The sun did not disappoint me, for he soon peeped above the horizon, the red tint turning into a round ball of fire . 

His golden rays like fingers of light crept out, extending above the cloud, and everything it touched was soon bathed in a golden light . It was as if in the darkness of the night, he was renewed and rose mightier , with a stronger light . The waves danced in delight, their tips whiter than before, their swell higher and their splash further, welcoming the rising sun , and the birds sang with joy, as they flew around in his renewed brightness. 

Bathed  in the warm glow of the sun, I felt light at heart as the darkness dissipated, cleansed from all negativity, this here on my birthday. Feeling like a new person. freshly minted, my troubles seemed so far away, my worries not here to stay, and with each new caress of the waves, I felt renewed in strength and vitality.  

I know problems will not disappear , but with a change in perspective I can deal with life’s challenges with a renewal of my spirit . I have learnt that, leaning not on my strength but on God the Creator of heaven and earth, I can soar high on the wings of eagles, above the worst of my circumstances. So with love and gratitude, I thank each one of you, for your blessing and birthday wishes today.

The winds of change waft around us permeating  our lives and homes, moving stealthily, bringing constant change, sometimes noticeable, sometimes inconspicuous , sometimes taking us quite by surprise, but always stealing our familiarity, bringing about unfamiliarity, and uncertainty. At times a welcome change at times a hurdle to face, but a new way of life it brings, certainly. 

Each day we wake up not knowing what  is in store for us. Be it a warm sunny day or a blustery rainy day , will it be a day filled with warmth, love and laughter or filled with anxiety, worry and disappointment ? Yesterday is gone and with it all it’s joy and sadness, tomorrow may or may not come, but we still hope ardently, for all good things, and dream of better times ahead . 

Every moment leaves , closing doors that never can be opened again, moments that cannot be revisited, to alter to correct or reshape. We leave behind our past, propelled forward through changing times, and walk into the unknown with concern and eagerness. The battles of yesterday, may be the same today, but the means and skills we adopt to overcome, will be the difference, the change. 

Our family is the same, our home is the same, our circumstances are the same, and yet we are filled with renewed hope, at new beginnings. At the end of each year, after the unceasing celebrations, we hang up our dancing shoes and welcome the dawn of another new year. With poignant sadness, we reflect on our past  and greet the new year with mixed feelings of joy and apprehension . 

We cherish the history of our past and romanticise the bygone days, erasing the memories of hardships faced. We look forward to the mystery of the future with concern and anticipation. Notwithstanding the passing of time, the unpredictability of what lies ahead, we make new goals with lofty expectations, and ambitious plans with unreserved hope for a future that may not be ours . 

One moment to the next we live as creatures of habit, chasing our dreams, our jumbled lives, at the hands of a fickle fate that most often than not, thwarts our well laid plans, and allows not our goals to be achieved. Inspite of our failures, inspite of the steadily flowing time, we live with renewed hope at the dawn of each new day which we know will end, quickly, bringing to a close another day . 

Each moment that goes by, leaves behind an emptiness, a vacuum that is quickly filled with the next . Maybe a treasured moment, maybe a moment of despair, but even in our darkest hour we can be sure of its passing quickly , making way for new moments of light and peace. Everyday that goes by, we learn nothing is permanent or here to stay , and we draw closer to the end, with each new season. 

So we tend to live, in constant changing times, one moment to the next, through joys and sorrows,through ups and downs, until our time here ends. We are here a while and then gone, leaving behind an emptiness till it is filled, thoughts of us fading , and we remain just a wrinkle in the memory of those living on, an insignificant grain in the sands of time. 

Her voice is the first you hear as you enter into this world. Her crooning lullaby, lulls your fears as you slip into angelic dreams, her voice filled with laughter, brings the first smile to your lips, her voice stills your restlessness, erases all discomfort, as you settle down to rest.  Yet you hear her voice crying in a wilderness of pain as she seeks relief, in her affliction. 

Her voice I hear, as a sister to her siblings, considerate and  kind hearted. Her voice I hear, as a lover, warm and tender, her voice I hear as a friend, solicitous and ready to lend a hand, her voice I hear as a pleasing member of the community , quick to serve others.  Then I hear her voice, weeping in despair, as she drowns in oppression. 

