Last weekend of epiphanies
On my return journey back home from Bangalore, in the wee hours of Jan 2nd, I was looking out of the window of the bus, waiting for my stop. I did not need google maps; I would instantly recognize the sharp distinction of landscape changes when the bus enters my hometown. I was looking out in anticipation, and caught the first sight of the fans, as many more came into view on the backdrop of the trailing end of the Western Ghats. What took me by surprise was this totally new and yet familiar warm fuzzy feeling that flooded my heart as I caught that first glimpse and rose all the way up to my face into an uncustomary smile.
Sometimes you vividly define a worst-case scenario for your life in your head and wager with fate and do everything to not end up there and then fate wins. Close to mid-30s, single and living with my parents in a small town in the middle of nowhere was a reality as far as possible from the hope I had set for my life. I felt like natural milestones the others were experiencing around me was simply passing me by. But what I was totally not prepared for, was how much I would actually ‘be ok’ with this particular worst-case scenario version of my life. It felt like God in His infinite wisdom and kindness cushioned the blows of life and gave me access to a secret reserve of resilience and patience to wait and trust Him, until the clouds cleared up. Also, there was a tiny voice in my head that kept telling me that I may look back, many years later, at this opportunity to spend days, weeks and months on end with these two people who loved me the most in this world and consider myself lucky.
Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.
From being hell-bent on plotting ways to leave this sleepy small town to actually falling in love with it and feeling I wouldn’t be half as happy anywhere else in the world; I came a long way from grinning at the landscape, in terms of embracing my roots.
The secret of attractiveness
There's beauty in asymmetry
Oh! there's an appeal to your mystery!
In a world obsessed with the ephemeral appeal of symmetry, IKEA does a perfect job of designing and mass-producing perfectly symmetric indoor décor items like plant pots and plants. I am guilty too having indulged in buying the perfect plant creeper for brightening up the dining room of my parent’s home.
In contrast, the highway roadside shops near my hometown sells handmade and hand painted pots which outclass Ikea’s cookie-cutter pastel-colored pots that are cut to perfection, by miles. The handmade pots are understandably a bit more expensive because of the way they are made but have more character with their unfinished look and their interesting and inconsistent patterns. Sometimes you see the minuscule error of the potter’s hand and a chip here and there painted over by a slightly different color.
Of course, monuments of historical relevance and architectural genius like the Taj Mahal or the Notre-Dame are symmetrical. And of course, we instinctively reach out to the perfectly round tomatoes or apples and peaches at the grocers. There is phonetic symmetry to poetry that makes it more appealing than prose. But, I reckon we are drawn to asymmetry more than we care to admit. The Danish concept of Hygge is all about creating a cozy environment and most of the elements that make a place hyggelieg are elements of nature like textured wood or plants, neither of which are symmetric. Most of what we love and see in life is asymmetrical. Look around you, the place where you live, the view from the balcony or the face of a person you love. I bet they are not symmetrical or perfect and yet that is what makes them damn attractive and most appealing.
