His name was Anil .

To a 20 yr old, 40 may sound old…..

I can see how that can be seen as such by someone half our age . But  I am still having babies,still going to school,some of my friends haven’t even been married yet. Many of us are still waking up to our dreams,some of us,still dreaming new ones.

Forty, is not old . Our lives have just begun,whether we have a partner,a spouse, and or children .

We all grew up in the same village. We,referring to our little group of friends.

I was the only girl in the group. Not that kind of girl.

It was a true friendship amongst all of us.

I was cute and princess like, I like to think, but I was one of the boys .

All of us would often hang out at my quaint,childhood home,shared by my siblings and parents.We would play cards,and drink coffee,tell ghost stories and freak each other out.

As we got older coffee turned to cigarettes ,and older even,into a drink of alcohol here and there . No drugs,ever.

Anil had three other brothers. I had three brothers, one older,the other two younger.  Each of Anil’s  siblings and  mine about 2 – 3 yrs older than the next sibling.

My sister came along much later, when I was sixteen years old .

She would only hear of the tales,as we told them today.

There were others in our little click,for lack of better word.

We were more than clicks. We were childhood friends,we were neighbors and each others protectors.

As we all grew up,we witnessed tragedies of other friends,not part of our immediate group,but definetely a part of our world .

We lost elementary and high school ‘part of our close world” friends,even ones we thought we had crushes on,to tragedies like car crashes,suicide, and diseases.

We saw other neighborhood friends lose their spouses to divorce and even cancer.

As we saw our parents age,if you want to call sixty aged,we endured the loss of some of our parents . My Dad was one of the parents, four years ago.

Today, we lost Anil .

Anil was as handsome as it gets. He was controversial,a talker and a fighter with his words. A boy with dreams,a man with so much potential.

He travelled all over the world with the local cricket team.

He played games against famous English cricket teams.

He was in the papers,named the teams most valued player.

He graduated with honors and at a very young age became a teacher/lecturer at the University he graduated from.

Not sure about the precise details,but somewhers at the University he met his future wife. The love of his life .

I heard they got married in a civil ceremony,bought their home near the University,and everyone knew of tales of love and completeness .

I dont know what came first,the drinking or the breakup,but I know the break up made him drink incessantly .

His wife seemingly happy, after a few years well with him, left the home one morning, and later that fateful day, which I believe led to this this day, Anil was served with divorce papers.

His tragic story unfolds where it seems this intelligent, even proud man, who found love and success, was now broken .

He eventually lost his job,as he was intoxicated at work.

His car was taken from him, for his safety, and his brothers took over his house payments to save the home he made with his wife, the home that he would never live in again, without her.

He moved back in with his parents and his siblings into their childhood home.

A huge, modern home .

I remember when they were struggling . I remember their old two bedroom home .

The father,a teacher,worked hard to make a better life for his family.

He gave Math lessons on the side,and his wife made home made treats they sold to the kids that took math lessons out of their home.

Today, the father is a retired principal, in his sixties,with a Math book to his name.

He no longer struggles….financially .

One son, an Attorney, one a teacher, and one in Radio, and Anil,the handsome cricketer,talented University Teacher.

Anil collapsed two days ago at his childhood home,was rushed to the hospital.

He went into a coma and died.

I live 3000 miles away from my foreign birthplace.

I may not see my child hood friends for years at a time. But we have met up at vacation trips home for special  occassions,or they  dropped in here and visited with me, in the States. We have attended each others weddings and birthdays,even if just in Spirit and in emails .We have shared amny tears together,long distance .

When we meet its like no time has passed, and we are all 9, or 10, or 15 years old again.

Anil’s brother, Adesh, I was closest to in the  group of us. We both, recently have been emailing each other more,in addition to the holiday and birthday greetings.

Exactly 2 days ago,I swear, I wondered how Anil was doing,and second guessed myself about asking his brother, as I knew it was a topic that over the years that had many sad twists for the family .

I didnt end up asking .

I called my Mom,as I do daily,and she told me about Anils state .

I wished that I had sent him an email,one time even .

My brothers remained his friend, even as others had deserted him, even as he would slip in and out of his sensible speech, into sometimes not so lucid comments, probably generated from  a not so lucid mind,any more.

He was in rehab  three times .

I wondered, how many times had he cried in silencefor his wife,for the life he knew he was losing to alcohol.

Today,my brother Garvin,two years younger than I had another birthday.

I avoid using the word celebrate,as when I called my brother today to wish him great birthday wishes,he was at Anils home,helping his family prepare the home for the next two days when villagers and friends and family will drop by to share a drink,a memory and  tear.
Garvin saw him at the hospital yesterday . He wished he had not.