Her voice I hear as a doctor, a nurse tending to the sick, her voice I hear powerful, controlling million dollar enterprises , her voice I hear melodious and mellifluous, singing, entertaining audiences across the world, her voice I hear strong and fearless, advocating the law, fighting for equality and then I hear her voice weak and timid as she struggles against her discrimination. 

Her voice I hear calling out for love, raised against  tyranny and despotism, against abuse and persecution, her voice just a whimper, straining to be heard above the suppression.I hear her vulnerable voice , seeking  retribution against atrocities committed, fighting for her unfortunate sisters, abused ,cast aside, her fading voice whispering, keeping alive the memories of those trampled to the ground . 

So when will we hear that voice, when will we see the struggle cease ? When will we save our girls, who have lost their voice ? When will we see the dawn of a new day and hear that voice, above a whisper ? For until then, we are all in the same oppressive darkness, we will all remain unheard. Let’s make a start to right the wrong of age old beliefs and customs, let’s strive to hear the weaker, neglected voice .

After the splendid 3 nights in Pondicherry, the three friends returned to their separate homes, and to what awaited them . They cared not though, for rejuvenated they felt, ready to take on the challenges that life held for each . 

Their minds playing again and again,from the start to the finish, the trip they had just completed. It was in September, that the thought took seed, a weekend away with classmates, to a beach resort not far from home . 

There were no takers except for three, who set out to plan, in the hope that more would join eventually. But the number remained three, and most were sure, we would not go ahead. But undeterred, ‘go’ we did and it will be a memory to hold close till the very end. A noteworthy point , the three from different backgrounds, from different life styles and religions, finding a common ground on this their adventure. 

On a Thursday morning we set out by road, the three stooges, with a hired driver. We started out, not so early as  there was no where to be in a hurry. The congestion on the road didn’t bother us, the dust didn’t trouble us for we were on a holiday and nothing could detract from the excitement of leaving behind our dreary and monotonous daily routine, and the anticipation of the vacation ahead . With each mile, we went further from our ordinary , closer to the extraordinary, that awaited us . 

There were many pictures taken, at the start and every turn . Once we left Bangalore, the roads were no longer clogged and the ride was smooth, through verdant green scenery through rocky hillocks, and the only passersby we met, were the monkeys that waved us through. The sky though cloudy, held up and there was no rain . Not stopping for lunch or tea, we drove on to Pondicherry, until we reached  .

Our first halt was at a cafe, and after a snack, we checked into our hotel . Leaving quickly thereafter , as we did not want to lose any time, off we went to the beach . The experience of walking the promenade, the wind in our hair, the cool breeze on our, the sound of rolling waves, rushing in to tarry awhile, then quickly receding when they met rocky ground, the moon that hung low guided by the bright north star. 

The tourists were everywhere, their chatter in strange languages, a reminder they were far from home . The twinkling lights of the eateries that lined the waterfront, advertising their delicacies were oh so inviting and hard to resist. The picturesque walk down promenade road, in perfect companionship, will remain inscribed in our minds, and etched in our hearts, for a lifetime.  

After dinner at a fine dining restaurant, we turned in for the night, though it was young .  Being weary from the road trip and with nothing much to do , we went to bed and woke up late next morning . Needless to add, our plan to rise early to watch the sunrise, fell through. But galvanised by restful sleep and a healthy breakfast, we set out to see the sights. Taking in the meditation centre, shopping for chocolates and cookies, an evening boat ride through the mangrove, to the remains of the ancient Arikamedu fort,  the day went by quickly. 

Evening saw us setting out for dinner, to a popular destination, the Coromandel restaurant. Indulging in their sea food gastronomy, we returned to sleep like babies, another night . Determined not to miss the sunrise again, we were up bright and early the next morning. Donning our skimpy attire, purchased for just this purpose, we were at the beach to enjoy the sunrise and the waves that washed over our feet.

The sea air worked up an appetite in us and we found the much recommended Surgutu restraunt for a breakfast fit even for the most discernible palate . Once breakfast was done, there was not much to do but to rest awhile before stepping out for some shopping. Looking at handbags, and street wares , embroidered sheets, and patisseries at the bakery, we spent the afternoon. 

