Your island

I've always heard that no man is an island. That man is a social animal. Or words to that effect. But in today's world and age we all need our islands. The lyrics of an old song drift into my head :"Where do you go to my lovely?" So where do you go when you want to be alone in your head? Do you take off for a long walk? Or a hike? Go off on an expensive vacation overseas to unwind? Or simply settle down on your couch or bed to binge watch T.V? Or read a book? Maybe you head to your garden. Yank out a few weeds. Plant a few saplings. Go off on a long drive. 

We might have different ways of relaxing, of coping with stress but all of us need a space where we can let go and just be. 

While the world around you might be exploding into mayhem and madness what is the only thing you hold on to? Me I read books. That's my island. My space. 

There is so much that is wrong with the world today. 

There is so little any of us can do about it. 

People killed in Texas, people dying in Iran quake, school boy murdered in Ryan- ugly disturbing things. Gone are the days when we could sit in our homes and say complacently- how does nuclear testing in Korea threaten us? How does a church full of people gunned down in the US affect us? The world is shrinking. It is invading our homes. We cannot be impervious to anything that happens anywhere in the world. Be it France, England, US, China, or India. The social media has seen to it. And in such a scenario all of us need an island we can turn to. Where we can drink of the cup of forgetfulness and be selfish. I say it is not natural but imperative that we do so. To hold on to our sanity. To be in touch with ourselves. 

Because unless you have an island somewhere inside of you or out of it you can retreat to, life becomes pretty much unbearable. Then man kills man, countries go to war, worlds disintegrate. Mayhem and madness happens. 

Search for that island which gives you your slice of self, that momentary reprieve, that escape and forgetfulness all of us crave but few admit to craving, and go there. If even it's only in your head. For it's your special space in this great big world. Your island. 

Of plants and lessons learned

Hey there! It's been a long time since I wrote. So long in fact that my account was closed! So this is me posthumously. (Sigh!) What it is to die before you actually die! Like I said before there's little to say if you've nothing really to say. And my last post was around Christmas last year I think. See. It's been that long. I can't even recall. Okay. So here's what I want to share. I like greenery. I like plants. Stationary enduring eternal. There's something wonderful about them. Yet they are so transient. Flowers bloom wither then bloom again. 

So it's about a certain plant in a pot in my terrace. The most humble of all plants. The most common. Frangipani. Plumeria. Champa. It has many names for such a common plant. I'd grown this plant from a cutting taken off the roadside in my colony brought to me by my chowkidar. 

The cutting grew into a healthy vigorous plant. It had nice glistening green leaves and a fat healthy trunk. But it refused to flower. Year after year I waited with baited breath. In vain. It remained stubbornly green without a single flower to crown my efforts. I waited and waited. I fertilized it. Watered it. Assiduously showered it with my TLC. Five years passed. Several plants in the interim flourished and perished. I had a hard time deciding if I had green fingers or brown fingers or decidedly black fingers. My successes were few; failures legion. My cactus bloomed generously; so did a few others. Many died. I watched gardening videos; scoured google to find ways to make it flower. Tried to shock it into flowering. By watering it then withholding water. Believe me I left no stone unturned. Finally I gave up. And forgot about it. Totally. Completely. 

Then a month ago after a rainy day I happened to peep out of my kitchen into the terrace which is adjoining. And lo and behold I saw a crown of flowers. I couldn't believe my eyes. I went out, peered suspiciously at the buds, touched them to verify then still skeptical went inside. Maybe the buds wouldn't flower after all I thought. But they did. A month later they are still flowering. 

What is the point of all this you may ask? No point really. Plumeria blooms by the roadside with little or no care. It's the hardiest plant around. But my plant taught me a valuable lesson. Sometimes it's better to let go. To stop trying. To just do your bit and give up. Maybe there's a time for everything. A time to flower. A time to win. A time to fail.  A time to fall. A time to rise. 

And maybe your efforts will pay off. In the end. Whenever it is. 

And sometimes neglect is a healthy thing and not caring the right thing. Maybe caring too much can ruin things. So take a step back relax and turn away. 

Who knows just when you are at your wit's end and about to give up you may just succeed?