Oh tears, from where do you spring, from where do you come, unbidden? Be it in sadness or happiness, in hopelessness, frustration or relief. Teary times or weary times, you always appear on cue .

When in dismay, distress or distraught, you pour out to wash away our hurt. Happy times or tragic times, glorious moments or dishonourable ones, when we rejoice or when we mourn, you are certain to flow.

Grief takes many a form, a broken heart, a wounded one, be it that of a man or a woman. The furious tears of a bawling child, copious tears of an anguished heart. You measure our agony, our ecstasy, to gush in torrents,spill in rivulets, or just fall in a sad trickle .

Can you perceive the euphoria of a woman, holding her new born baby or fill the vast ocean with the endless tears of a grieving mother,? Can you fathom the sorrow of bereavement, judge the thrill of a major conquest or gauge the misery of bitter failure ?

Can you ease our pain or heighten our pleasure ?Are you a remedy, or a salve, to heal our emotions ? Are you bitter on the face of the poor, sweet on the face of the rich? Do you spare the young and punish the old, by being their constant companion ?

To the one who holds our tears I pray, be gentle with those who can cry no more, kind to the lonely and the defenceless. For our children, favour I pray, have mercy on them. If possible, let them weep not tears of anguish but that of jubilation and victory

It is my birthday, special it is they say, but it is just another day. Rising in the morning ,not to pealing bells but the strident alarm, as everyday .

No blazing comet in the sky ,just the rising sun. No singing telegram, but the whistling kettle and the chirping birds. Oh it’s just another ordinary day.

So what is it that makes it special? The love and best wishes,from family and friends alike. Remembered by those near and far. From obscurity into the limelight I step, on this my birthday.

With the passing time, in the year gone by, have learnt that ordinary is just as special and to be enjoyed . Yesterday is no more, tomorrow may never be, but each day I cherish and make it special .

Above all I thank the Lord ,Who was with me in my yesterday, Who is in my today, and will be in my tomorrow, until the end of my days.

Thank you dear friends, one and all, for making this a memorable day, with your kind wishes and love .

A red rose, a gaily wrapped gift, chocolates , candies and cake. A moonlit dinner, a kiss under the stars, a declaration of undying love, on the this the most romantic day.

Cupid’s arrow drawn and ready, finding its mark at random. bringing together lovers, young and old , matched and mismatched. Some for a lifetime, others for a moment. until the magic lasts.

The celebration of love so materialistic, a thriving business for all . A strange attraction, an attachment, developed by emotions most complex, is Love. Can it be boxed, can it be bottled, can it be wrapped and tied with a ribbon?

The pure selfless love of a parent, that transcends all heartbreak and disappointments. The romantic, passionate love of a spouse ,grows platonic over the years .The trusting love of a child and the kinship shared by friends. A many faceted emotion it is .

Nurtured by words and actions, held strong by trust and belief, love grows. Sometimes pure, fierce and strong. But not always positive or healthy, it can be selfish and addictive. Unrequited love, the plot of many a tale of sorrow and unconditional love, though a myth, we enjoy from our four legged friends.

Today I acknowledge that the greatest love of all is the love of the Divine for His creation, and as we all crave for love, let us understand that the easiest to achieve, is the love for oneself . So this Valentine’s Day, I choose to party with Me, Myself and I .

Turning sixty, a great milestone, the start of a new decade, another gift in time. A birthday, a celebration ,an age to be venerated, Marking the transition from middle aged to old.

Moving from the fast lane, to that of the more sedate, from gainful employment, to the much awaited leisure. From the killing fields of competitive career, to the mellow life of the retired.

Six decades it has been. We pranced through our precocious childhood, danced through the wild and carefree teens. We sailed through the tempestuous twenties ,stormed through the feisty thirties. We walked through the forties with poise and style, followed by the mature and staid fifties .

Now we stand on the threshold of, the wise and sage sixties. With each period, with every experience, adding to a our store of knowledge, we have reached with wisdom, to meet another decade. Yet, we look ahead with apprehension, not knowing what lies before us.

Is this the end or a new beginning, we wonder with uncertainty. Moving from the age of more is less to that of less is more, we become minimalists. From being worldly to being spiritual .

Our voice once strong, now weak, stops not from declaring the truth. Our eyes once bright, now less sharp but discerning, look upon others, with empathy .Our ears, failing though they may be, are willing to listen, with patience and sympathy.