Our next stop before the evening was the ashram, the samadhi, where we had to enter bare feet and maintain total silence. Our final stop was Paradise beach, to view the sunset, the stunning pink skies, slowly turning dark with the setting sun. Too soon the sun went down, a sad moment it was, as we bid farewell to the sea and sand , farewell to the last night of our brief freedom from the mundane that we had left behind. 

Dinner at a well known restaurant, quickly raised our spirits and we made the most of the night. Breakfast next morning was simple and we started out early as we were packed and ready. The journey back was less cheerful, until we reached Ambur for the famous Star Biryani . Needless to say, we had a scrumptious lunch and settled to enjoy the ride back home . 

It was a holiday, too brief yet just right , a long weekend away from home, trying to rediscover our childhood. Baring our hearts to each other, tracing back to where we left our dreams behind . As we encouraged one another, we were certain we could cast away our fears, reclaim our dreams, and weave new ones. Above all, we discovered within us, the precious childlike innocence we thought was lost, to enjoy the smallest of adventures. 

Enlightenment, a state of mind much sought after by man, from the beginning of time. Searching for the elusive truth, turning into a righteous being, to move from darkness to breathtaking light, to become one with the supreme source of life, that which reveals the beauty within, that which enriches the soul with positive forces and subdues the negative . 

Enlightenment can be to some, the strength wielded, the success achieved, the cleverness employed to outsmart adversaries. To some, it is the knowledge to amass wealth, to master the special skills available, to overcome challenges. To others, it is the power to resist aggression, to remain calm ,in the face of every trial. 

Enlightenment may be, the peace we enjoy, the empathy we have, to perceive the needs of others. To cry with those who are sad, to rejoice with those who are happy, to embrace those who are scorned, and fulfill the needs of the least of our brothers. It could be, the practice of impartiality, to be just , to mediate fairly in any skirmish, or walk away to maintain equanimity, without taking sides . 

Enlightenment can be the practice of patience, never to react to any situation in haste, never to take an act of  kindness for granted.  It could be the ability to encourage those who are struggling, to dissuade those stepping the path of destruction. It may be the practice of humility, to maintain amity, to accede to your opponent, even when they are wrong, or to accord victory to the one least deserving, for the sake of tranquility . 

As we seek enlightenment earnestly , the truth eludes us . Is it the knowledge of our purpose in this world ? Is it the ability to love unconditionally, to sacrifice self for the good of others , the ability to acknowledge, even the smallest being is greater than us? Is it to be able to forgive those who wrong us, to forgive self of unworthy actions ? Is it self denial and meditation on lofty mountains, in total isolation?

Grappling with these many thoughts I realise the answer is quite simple, lies before us in all its entirety. Enlightenment is nothing but the acceptance of our life as a gift and our circumstances as the will of God, to live experiencing both pleasure and pain, with gratitude in our hearts . Enlightenment can come to us only by living in the presence of the Light, the Almighty, diminishing self, exalting God, thus finding the peace that surpasses all else, in this world .

Once I was a sister, to a little girl oh so lovely ! She was the brightest star in our lives, filling our home with love and laughter. Always caring, she put not her needs first, but tended to that of others. Never a harsh word passed her lips, whatever the provocation, never she did lose her patience, even in the face of the worst aggravation. Once I was a sister to an angel who walked the earth awhile , until the gods turned jealous, and took away the light of our lives . 

Once I was a daughter, to a doting father , a fine man with integrity, who worked selflessly for the welfare of his family. A father who saw, only the finest in me, as he did in everyone. A father who never lost his faith in his darling daughter, even when she failed and fell far short of expectation. A father who with pride recounted even my small accomplishments, to any who stopped to listen. Once I was a daughter to a father who never saw, beyond his love for his children, until the day he was called to heaven, much too quickly.

Once I was a daughter, to a mother who was strong yet gentle, a mother who taught her children, especially her daughters to be fearless and self sufficient, to stand up for our rights, and never to buckle under oppression . A mother who pursued her career, without compromising her home, proving to us, that the one need not be sacrificed, for the other. Once I was a daughter to a mother who was kind and gracious to all, a mother who taught us the power of prayer and a spiritual life. A mother who was the mainstay of my existence , until that wretched day, she was snatched away from this world. 