He said he was in the coma, and was almost unrecognizable .

The funeral is on Sunday .

I expressed to Adesh today on the phone as I called in my condolonces,that I couldnt believe we were preparing for Anil’s funeral.

He said to me, “life is impatient ,” and I thought, how true, it waits on no one.

The phone was passed around to other members of our old click ,as they each said their hellos to me.

Those who werent there yet,were on their way.

How ironic I thought, maybe if we were there for Anil last year,or the years before,after his wife left and before the alcohol took over,he would be here today.

My mom always says she sees us all of her kids,all five of us,as if we were no older than 4 years old . We certainly act like that when we are around her.

I wonder will Anils parents say goodbye to their son, the man, or the child, or both ? .

That a parent has to bury a child at any age,is tragic.

I know they will remember all the  special moments they spent with him, from the joy of pregnancy ,to first day at school,his first big deal accomplishment. The pictures in their head of first school fight and first love,and of the broken heart that broke their son.

I will not be flying home for the funeral.

I can see Anil now, alive, curly hair blowing in the wind.

I see his white cricket uniform and his beautiful wide  smile.

I can hear him bellowing out his valued opinion, and has every ones attention.

I am sad for his parents that he never got the chance to leave a little one of him behind.

Maybe that was better, I dont know .

Life gives us no comp days . Anils parents and friends and family will be sure to see that as we all say goodbye. Anil may have understood that too, as he tried to give up alcohol and mend his shattered soul, and broken heart.

Where is the love of his life?  She is probably living her life, but Anil cant do that anymore .

I wish for me, and all my loved ones that in this sadness we promise to live  one day better for Anil, because he will never ever get the chance to even live a bad one again.

Goodbye, my friend….. Rest in Peace .

You wouldn’t drink one, if i gave it to you .

But this Mothers Day,with the children as the audience ,and my husband as the waiter

I got a Mimosa in bed.

There were so many presents,each gift a symbol of a part of me that I represented in their lives.

I have four,and you have five of us,and though Dad is gone ,I know the grandkids help ease the pain of his void. I sipped my Mimosa, to pretend I was at a resort ,looked down at my badly in need of a pedicure feet,and covered them up with the bed sheet . No pedicures for me ,not today .

The kids jumping on the bed,and the baby crying,was a sign,the glass of Mimosa stood no chance of survival at this imaginary spa.

As I walked down stairs to help a lost husband in the kitchen,and my four ducklings,followed me as if I will always lead the way. They happiness I felt with the toys scattered and the baby needing to be changed and my teenager blasting music in my head, all huddled near my skirt tail, burst the seams of my heart with love .

I still feel you know the way, and the answers to all.

I know when you get you fruit basket today,cause you dont like chocolates,flowers,or drink wine,delivered 3000 miles to you in the foreign land,you call home,the whole village will know,your child sent it to you.

I know my sister will awake you with a cup of tea and breakfast ,and hug you like she was still a child .

And you will yell and tell her to behave,and she will smile with her dimpled cheeks,and your heart will melt,like on the day she was born.You will remember the joy,this unexpected bundle brought you,some twenty plus years ago.

You will dine with my brothers who will conjure up lunch,and bring you their humble trinkets to represent enormous love .The grandkids will love you today,as they do everyday,and Daddy will know you are not alone or un loved .

I am proud of you,and the mother you are, and led me to be .

My Mimosa raised to you ,my mother . I will drink to you always and wish when I am older like you,my kids will raise their glasses to me.

Spare me the popcorn,as I am trying to lose weight. Spare me the Scary movie 1 thru 10 versions, I want to feel smart tonight .

So here it was, Into the Wild. Screen play by my favorite real bad boy, Sean Penn.

Its based on a true story about a young man named Chris .

Chris,upon graduation is on a mission to enter wildnerness and leave the world behind,as he got lost in winter and cold and trees and mountains and animals .He ventures out on his own,intentionally cuts his parents off ;the rich,snob like,overbearing types. He gives up communication with his sister,whom he had a very close relationship with.He refuses the parents money, and their material offerings.He spurns the elite living they have provided he and his sister,in between the shows of wife beating and infidelity .

He has this obsession with being grounded and proving all he needs is the things that nature provided him.

I was liking this kid for not wanting to be like these God awful parents . I was thinking my 16 yhr old needs to see this movie about not wanting alll these matrerial things we tend to spoil our kids with.

He needed no money,no family,and no people.

Wait a minute,no family ,no people ?

