I woke up to two very distinct internet messages this morning. Yet hopefully you will see how there is almost no distinction between them at all.
As I was scrunching my curls this morning, preparing to greet the day ahead of me in the calm that the air around me exudes; I wondered briefly why it mattered at all whether or not I scrunched my curls. Especially after the news I received this morning and what it did to me.
This is when the synchronicity within the serendipity unfurled itself almost accidentally; standing in front of the half sized mirror in the tiny washroom of my airbnb tucked away in a crevice of Madrid.
The first message my eyes rested on as I awoke from a long night’s slumber (after several late nights and early mornings owing to work that is very close to my heart while I’m at home away from home); left me feeling a flood of emotions that are difficult to express without them being just a jumble.
I had slept alarm-less for the first time in weeks, even months. I had permitted myself to awaken when my eyes decided to meet the sunrays. I had given myself the rest my body had been aching for.
With heavy eyes, a rested body, a slightly craned neck from not moving too much in bed and my curls all disheveled, I turned over to greet my partner in bed. As I turned her on, all the messages from my slumbering hours began flooding in. One was from a not so frequent contact announcing the passing over of a dear uncle.
Still opening my eyes completely, not fully understanding who this contact was and definitely not grasping the contents of the message, I sat there for few moments. Reading and re-reading. When the words began to make sense, like ants gathering together when forming a perfect line; I finally made meaning of what at first seemed like scattered letters.
My heart still hadn’t found its place as I made phone calls to dear ones back home. Speaking to them one after the other gathered my emotions. He was finally at peace after much a strugglesome existence. A loving man who looked after others more than he did himself. A silent spectator in most heated moments. The alkaline in all things spicy and acidic and yet the one to add flavor to our meals through his homespun finger licking pickles.
A ‘mama’ who had been fun yet somewhat existing in the backdrop. The one they all counted on and yet seemed to speak least of. The apple of his mothers’ eye and yet perhaps not. A rising star of the IIT (Indian Institute of Technology) and yet simply lurking in the dark. Perhaps the place of all stars is truly in the darkness of the night sky, for they wouldn’t be seen if they permeated day light.
Reeling with these thoughts and emotions some of which I couldn’t make sense of, a notification crossed my screen which read a complement to my new look; the curls. I passed it by without really registering it in my mind.
Sixty odd minutes later, standing before the half sized mirror, hydrating the curls it occurred to me like a delayed download of internet messages. The body is transient and nothing changes that. Vanity remains vanity when we limit our existence and enjoyment to the body itself. Celebrating the body as a vehicle for our true nature is a constant dance in celebration of this transience.
Why not celebrate? Why not celebrate the body that allows such blissful experiences: the taste of your favourite coffee on your palate, the touch of a loved one’s skin brushing against yours, the voice of a dear one whispering in your ear, the beauty of the birds dancing and chirping around you and the deep pain and anguish only the body permits you to feel?
Why not celebrate? Why not celebrate the peace, tranquility, harmony and relief of passing over from the transience of this body that once wore many costumes? Why not celebrate while in this body itself