This Time

 Aadi asked me to review what he called his "rough outline" for college essay. here it is - 

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The Time I Still Have

When I was younger, my dad was the person who got me interested in music, art, math and physics. He was more energetic back then, we would go out and do so many things together. As I got older, though, his mental health started getting worse. Between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, I found myself asking him to hang out less often. Sometimes he would be asleep, and other times he would be lying in bed reading or watching a movie. I wanted to spend time with him, but I also wanted him to get better. I kept thinking that eventually, things would improve and we could go back to doing more together.

We still spent time together, usually watching shows or movies at home. Sometimes I would introduce him to something I liked, and other times he would show me something he enjoyed. Those moments were still fun, but part of me wished things could go back to how they used to be. I didn't realize how much I was waiting for that to happen.

Growing up, I struggled with my physical and mental health. Eventually, I turned to substances to cope with feelings I didn't know how to handle. For a long time, I was more focused on getting through each day than figuring out how to make things better. Earlier this year, I stopped using substances and started working with a therapist and psychiatrist to manage my mental health. I was finally trying to take control of my life when, on June 9, my dad passed away from cardiac arrest.

After he died, I kept thinking about the time I could have spent with him. I wished I had asked him to hang out more often, even when he was tired or didn't feel like leaving the house. I had wanted him to get better so we could do more together. Now, I found myself regretting all the times I had waited for that to happen. Around the same time, I missed a major final exam that determined my grade in math. Between losing my dad and dealing with the consequences of missing that exam, it felt like I was falling behind in my own life.

Eventually, I began to realize that constantly looking backward wasn't going to change anything. I thought about what my dad would have wanted for me, and I couldn't imagine him wanting me to spend my life regretting the past instead of living it. I believe he would have wanted me to make something of my life, even with everything I was dealing with.

That realization didn't make losing him easier, and I still wish I had spent more time with him. But it helped me understand that moving forward doesn't mean forgetting what happened or pretending I have everything figured out. It means accepting that I can't change the past while still taking responsibility for my future. I'm sober now, I'm getting help, and I'm learning how to handle my struggles instead of running away from them. 

For a long time, I thought persistence meant putting up with whatever life threw at me. Now, I think it means recognizing when something isn't working, being willing to change, and continuing to work toward a better future even when I don't feel ready. I can't get back the time I wish I had spent with my dad, but I can make sure I don't spend the rest of my life wishing I had done more with the time I have left.

So, I want to turn towards my future. I want to study physics, I want to get back to my music and I want to make my dad proud.

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Reading this, i am undone - the tenderness, the courage, the hope. My children never fail to amaze me. This time they are my guides through the storm we all are weathering. I now know - we are going to be okay.

Some days are just like this

I got back from work trip which was back to back with family trip which was back to back with …. just about every thing else. I tried to keep my commitment to bad art of the day - and the camel’s back of patience and acceptance finally broke and had it out with the poor painting of fall color leaves I was trying my hand at. Anger flashed out of no where and emptied the contents of a spray bottle full of water on to the painting and watched with satisfaction as all the color ran through the paper and made a muddy puddle on my art table, the washed up sheet lay curled on its side as if drained of all tears. Pathos. No we don’t go there. 

I took a deep breath, picked up the paper and reminded it that it’s 100% cotton - it can survive a wash or two. I taped it to a clipboard so it can straighten when it dries - the clipboard has its back. Then I dropped random dabs of fall colors that immediately started blooming like hope. They say - raise your face to the sun and shadows will fall behind you. I felt light. 

I will come back to this paper tomorrow or the day after or the day after that …. one day I will paint the maple leaves I wanted to paint. That is a commitment I can make. For today, this is enough. 

Aadi didn’t speak

He was three years old approaching four and didn’t speak much. He gestured and pointed to stuff that Diya then translated for us as to what he wanted. He uttered a few dyslexic phrases here and there and we cherished all of them - 'sun scream' and 'swimming soup' were my favorite, and 'mergency' and 'hostable' my terror, those phrases don’t belong in the vocabulary of a three year old …. but that was our nightmare then. 

Anyway, I fretted and worried about his ‘developmental delay’ as I fretted and worried about everything else - life was a project and there were milestones to be met. Suvo shrugged it off like he shrugged off any arbitrary expectations - ‘he’ll speak when he feels like it …. Diya is there to speak for him … there is no problem’. And I got mad at him for not worrying enough as, in my less than wise ways, I equated not worring to not caring. He shrugged that off too. Grrrr….