We journey with Chris,and he sees only his destination,yet the viewer is seeing this journey that he is totally missing .

We see the journey of his parents,and witness the overbearing mother who cries for her son at night,imagining he has come home. Then there is the father,who embraces his broken wife and does not let her see him fall to his knees in agony for their son,who choses to be lost.

I am rethinking God awful parents . Are they any different to you or I ?

His Sister Billie,struggles with each holiday that goes by,why her brother has not let her know he is okay.

Why is he punishing her ,she loved him,he loved her . Love shouldnt hurt this much. Isnt hurt what he was doing to his folks ? She doesnt understand anymore . You punished them,and me,come home now

Chris’s journey is based solely on his desire to go into the wild in Alaska. To prove to himself that he needed nothing from his parents world to survive .

Along his journey he encountered many kind people that wanted to give him of them selves.

Irony is,he needed them to make this journey. But he thought he walked alone .

There was the girl who loved him. The couple whose son had done the same thing he was doing . He saw the grief of this couple,especially the mother,whom he adored. She wasnt a bad person,but why is her son making her cry so much,and wondering everyday he if was alive or dead. The old man who lost his wife and child ,who wanted him to be like his child. The role played by Vince Vaughn as the construction worker who offered him a job, and befriended him. But in his mission to be not like his parents and have money and material things rule his life,he missed out on real love and friendship. He missed the fact how his selfishness hurt his sister, and didn’t allow him to forgive his parents,who were just no different to that hippie couple he met whose son had left them behind . He was driven by his need to be some simple, artsy,salt of the earth soul,that he forgot to live.

He passed up on love throughout his journey .

In the cold of the Alaska wilderness Chris remembers the warmth of home,of family and of the friends he met along the way.

This is an awesome movie. It has so many lessons for parents who think they know what kids need,and kids who think they know it all.

There are lessons to be learned about how no social class divides us in love for our loved ones. We cry at loss, no matter how rich or poor we are. Some of us cry out loudly,some quietly,but we all cry and we all love.

The biggest lesson here is about not being so focused on finding fulfillment in the destination,that we miss out on this whole journey of beauty and wonder and love of human kindness along the way .

This is a 2007 movie, available in Dvd now.

I cant sell out the ending,as there is so much to gain and take away from the people and stories behind each of them . This is the story of Chris Mc Candless ,but its no story if it didnt involve all the other people.

Chris had to learn this lesson. Did he learn it ? Did he ever make it home again ? Did he want to ?

What I went into this movie with,and what I was expecting and what I finally came out with,were not the same things. I highly recommend it .

Bring out the tissues,and hug your kids .

I see my children’s faces in these images. I see my face in the faces of these family members, entrenched in loss and confusion and pain.

We send our kids to school, pack their little lunch bags and wait for them to come back. Tragedy, that Mother Nature made, has destroyed life as we knew it, and will ever know it. “If I knew what would happen today, I would have kept my child home,” many are saying . “The tragedy would still happen,” others say, as if to console with their words. But the inconsolable silently think, as they scour ruins and call out familiar names, that their children would have been safe at home. Thoughts like these destroy us further.

As I read and reread the news reports and I see the figures rise, and know that entire families are lost forever, my mind cannot help but stray to a school paper that I wrote 2 days before the earthquake.

It was about China’s one child policy and how would a policy like this be met in the United States.

I learned about how the Government of China has controlled the population by 300 million in the last twenty years, with this policy.

It spoke of all the grants and plusses families got towards education and housing and many other perks that one would be denied if you didn’t sign and abide by this one child agreement.

I thought how sad that people felt they had to barter their fertility and a larger family for a grant, or chance at a better life for their one child. Hopefully, a boy child, because if he was male, he had a better chance of surviving infancy and then benefiting socially and financially from China’s policy. Boys get better health care than girls, so they would have a better chance of survival .I thought how sad to be aborted because you were a girl, or just because you were number two.

More people though have become more defiant of the policy in recent years, I must add.

While I am saturated in sadness like the rest of the Nation for the Chinese people, I wonder how many of them have lost their one child in this rubble .How many, boy or girl, man or woman could not be saved.

While no child is replaceable, and no matter how much care we take with our loved ones, tragedy still hits, I wonder who searched for their child and for one reason or the other, may never hold this child again, or hold another, thanks to Chinas policy.

As I end this post, I go upstairs and count my children 16yrs, 7yrs, 4yrs and 16 months and I give thanks.

Whether it’s one or four, they are each irreplaceable little pieces of us.

I count mine 1,2,3,4 and I shed a tear for those that can’t even count to one, any more.

Life has no comp days, what a tragic way to know this.