Our appetite not what it was, we now savour and relish simple meals .Body and limbs less nimble and agile, daily tasks are slow and cumbersome, yet we perform them with grace and good cheer.

Time once boundless and slow, now limited and passing fast, teaching us the joy of living each moment. Being alone no longer undesirable, we enjoy solitude and discovering ourselves. No longer governed by the fear of failure, we live with no worry of rejection .

What then are we anxious about, in this new decade? Have we not traversed many a year? Once again, on our terms we will live. So Let’s embrace love, laughter and self, as we glide through our sixties, with dignity and pride.

Unsung heroes are we not all, with great deeds but no recognition ? Dodging the bullets life throws at us, the curve balls and the wild cards. Sometimes we overcome, and at others, barely escaping .

Shattered dreams and disappointments, hope that bubbles and bursts, our lot . With no sword or cannons, we take on life with its barrage of disillusionment. Are we not valiant soldiers?

With no handbook nor instructions ,we often make poor decisions, consequences of which are overwhelming . But not conceding defeat ,we rise after each fall. Is that not commendable?

At times champions of a cause, we take a stance and hold fast . Misjudged and misunderstood, shunned and forsaken, we still fight resolutely, without surrender, for that which we hold sacred.

Sometimes born with disabilities, for no fault of ours but that of the stars, challenges we face many .Though a failing battle, we don’t yield, but fight stoically, to conquer those weakness.

Being selfless at times considered a trait of weakness, turning us into victims of betrayal. But we don’t stop being kind and generous, caring for others, sharing their trials, even if unappreciated.

Not an example or a cautionary tale, leaving no blazing trail, we quietly pass through life. Riding its storms its upheavals, with no peal of trumpets or fanfare, we endure life’s perilous journey, till the very end .

Though life is seldom kind,,we forge ahead with courage and tenacity. Often tossed into a maelstrom of hardship we hold strong. Against all odds, we fight to survive, to perpetuate life . Are we not then heroes ?

Barely six months into my blog ,I must confess I suffer from a block .Oh no, not the arterial one, but the much dreaded ailment that befalls a writer, the inevitable block . Some may say it’s premature, nevertheless it’s my present condition.

Sitting down with ideas none, nothing new forthcoming, writing is a bane, a tedious task. Looking at the garden green,the sky above, the people around, waiting for that intelligent flow of words, is like expecting hell to freeze over .

A definite slowdown it is ! My muse has fled my brain, like the moose the barn. Stealing my new found creativity, leaving me with no inspiration, straining my feeble writing skills, which much to my chagrin, is dwindling.

Despondently I wonder, will this inability soon disappear or is it here to stay? Will I be besieged with this affliction, each time I venture to write a piece? The answer to that, am afraid, is still at large .

Notwithstanding, my poor disposition, I choose to wait on heaven’s intervention, in this matter most alarming . But alas to my dismay and distress ,there is no glimmer of revelation.

Ready to abandon this vain attempt ,ironic though it may seem, I choose to ink down my thoughts on this unwelcome malady, known to many of fame and now to me .

But I rest in the knowledge, that my muse will soon return. Until then, will lay down my pen, much to the relief of some, indifference of others and to those few who may miss my poems, fear not, for I will be back. 😀

The year 2020 , a memorable one, a roller coaster with ups and of downs, will go down in history. Tragedies and great fortunes, destructions and reconstructions. A year inconceivable, yet so tenable . Counting the days and months,we have now reached the end .

We made inroads in reaching out, to those in need, to heal broken relationships. We forged new bonds ,renewed old ones and friends we now have many . We learnt to accept our differences, to choose peace instead of dissent, accord over discord.

Though a year of lockdowns and imprisonment, it was the year that liberated us. As we were forced to spend time alone, we found in those moments, ourselves and the strength within.

We conquered our vulnerability, turned it into strength . Our fears we quelled and changed it to calm. We turned dull chores into a charm, even dish washing became therapeutic. Our daily fare we converted to gourmet meals, with simple and ingenious embellishments. We took our mundane, made it magical.

Talents and skills hitherto scarce and unknown, we discovered in ourselves and others. Encouraging each other we raised, our collective competency, our self worth .