Anyway, Aadi did ‘feel like it’ soon enough - four years old he pointed to something, Diya wasn’t around (probably at school) but by then I did not need translation, I knew what he wanted but I wanted him to use his words. So I said ‘No’ and turned to look outside the window so he doesn’t see the frustration in my eyes. And then I heard his tiny sing song voice say ‘why do you keep crushing my heart’ %%^*%+????? I was floored. Developmental delay my @$$. This boy was composing poetry behind my back - literally. His feelings were too big for the words he knew. They needed to catch up and sync before he could articulate. 

Then came the thoughts - all in a jumble at first. When he was five, we moved to Texas - in hope of getting away from ‘mergencies and hostables’ that we attributed to Minnesota winters. In Texas, after getting systematically bullied in public school, we moved the kids to private school where they got religiously schooled in ‘science from a specific religion’s point of view’. First there were tears - while Aadi cried and prayed for the one billion lost souls in India who prayed to the wrong god. It was up to him to save them. Such a big task for such a little kid. Then came wonder, quickly followed by disbelief as a ‘miracle’ was performed by his kindergarten teacher in front of his whole class - by invoking  god’s son she was able open the lid of a tightly closed jar that she couldn’t open by herself as she had previously demonstrated. After the prayers, the very same jar opened to the wonder of a class full of five year olds ready to put their beliefs into the jar for future safekeeping. And this was made possible just by son of god, imagine then the power of, capital G, God. So Aadi tried to imagine.

By then we had a bedtime ritual of cuddling up with the big questions of ‘how was your day at school’. Diya had reels of information, Aadi would stay quiet until her stories were exhausted, and then maybe share a snippet or two that made an impression for him - that’s how I knew about the miraculous stuff and lost souls which were apparently also discussed in front of the whole class - singling him out @@&%^*€?$& I was struggling to figure out how to help this boy who felt so deeply. How do I help him reconcile the world we threw him into for his own safety with the world he knew growing up in a house of two scientists who questioned everything. 

But then, I didn’t have to - one of the nights he waited for his turn and just relaxed into the cuddle and (again without looking at me directly) said ‘I figured it out’, I waited silently for him to continue - I’ve learned that is the key, don’t push or prod, let him arrive on his own terms. And I had to suspend not just words, I had to relax with my whole body and snuggle closer, and then he exhaled and continued - ‘I figured it out - God made Big Bang’. I let that sink in. ‘I told her’, he continued referring to his kindergarten teacher. I waited and then sensing his tension asked - ‘what did she say?’  ‘Nothing. She said nothing, she just looked at me’. ‘Well then you know you are right, you figured it out. There is nothing more to say’, I told him, he relaxed and fell asleep promptly. I stayed awake a long time wondering. 

Many years later, now, I am staying awake wondering again. There is a Big Bang in our lives and this boy is not speaking again. I am worried sick literally. But I have to remember. I have to trust. I have to let him arrive on his own terms. 

Bad art needs practice too!

Quick art exercise of the day - learning to use this long tipped brush to make one stroke leaves / petals. Didn’t go so well. But who is judging!

This beach could use a clean up

Lately, some of my “bad art” has actually turned out good - I immediately took to sharing those pieces with everyone and the tiny ego lapped up all the compliments and promptly forgot the point of this exercise. More so, ego being ego - decided to take the leap and follow expert painters time lapsed videos instead of the step by step tutorials for beginners I had been following so far. Well the proof is in the pudding or in this case proof is in this wreck of a beach that was supposed to be a serene sepia scape - instead of green sky, muddy sand and what looks like a Bermuda Triangle beneath the sun in the ocean. I don’t see sepia anywhere and I am definitely finding no serenity looking at this picture - Infact it’s giving me anxiety that I need to clean it up somehow! 

I am feeling that weight in real life too with way too many big changes in the last week with kids moving to Lansing (more on that later), in-person work meetings, and home maintenance projects I took on. I have to remember that I am a beginner - a beginner grief practitioner. I need to stay with my step by step guided pace. As much as I want to be “back into swing of things” …. I’m just not there yet. If I push myself too hard, I’ll just have a mess to cleanup. 