Once I was a little sister to a brother, one most  considerate, and never tyrannical. Ready to lend a hand to all, he bore no ill will to any who crossed him, but walked away with dignity from conflicts, to maintain peace. Once I was a little sister to a brother who was dealt a hard hand by life, and though hurt and rejected by the ones he loved the most, he never did resent or lose faith in people. Comfort he seldom sought, complain he never did, to spare us heartache and agony . Then one day came the grim reaper, to claim his life along with that of others, and I was left alone, orphaned.

Now I live, with a remanent of each of them, a part they left behind, the memory of a life that was, and my consolation is their recognisable traits in me. I am now a wife to a husband, who is loving and understanding, helping me in all my endeavours, except those hare brained ones . Am a mother to two wonderful children, who are no less dutiful, and for now, I am the centre of their being . My faults they overlook, my shortcomings they tolerate amiably. My fervent prayer each day is , Lord, let me remain a loyal wife to my husband, a caring mother to my children, until my dying day .

For many years I had a passion for orchids, loved them, nurtured them, spent endless hours tending to them, and watched them grow, with great pride . Each time a floral spike came up, I waited with much anticipation to see the splendid bloom. 

Then as time went by, my interest dwindled and the orchids were neglected. They wilted and waned, one by one, and over the years faded away . Sad, you may say, but I realised, things that demanded too much attention, is really not worth the time . 

One day when out on a stroll, I saw a plant on the wayside. It was no exotic orchid or any fancy flower, but just a simple, robust begonia, displaying its brilliant colours.  Fascinated, I requested a small cutting and carried it home . Planting it in a couple of small pots, I did not expect it to propagate. 

But today, I am amazed to see the abundance of this lovely, yet humble plant. With not much ministration , except daily watering, the plant had grown in spectacular profusion, its colours brilliant and riveting. There were no frequent supplements to support it, nor any special care, but that didn’t deter the plant from growing vibrantly .

Then came to mind the moral of the story ,an allegory. The orchids are like the treasures of this world that we chase in the pursuit of happiness , which is hard to attain, and we soon see the futility. With the passage of time, we realise ,that it is not the worldly, but the Spiritual blessings that are constant, and it comes to us easily, when we choose to lead a life in the presence of the Almighty. 

My memory of those train journeys, is the beautiful scenery. The rolling hills, the thick wooded sides, the verdant green paddy fields, the half naked children lining the tracks to wave goodbye, the colourful birds that flew by or swooped down for a drink of water as we passed rivers and streams . 

Vacations and train journeys, a memorable part of our childhood days . Come the summer holidays, and we looked forward with great excitement, to the overnight train journey, to visit grandparents. Preparations for the travel were many, from school concessional pass to packing the suitcases with clothes and other essentials. 

Not to mention the bedding that was rolled to a compact size, an elaborate hold all, filled with all that we needed, for a comfortable night on the train. Food and snacks a great part for the journey received much attention, a week long preparation, and the night meal a steamed banana leaf packaged delight, for each one of us . 

Living close to a railway station, the train whistles lent to our anticipation, as we counted down the days to our travel and when it finally dawned, there was no containing our excitement .Leaving home, ensuring everything is locked and secure during our absence, caused a brief moment of anxiety in the adults.  Transport to the station was always a cramped ride, which did not deter our eagerness. 

Closing my eyes, I can even now see the hustle and bustle of the station. People from all over, from the north, from the south, from the east,  and the midwest. The colourful clothes, and the different tongues they spoke, oh it was a melting pot of culture, with everyone rushing to get somewhere. Crowded stalls, selling hot and cold beverages, chocolates and biscuits, newspapers and books, vendors carrying baskets, calling out their wares and of course, the frequent announcements of the arrival and departure of trains, over the tannoy . 

We were soon surrounded by several red jacketed porters, offering to carry our luggage. Finally deciding on one, my father would relinquish the luggage and herd us along as he followed the trotting porter to the designated spot . My mother, bringing up the rear, seemed quite harried and warned us frequently, to stay close and clear off of the edge of the platform, and when a train thundered past or the crowd got too dense, I would grab my father’s hand, for fear of b being swept away.

On the train, after the initial scramble to find our berth and after a fight for the window seats, we settled down quickly, to enjoy the ride . The changing landscape was captivating, buildings giving way to shrubs and trees , the congestion of the city, giving way to open countryside, and the colours of a lovely sunset on the horizon, as it was evening . Not much later, the sky darkened, and night fell. Tearing ourselves away from the window, we then played board games . 