Spending time in prayer and meditation, we found a spiritual connection with the Divine and humanity .This year is leaving us enriched and It is with gratitude we bid farewell to 2020 .It is with hope and fortitude that we greet the new year 2021, knowing we are prepared, for whatever it holds for us.

A Happy New Year -2021

Live in the present, live in the moment, an age old adage , spouted by the wise and the intelligent. A matter of opinion that, for is it really possible Not to live in the present. The past we no longer can reverse, the future an illusion at best, so here we stand only to experience the present .

But is not the present a consequence of the past and the future fashioned from our present actions? A strange condition this, I must say. The story of the pregnant deer, a much circulated, narrative adopted by most counsellors, to illustrate the importance of staying focused on the present.

A poor pregnant deer out in the open, hemmed in by danger from all directions. A hunter in front with an arrow drawn,a big cat from behind, ready to strike, a forest fire on the right and a rushing river on the left . With no escape route and in severe pain,she is forced to stop ,to give birth to her little one. The turn of events that followed, quickly removed all the challenges .

A loud thunder, like the proverbial bell, saved the little dear from imminent danger . The sound distracted the hunter, who lost his aim and shot the tiger. The furious cat changed direction and chased the hunter away. The heavy downpour that came after the thunder, soon quenched the flames of the forest, leaving the deer in peace as her baby is born. A happy ending, all in all .

So then, what is the moral of the story? When troubles besiege us from every side, leaving us with no avenue of escape, we are forced to focus on the task at hand . If providence chooses to smile, we will be saved, released from the grip of terror, but what if not ? When backed into a corner, surrounded by danger, is the choice still ours to make, are we still the authors of our story ?

What of the other times, when the choice is ours to make, do we ignore the past, plan not for the future and live only one moment to the next ?

More than 2000 years ago, God sent His beloved son, to save mankind, that was heading towards a certain destruction.

He took birth as a human being, in a humble cattle shed, to parents most ordinary, with shepherds to keep them company . He chose the poor, the needy, the oppressed, for they lived in the hope of seeing a new tomorrow, God’s gift of deliverance.

Though known as a king, a warrior and Saviour, He chose not the palace, nor the nobility. He did not choose the battle ground or the political field . With no crown, no sword or shield, He conquered the greatest enemy of all, death and He reigns Supreme .

He taught us to love , to serve , to advocate peace . That the other is more important than self and to lead a life of gratitude at all times. When on earth the Holy One lived, a life of sinless devotion, to His Father above and to the least of us. He gave His life as a sacrifice so that we could live and not die . Even in the most agonising moments, He chose not His Will but that of His Father .

A life so short, yet so old . The story of the good news that spread the world over. Today we need to remind ourselves of that good news, no matter our circumstances, no matter what the coming year holds, our greatest victory lies in the Cross and the empty grave .

The sky in the morning, stirring from slumber, as the golden rays of the sun, like delicate fingers, push and prod, parting the shroud of darkness, to emerge like a new born baby, from its deep recess.

Though reluctant the day may be, the sun coaxing it along,first all pink like a blushing bride, then turning a yellow , the sky greets the rising sun.

Morning colours so beautiful, the sky a freshly washed blue. When you spy it through the trees, you can well imagine it’s a green.

But with each passing moment, the climbing sun, turns the sky to a brilliant, blazing white.By noon the mighty orb of light, is a powerful force to reckon with. The heat and the shining particles, play tricks on the naked eye.

Then there are days, when in exasperation, displeased at the atrocities beneath, he hides behind those ominous clouds, turning the sky a dark grey, a gloomy light for us to contend with.

Come evening and it’s the setting sun. The fiery ball begins his descent. Seemingly downcast for he must leave, the sky he reigned awhile. Donning his robe of red and gold, he turns the sky a flaming orange.

With a final display of tumultuous colour, in an effort to leave his imprint, he changes the sky to a deep purple. Then fading he disappears from sight, sinking below the horizon, to rise over another land, in another sky.

The sky above in his wake, lost and bereft of colour, gropes in the dim twilight, until the arrival of the shining moon, a little part of the sun, that he left behind for us.

As we stand, not very far from the sunset of our lives, we can take comfort in knowing, that like the sun, when we leave here, we will rise in another realm and a small part of us will remain, to be remembered by.

Until then let’s lead our lives, filled with a myriad of colours. Listening to that urgent inner voice, embracing our destiny and not having to make choices.