I am going to keep this dirty beach picture on my table to remind me to slow down. It’s a process. Can’t skip steps. Put one foot in front of the other. Breathe. 

Ambition = Anxiety

Well….here we are. I fell into the trap of taking on a complicated idea instead of the low stakes “bad art” I was making following along you-tube tutorials. I wanted to make this for Diya’s new apartment- but the project grew in size and complexity and became agonizing and stressful. Nothing seems to be working in it despite spending several hours on it. Totally defeats the purpose of why I started doing art. 

Tomorrow- back to bad art - no objective, no expectations. Bad art = quiet heart. 

Art (& squirt) therapy for all

Loved sharing all the art supplies I have been accumulating in the past few weeks, with the kids. They immediately jumped in - and for a moment everything felt alright. 

Aadi made some abstract art. Diya - well in Diya style - has about five different projects going in parallel - everything from die cutting and embossing paper to large format mixed media artwork inspired by Monet’s waterlillies. Oh and did I mention the glass dip pens that “charge” ink by turning counterclockwise in the ink-pot - this makes the spiral groves on the head pull ink from the well - that then slowly releases as you write. Mind bending technology from the medieval times. None of us could resist it! Calligraphy samples to follow. 

P.S.: later, Aadi finished his art work. Diya still has all of them going in parallel, then "took a break" from art and decided to squirt everyone with a water gun instead. that broke the assembly and sent everyone scurrying for cover - human and pets alike. We love you so so much, Diya (Nannnu) Ganguli.

Who let the rabbit out?

Some days need double-fisting

Aadi’s accident is sinking in. Even though he is ok. I am not. Had to hide in the room most of the day to stop myself from safe depositing the kids into a Swiss bank and then crawling into a hole myself. Bad art to rescue the poor heart. Along with some AI generated Indian ragas as accompanying music - hey who am I to judge. 

Hope

A week not for the weak

Here are a few things happened in the last week. 

Saturday, July 11th: Aadi got his drivers license finally. It become active as of Monday 8am. This was after months of missed classes and tests and failed attempts. He finally finished the test flawlessly in "Baba's Car". Apparently that was the problem previously, that i was making him drive my car - it was clearly the car, not his skill that was the issue. Well anyway, i relented and let him take the test in Suvo’s beloved Cadillac …. and … he aced the test - if there is such a thing as acing a driving test. He nailed the parallel parking in one shot. He was poised, he drove with confidence and chatted with the chatty Evaluator - he told her about Suvo's biriyani recipe. I secretly cried behind my sun-glasses in the back seat. Later, I ordered his twin light-sabers he wanted for a long time. I was so proud of him.

Sunday, July 12th: We bought a condo in Lansing - well almost bought, offer accepted and signed, inspection and closing to follow. kids are excited for this next phase of restarting school. It was their idea - to move in together on campus and focus on college. They felt so happy that i found them playing with the said light-sabers in the basement, wearing their Harry Potter robes! Here i thought they were cleaning the cat litter boxes as a result of my lecture on taking responsibility now that they will be co-home owners of sorts. Ah well. I took the light hearted moment in. that will do for now.

Monday, July 13th: I got back to work. Felt uplifted by the team and the work. Felt gutted by all the paperwork that dragged me into deep doo-doo water i am trying to escape. Have to learn to compartmentalize. And stop filling forms that ask for updates i am still denying.

Tuesday, July 14th: Apartment inspection scheduled for 9am. As newly responsible, soon to be co-home owners, I let the kids go to inspection with the Realtor. I focused on work. This is going to be our new life, so why not start right now. Few hours later, they called from the car telling me they are going to Grand Rapids to meet a friend. They will return home for dinner and they will take turns driving as Aadi can now drive with Diya in the car. (??#$@#??) ... I took many deep breaths ... told myself i would have to trust them. they are growing up and becoming independent i have to let them do their thing. 

Later that evening, they got back, and immediately my mamma radar went up with suspicion - something was off. Upon interrogation it was revealed that while driving back on I-96, a flying axle hit the front of the car. ??@#$?? it seems a whole tire-wheel assembly got detatched from a car two vehicles ahead of them. Another car in front hit it and the tire exploded, that made the debri propel more and hit the car kids were in. NOTHING HAPPENED was repeated many times. They tried to play it down. And then before i could properly freak out they produced a kitten - another black kitten - that is why they went to Grand Rapids to pick up the kitten. I was speechless. Still am. Breathe. Just Breathe.