Dinner was an enjoyable meal, though it was the everyday fare, and yet,  maybe because it was packed in steamed banana leaves, or eaten on a moving train, it tasted like a gourmet meal . Sleeping to the sound of the clickity clack of the wheels, rocked by the gentle rhythm of the train, snug in our warm bedroll, is an unforgettable memory. Morning brought the usual rush of ablutions, before breakfast at the next long stop . 

After breakfast, back we went to the windows to watch the changing scenery , the rolling hills and the changing foliage, tall palm trees, luscious green paddy fields with toiling women and children who stopped to wave as the train went by, children with whom we felt a momentary connection, as we waved back and smiled . The rivers that snaked along beside the train, the occasional cormorant, and kingfisher, swooping down to catch a fish. Looking down into the swirling waters of wide rivers, while crossing on long bridges, we felt a tremor of fear at its sinister depths.

As the day advanced, it got very hot but that didn’t bother us . The bogey was crowded, with a crush of humanity as people boarded at each station. The heat was stifling and the air was thick with the stale smell of sweat . To add to the discomfort, there were beggars and vendors, boarding at each station, begging for food or selling food, and jumping off just before the train moved . Not pleasant for the adults, but the children were unruffled. Going through pitch black tunnels, was a terrifying experience and I was quick to grab my father’s hand, when it was the blackest.

Finally arriving at our destination, we were met by our uncle , who quickly whisked us home. The  lunch that awaited us, was fit for a king, setting the trend for our vacation . The simple joy of plucking fruits and vegetables from the garden, boat rides, and rowing in the canoes, the long hours spent fishing in the backwaters, bathing in the shallow waters , running alongside the river or just playing on its sandy banks, brought us untold happiness. It was like slice of heaven, a piece of which we still carry in our hearts . 

Looking back I think, life is much like a train journey. Our childhood is the preparation, for the journey we are to undertake . When we embark on the ride, there are joys and sorrows, ups and downs, seasons of trouble and suffering. When we feel hope is nothing but a mirage, let us cling to our Heavenly Father, as we clung to our earthly fathers, as children . We can focus on the simple joys, to help alleviate pain, learn to live without attachments, knowing, the travel is not permanent but a short sojourn that passes quickly, before we reach our eternal destination. 

It is another anniversary, another day of mourning. Many long years since and still there are those special days that bring relentless memories of a tragedy, of one who passed, memories that can’t be erased by time. You would think the pain is forgotten, imagine it has faded with the passage of years , but it is just waiting beneath the surface , to rear its ugly head .  

Time the great healer is helpless, though it removes the edge , it is powerless to blot out the sting of sorrow. It can bury the past, but not the pain, which like a shadow follows our path. Sometimes at a distance, sometimes close, sometimes just one with us, a part of us to never let go, and there is no escaping the misery that follows .

Oh pain, from whence do you arise, to haunt us day and night ? Are you a punishment for our sins, for the carelessness of our youth ? Sometimes physical, caused by illness ravaging the body, destroying the very cells ,sometimes mental, the agony of the mind, from bereavement or loss, from disappointment or rejection, from a broken heart or loneliness. 

Is there no defence against your savage attack, is there no shield against your viscous assaults ? Is there no cover beneath which we can hide, or find sanctuary from your ruthless tentacles ? Is there no balm, no comfort, is there no healing, no end to the suffering, once we are trapped in your clutches? How then can we insulate ourselves from your pitiless perseverance ? 

Day and night you haunt us, with brief interludes of respite, when to us is shown what life could be, without your influence. Wallowing in self pity, blaming the stars and our fate, consumed by an intense sense of being enslaved, we live with no hope of release from your miserable prison ? Are we to suffer in silence, are we to befriend you, are we to walk with you, all the days of our life ? 

Oh, but not anymore, for I have found the Way ! I have learnt to rise above the pain, above time that is keeping me imprisoned. I have learnt to fix my eyes on the Most High, and my sorrow is halved, for He shares it with me . I strive to walk the path He has ordained, and know for sure, His Way does not include bondage, but freedom from all that condemns ! Now I can say with conviction, pain is losing its grip on me .