Being Grounded

I am not an easy daughter. I can be quite stubborn, easily irritable, impatient and I abhor questions. Ask me too many unnecessary, irrelevant and trivial details, and I will build a wall around myself and not respond to any conversation. Sometimes, I find this behaviour out of my realm of control. Or so I tell myself when I get unbearably angry. For parents two generations older, it is very hard to handle. But I do love my parents a lot (who doesn't).

My father has been planning a month long trek to Kailash Mansarovar for a couple of months now. I am in awe of his strength and determination to continue to push himself at this age, and I want to be there to support him for this journey in every way possible. But I have found it hard to come from a space of love, for no apparent reason. Sometimes, being snappy is just easier (sad sad truth it is). But the course of life has strange ways of driving home a point when required. Recently, one of my oldest and closest friend's lost his father all of a sudden. It still hasn't sunk in, and I don't think it entirely ever will. I remember the same friend's mother saying, when his grand mother passed away when we were some fifteen years old, that she has no regrets because she never had a useless fight with her mother. This event brought back a flood of very pleasant memories from a long time ago, accompanied by a twinge of pain, and a subtle reminder of the importance and fragility of life.

I spent two hours talking with my parents today evening, the longest in a long time. We talked about everything – from my work situation, to my life plans and philosophies. My mom and I as usual argued on the way I choose to live my life. But we argued peacefully, gave each other the space to talk and express our views. I did not lose my cool, stomp out of the room announcing how difficult it is for me to have a conversation with her, and shut myself from the world for a few hours. We talked about my dad's trip, which is only a week away now. About how we would keep in touch while he is trekking. For an evening I shared his excitement and faith in what he is going out to do, despite resistance from the world around him (no guesses for where I get that streak in me from!). For an evening, I let him openly see how inspired I am by him. For an evening, I gave my parents the opportunity I should have a long time ago – to be able to share their life with their youngest daughter, and to be a part of hers. I have always felt that nothing is more important for me than family, friends and human relationships. No work, ideal or passion can replace them for me. My biggest passion is my loved ones, and an ever expanding circle of relationships I am willing to give of myself to. This is the first time I feel like I am truly living it.

Being able to overcome my petty issues with my parents, I have been reminded of the interdependence and love with which we all live. I have been reminded of the importance of patience. And most importantly, I have been reminded of the importance of humility. I am grateful to my parents for bringing me up in a manner such that I am strong enough to be open to learnings at every stage of life.

I love you a lot Mom and Dad!

Lone travelers and Deserted Beaches

The beach in Gokarna is beautiful. Not as rocky and raw as Diu, but it is beautiful and clean, green forests all around. I've come at the wrong time of the year people say – it's off season, hot, and not many people around. But that is the way I like to travel – experiencing places during their seasonal virginity. Desolate and deserted almost, the sun beating down on me as I sit on a secluded rock on Om Beach. I reached here by chance, almost like an impulsive accident. It was like the tides were pulling me towards them. And as I sit here on my deserted beach, I can see the ocean grow, and the last falling waves sprinkle me with water from head to toe.

I like traveling alone on a shoe string budget. I don't know what it is about sleeper class travel and congested, slow state transport buses that makes me feel so alive and present. Maybe it is the elimination of personal space and the forced connection to humanity, on the surface, only physical, but on a deeper level an emotional connection, that gives me a feeling of belonging. Whatever it may be, I feel like I have earned my spot to be here at this very moment.

I reached Gokarna yesterday night, quite late in conventional terms for a young girl traveling alone to a small beach town during off season. At every point people asked me if I was traveling alone – from co-passengers in the bus giving me directions, to the auto-wallah who took me from the bus stand to the beach, to the receptionist at the place I was staying at, and even some of the other travelers I met. But that's okay – I'm used to being called a little adventurous and crazy :-). In fact, I think life is almost a search for crazy adventure and excitement for me. I wish I had more time here, but I must be heading off in another ST bus in three hours. However, the one day spent in Gokarna has put it on my list of places to come back to, along with many others. Though I can't say if I'll head back during peak season :-P. I'll end with a statement that represents my time here pretty well - “For party, go to Goa. Gokarna only shanti!” (A German traveler said this to two guys I met at Namaste Cafe).

Psst psst... I'm missing Gokarna right now, and I think the next job I take up will be of a beach bum! :-D