Wednesday, July 15th - I braved the big wide world and drove to work to be in person. Got stuck at security check-in for over an hour on account of my badge being suspended as i am supposed to be on leave. And that there was a 30-people party of contractors trying to get into the premises and they were in queue before me. I practiced more deep breathing. 

Thursday, July 16th - We got insurance claim back from the abandoned trip to Spain and Portugal. And, same day I received the design proposal and estimate for the Zen garden Suvo and I wanted to build where weeds are taking over. Guess what - the estimate is the exact amount recovered from Spain Trip. OK. it’s a sign. I can focus on something positive. Maybe making this garden will give me some peace. And I can clearly use a zen garden. 

Friday, July 17th - More papers and bills hissed at me at home and outside the smoke from Minnesota wild-fires covered the city. no respite anywhere. Meanwhile, my secondary vehicle arrived after waiting for months for it. Good distraction, Aadi and i immediately went and picked it up. We are making progress i thought. But progress is exhausting so i took a nap. Then i got the nightmare phone call - Aadi on the phone telling me to stay calm and telling me that he is in a car crash. Got T-boned at the entrance to our neighborhood. I AM FINE he repeated ... but the car is totaled. 

I was out of bed and in my car before my brain processed nightmare from reality ... no no no this wasn't really happening. I have never been more terrified than driving up to the accident scene where Aadi stood amid the wreckage holding a paper towel to his head, surrounded by police cars, fire trucks and paramedics .... NO NO NO. I was incoherent, he was still coherent and calm ... my child. There was so much .... stuff on the road ... bumper on the side walk, debri everywhere and o my god the red fluid on the street that made my heart freeze .... i pointed and screamed and the paramedic told me that was not blood, its from the car he said ... the car ... i looked at the car and it was not a car anymore ... airbags everywhere, shiny metal, crushed plastic ... i could not make sense .... it was dizzying ... 

Aadi touched my shoulder, Mamma I'm ok, its ok,  he was repeating the mantra we have been repeating over and over since that other dreaded phone call few weeks ago that turned our world upside down ... its going to be ok, we are going to be ok. now i was repeating it too. the paramedic pulled both aadi and i into the evaluation unit. Aadi had a nasty cut on his forehead, but apart from that he is okay. no concussion, no fractures, no internal injury. the paramedic told me over and over again. he checked his vitals in front of me. how is it possible? how did my boy walk out of this horrible accident in one piece ... the car had to be towed in pieces. 

 I drove us home in a daze. Diya took charge of feeding us and dressing aadi's cut (he did not want to go to urgent care). i was too stunned to argue. i let them take care or each other and me. Later he told me that he doesn't remember much of the crash, but remembered that the air bags deployed and Onstar immediately called the emergency services. i never felt more grateful. this is what we do, my team at work, we test for this, i told him. this is what you will do one day - he took that in.

Saturday, July 18th - I couldn't sleep all night. kept checking on Aadi. he is ok. got him to urgent care in the morning just to be sure. he is ok. (infact he seemed to be enjoying the nurse's reaction at his disclosure that he was in a car crash). he is ok. But i am not. I am terrified. I told aadi that i want to take both of them and hide somewhere so no more badness happens to us. he said calmly, we cannot live like that. My turn to pause and take it in. This is such a Suvo thing to say. 

Later, the kids researched and found a good deal on the new appliances for the condo. they were being responsible and looking for the best options at lowest cost they told me. the new tiny kitten jumped around the desk. 

i did not mean to write all this down. the cat made me do it. Meet Kairo. 

Wonky House

So I found a you-tube tutorial on painting wonky houses and I made this picture as my bad art of the day. It reminded me of that house you all rented in the first year at UMN. I could not remember the house number so I sent this picture to Rajiv and Raktim and they each immediately replied with the address and photos of the ‘815’ house. It’s still there. What a crazy place it was. 

