The River of Life

Since the last post I wanted so many times to write and tell you stories, but each time I was inspired to do so, it happened when I was almost asleep and the computer was off. I didn't get up and I didn't write, so all these moments disappeared, just the same way they had appeared. What happened since our last encounter?
Ah after the magic journey through India with Lilyane and Eileen, I went back home for Christmas, and suddenly realized I had return to India and allow my soul to heal, and open up into a lotus flower.
It had been way to many years of riding the train of survival and approval, it had been too many years putting off writing and dreams, for the sake of paying bills, rent and debts...It was time to let go and stand face to face with God.
So I gave up all what I owned, my rented apartment, my one thousand books, my old clothes, china, and there was nothing else to give up. I had one luggage with my writing and few clothes, and I was on the way to freedom.
On January 2nd, 2011 my journey to freedom began. I landed again in Kabul, Afghanistan for a short consultancy job for two weeks.
Kabul I knew was not there. Kabul that waited for me was grey, sad and misty. People I had left behind were still there but extremely tired, with shoulders bent and distant look. The flicker of light once I saw in their eyes was not there. Where did it go? Who took it away?
They looked at me as if asking for hope, I looked at them hoping to get hope for myself. There was none. I Wept.
The only thing hanging between us was love, the only love we knew since we met. Was love enough to keep us going in search for hope I wondered. I had now words.
Two weeks in Kabul were filled with anxiety and longing for something that I could not express, maybe I wanted to be able to say tomorrow will come.
I left Kabul without saying goodbye to anyone, I spent hours at the airport just crying for them and for myself. After all Kabul had opened up my heart and healed my soul with its love. Kabul had given me a chance to taste what it felt to live on the edge between life and death, and how to be grateful for every living moment. Kabul was a sore in my heart, and I didn't know how to say goodbye to Kabul, so I just sat there and cried while the eyes of all travelers kept avoiding a weeping woman.
Then I came back to New Delhi, a city that welcomed me with its gentleness and extraordinary wealth of nuances of feelings, culture, poetry, music, colors, food, and beautiful people... Peace greeted me at the airport, and
smiles of people began the healing process.
Ah, love began right then and there...As I told the story of Kabul, I was held with love and compassion. I understood then and there that life and death go hand in hand. I felt indebted to India because they listened and didn't ask me to forget Afghanistan.
So days passed by, I was asked to be a Scholar in Residence for the Institute of Government Accounts and Finance in New Delhi. I started training high officals from the Ministry of Finance from around the country, on Change Management. I met wonderful people with deep eyes, big hearts and extraordinary generosity. I tasted all kinds of different foods from north to south and loved their sweets; I danced with them, started learning Hindi so at least I could say thank you for healing and for their love.
For example Sujata is holding my dreams and she becomes magic when we talk about possibilities and change.
Abha inspires me to build worlds, so we are trying to develop a women's tv network program; with Shubhangi we go to concerts and sing;
With Induja I try to give her my "love handle pillows" from my belly so I can be thin like her and she could gain some weight like me.
With Amrita we discuss future and our intelectual responsibility to society and ourselves; Prima is ever searching the true nature of love.
With Girish I laugh and dream.
With Babar we search for the right asnwers and freedom of the mind.
With Rabat I dance.
With Jugni we talk about boyfriends.
With Vandana film becomes a vehicle of expression.
With Megna dreams are ever possible and we reach out for the stars.
Smitha then rushes to become a lawyer so we can work together.
Mr. Mittal from his beautiful tea shop teaches me the Art of Drinking Tea with passion and elegance, and his store remains an everlasting fairy tale place for dreams through the flavor of teas.
Mr. Butani opens up the world of publishing and the books, suddenly we are both in love with letters and people who write stories to make this life richer. His small publishing house prints some grand names and I am accepted to be among them, so writing is back for me finally.
With Ashok Kumar yoga shapes my body and mind as he comes three nights a week to help my back and knees bend; his body friendly technique does not tire or hurt my body instead through his smile love flows and heals my bones.
And Surat every day reminds me not to be late for my workshops, as the kitchen staff serves me tea three times a day I shine.
What more could I have asked for? I said yes to life and the journey began.
Now as the time is getting closer to go back home and leave India, it is very difficult to part.
So thank you INDIA, thank you for your LOVE and for holding my dreams.
I LOVE YOU