Archive for May, 2015

The Healing

She stood up, walked several steps ahead, laughed her heart out… a feeling of exultation overtook her. Passersby looked at her, amused, some quite taken aback, some perplexed. Others just went by. She did not care.

In the vast expanse of nothingness

In the vast expanse of nothingness

She need not care all that anymore. She wanted to laugh… She wanted to scream in joy… She felt like a little stumbling, clutching child, who all of a sudden realized her powers, and walked for the first time alone, boldly and with over-confidence She felt free!

She felt like a bird, wispy, fluttering and wandering freely in the sky… in the vast expanse of nothingness. It’s a  flight without an end… a journey without a destination. A life beyond death, a soul beyond cleansing!

Yesterday, She was brooding, sulking… Upset with the world. She felt wronged. She was bruised. She felt like a victim… She was almost about to give up… she felt as if she was dying.

Somebody made her feel alive today, somebody made her dance the dance of ecstasy, somebody made her heart sing. That somebody reached out to reassure her that life is beautiful and will be even more beautiful each passing day. She felt connected to herself, to the one she now trusts, she felt connected to truth… without any fear of herself and the world!


My Masterpiece!

On a damp, dreary, stay-in-the-house kind of afternoon, I was a six-year-old artist armed with a new treasure. My green big box of crayons. Quite naturally, the usual sheet of paper borrowed from mom’s study wasn’t interesting enough for these 36 waxy, sweet-smelling vivid color sticks. I looked around for a bigger canvas. The walls were indeed inviting, yet strictly forbidden landscape. If only there were hidden walls, where I could conceal my artwork! I found one at last. The walls mom and dad’s closet would be the perfect place to begin.

Those waxy, sweet-smelling vivid color sticks

Those waxy, sweet-smelling vivid color sticks

I quietly slipped down the hall to the bedroom… stood on tiptoe to reach the perfect corner. Using all my strength, I pushed aside the heavy clothes and shut the door behind me. Words and images filled my mind faster than my hands could move. Bright reds, sky blues, bright explosive yellows and oranges, vivacious greens, shades of browns and many more — it took quite a lot of effort to create the  masterpiece!

A brilliant rainbow arched across the wall, with a bright golden sun peeping out from above. Below, was a lush green field with stick-figure children. Around them, flowers bloomed in different colors. Then I drew my golden white cat with its curious blue eyes and long black whiskers.

My masterpiece! My very own magic… with all its colors and brightness. A sense of joy filled me. With a feeling of over-enthusiasm, I just couldn’t wait to show it to mom, and then suddenly I came back to really. My animated eyes looked around, turned pale. Oh God! What had I done?

Mom called out, “Come for lunch dear.” In no time, her footsteps approached. The closet door remained opened. I stood nervously in the corner, still clutching the navy blue crayon in a sweaty fist, butterflies in my stomach. Moms sighed, then stood frozen. Only her eyes moved as she slowly looked over my masterpiece. She was quiet for a long time. I guess a very long time. I didn’t dare breathe.

Finally, she turned to me. “I like it,” she exclaimed. “No, I just loved it! It’s you who’ve made it! So cute, I feel like I have a new closet!”

Three decades later, as I flipped through my family album, my eyes stopped at my childhood artwork. “Oh no, when did mom take that photo?” It’s amazing! Despite we moving to a new, bigger house much later, she has saved my masterpiece. I looked at mom who was watching my amused expressions. We both smiled and then had a hearty laugh. I realize now, no matter how big that box of crayons and white walls seemed to me when I was young, my mother’s love was the biggest thing of all!

Here’s Why We Celebrate May Day

Happy Labor Day

Happy Labor Day

Truly, history has a lot to teach us about the roots of our radicalism.

When we remember that people were shot so we could have the 8-hour day…

If we acknowledge that homes with families in them were burnt to the ground so we could have Saturday as part of the weekend…

When we recall 8-year old victims of industrial accidents who marched in the streets protesting working conditions and child labor only to be beaten down by the police and company thugs, we understand that our current condition cannot be taken for granted…

People fought for the rights and dignities we enjoy today, and there is still a lot more to fight for. The sacrifices of so many people can not be forgotten or we’ll end up fighting for those same gains all over again.

This is why we celebrate May Day.

Courtesy: IWW