The shower was in the kitchen. I think it was part pantry and part garden shed converted into a make shift shower stall. I remember one time it was so windy that the back door - the one that was shut closed with chicken wires - it blew open, pulling in a blast of Minnesota winter into the shower. I still had soap on me ….. aaaargh. I think that was the one and only time I used the ‘facilities’ at your place. Or atleast the shower. Then there was the toilet upstairs- in the attic? Some how the roof slanted so low and steep that you couldn’t fully stand up. Like Harry Potter’s closet. Good thing I was short. It never occurred to me how Raktim managed in that. Maybe I should ask him. 

The location was prime - right next to the train line - all the lights flickered when the train passed. And the windows did not shut properly- remember when it dipped below minus 40 and you got so sick sleeping right next to that drafty window? I made food for you - i believe Chicken stew - you told me Ma's recipe and that she always makes that for when people get sick. I made it in my newly acquired pressure cooker from Prof. Jaideep Shrivastava. [What a pity i missed my chance of working with him for Amazon because i was so focused on obtaining a spare pressure cooker from him - well i had my priorities.]

Then later, for Diwali I bought the biggest comforter I could find in Walmart for you. A navy blue king size comforter - i still remember the plaid pattern and you looking back and forth from the comforter to me and your face lit up with surprise and delight. And somehow after that we slowly stopped pretending to be ‘just friends’. That comforter was your ‘largest’ belonging for a long time, until we moved in together and a whole household stood up around us within minutes :)

I miss the wonky house and that wonky time. 

Stones in my pocket

Some stones demand being picked up and put into our pockets as we walk along. Here are some that I put into my journal in the last few days - 

• Dark skies and dead black flies
• The lava flows and relief burns through 
• Let go of the ketchup & what’s wrong with watercolors
• When you lose the Why, What is the next step. These are not questions. 

Someday I might pull these out tumble them or toss them. For now they weigh down my pockets lending solidity to this nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from. 

But here is an art for today - a feather in the pile. 

Day 1/365 - Life in the cracks

I have been hanging by an invisible thread of making art. I am not an artist so I have given myself permission to make bad art. It calms my mind as my hands take over doodling, coloring, taping, cutting - without any purpose or goal. It is surprising how grounding it is and makes me feel connected to one of Suvo’s big loves in life. And Diya is teaching me techniques and sharing her art supplies and Suvo’s too. So we have decided that we will make one piece of tiny art everyday for 365 days and then make a reel. Let’s see how far we can take it. I have promised myself that if it becomes stressful instead of fun, I will stop it. I will not let my goal fixation and streak obsession take this tender refuge away from me. 

So today I put some washi tape randomly on a paper and then totally ignored its boundaries and let my hand scribble away. It was such a release, like breaking all the rules that bear no power on us but we follow anyway. 

There is a beautiful art practice in Japan called Kintsugi. If a precious pottery breaks they glue it back together and paint it with gold. The break and the reconstruction becomes part of its story, its heritage. Suvo has done this for several of our broken China that we collected from our travels or memorable gifts. The above picture that emerged after I removed the washi tape reminds me of that. 

This band of brightness we call our life

Though tears run down our face

you dwell in our heart

in that safe place

where pain & suffering no longer chase

Though your days here were brief

your spirit eternal alive, awake, complete

your mind forever sparkling

with wonder at every curious thing

Your love surrounds us

still, like dawn

quiet, awakening 

beneath the dark

We find your presence

where beauty brightens 

and kindness glows

where music echoes eternal tones

May you continue to inspire us

to enter each day with a generous heart

until we meet again

in the land where no one stays apart

       - adapted from writings by John O’ Donohue

Wild

The Beauty in you

matched

the Beast in me

Now I’m free

of the tenderness

of thee

A jagged edge

scarred

by beauty 

I walk alone

in the shadow

of the moon

The night

haunted

by a forgotten tune

A deep wilderness 

calling me

to a familiar home 

No borders. No embellishments.

Just keep swimming …

Blessings we count

I am not able to talk much. But I am able to draw somehow - never did before. Maybe I am turning into you? 

I know what you will say to the words above. Not much - but I can see that in your expression- too much? Ok so here is your refined version -

It is not a love story

Stories have a beginning, a middle, and an End

Love does not. 

Happy now? 

Good to know I am still my old unrefined self. I have lost you. I can’t lose myself too. 

Diya’s inside/insight joke!

I asked Diya to give me a hand to assemble this chair. 

Her question- how many PhDs does it take to assemble a chair?

Her own answer: Two - to make the person who will actually assemble the chair 🙄