Life, in all the ways we try to live it, we are constantly at odds with ourselves.
Who is to say we should be one or the other? How easily would you define yourself and would you easily fit in?Perhaps, its best I start at the beginning.
As a child growing up, I would look into the mirror and try to remember my face. I could remember the faces of my family, my friends and there would be a strong connection between the person and a particular feature. My dad had his moustache, my mom had her pointed nose, my cousin had the most beautiful Indian features with her long plaited hair and the tiny black bindhi on her forehead symbolic of a young Tamilian girl. I would continue to stare at my features in a photograph and try to identify with the person staring back at me.
This may probably be a phase everyone goes through but this is one of my strongest memories.
Perhaps in time to come our faces will bear the lines of time, the wisdom of experience and the strength of character but at the tender age of 4 my face was a blank canvas.
So I sit here alone in Bangalore, remembering the faces of those I love and miss.
The eyes are the windows to our soul. Does that mean larger eyes= larger souls? Then I know that my best friend with the largest eyes ever has the capacity to love more than anyone I know.
Does pain leave a permanent scar on our faces? Then how is it that one particular (Irish) redhead has the most amazing smile I have ever seen in the face of all the injustice she has borne. I can only remember the laugh lines around her mouth and her crinkly eyes that would leave me in peals of laughter not withstanding her sharp tongue and shameless humor.
How about the face that does its best to not show true emotion? The face of one of my (drunk Chinese) closest friend can appear as calm and silent as the Saskatchewan River in the middle of January. But you try to know more, you listen to the unsaid words, you read behind the expressionless face and you see how the years have left a ripple on that serene countenance. But wait just a moment; don’t rush into forming an opinion. I have had a glimpse at what lies behind this amazing face. The warmth in her eyes, the little frown, when something is unclear, it reveals her innocence. But most amazingly, it is her crooked, mischievous grin that warms my heart, like the sun just hovering behind the clouds, you wait till you can feel the true impact of her smile.
But the face that fascinates me most is the hard rugged face of my Thatha who is 92 years old. I can stare forever at his timeless face and the stories it can tell.
The hard strong face of a principled man.
The stubborn cleft on his chin that refuses to bend to this modern world’s bullying. A man who has struggled to raise his large family and never shirk his responsibilities despite the accusations and unfairness directed his way. To be a Brahmin is not easy in Independent India, but my Thatha is a proud man who has taught his children to be proud of their culture, heritage and traditions. He is a fair man with expectations from his sons, and also the humility to look at his grandchildren and accept them for who they are. Time has changed this man the strength is evident in the hard lines of his face, but the wisdom, the love, the plea for understanding can be seen in the cataract blue eyes of the man who is the head of my family.
