The Universe does not always give you what you want, it gives you exactly what you need, at the right time and in the right place. It will take you on a wild ride you never expected to be on, and with a tenacious force put you up against your own deepest, darkest fears only to bring you out into the light and leaving you bursting with laughter. What you’re left with then is an understanding that what you thought was your misery was actually the path to your heart’s desire.

The story I’m about to tell you today is something like that but I’ll have to take you 15 years back in time, when I was 12, curious, restless and perpetually wide eyed for new adventures. I will try my best but you must also help yourself here. Start by allowing yourself to slowly slip away from where you are right now so I can transport you to the cold February afternoon in Darjeeling where it all began. Ready? Alright.

It’s much less crowded and peaceful around this time in Darjeeling, except for a few couples here and there who have traveled up the hill for quick quiet getaways. You can spot them walking with hundred layers of sweaters and jackets, trying to be at their warmest best, tugging on to each other. It’s cute. The regulars on the Mall can be found warming up the ice cold green wooden benches with their bottoms admiring the floating clouds cascade through the hills, reminiscent of their lives, maybe? The early afternoon sun is crisp and warm and constantly dodging the clouds. Sometimes, you see groups of people gather around a fire with their heads cooped up in their jackets, hardly talking to each other, captivated by the warmth of the orange flames. Fire does that you know; it’s hard to look away, it’s right there, burning, almost dancing.

It was way after lunch and not very far away from the town, we were out investigating the old ruins of a graveyard in the neighborhood of Hooker Road reading epitaphs of dead people and searching for four leaved clovers. Four leaved clovers were very important to us, finding and pressing each on our notebooks meant a wish would be granted. I was engrossed in finding the right clovers, I had a lot of wishes and I needed all the four leaves I could get my hands on. Just then, out of the blue, I noticed tiny fluffs of white fall from the sky onto my old fuzzy maroon high neck sweater. I looked up from my winter hat and saw the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed in life. Right there, at that moment ladies and gentlemen, your girl was experiencing the first ever snowfall of her life. To make the memory even more magical, it was also the 14th of February; Valentine’s Day and I remember feeling all mush and cheese for no reason at all. I was a dreamy kid, yeah. I read all the fairy tales and believed in true love’s kiss, it felt perfect to me. The snowfall had managed to awaken every atom in my body and now they were all dancing to this sudden rush of joy. Dopamine release. Ooh sweet. sweet happiness. The soft tiny snowflakes had slowly started painting the little town into a white paradise and I yelled at the top of my lungs. ‘Do you guys see it? It’s snowing!’ My sister started jumping in excitement and we ran around chasing each other with tiny snowballs in our fists till we ran out of breath and collapsed on the grass. My sister put her tongue out trying to taste the little flakes of snow, gesturing me to do the same and I remember how we all sat there on our frozen bums,with our tongues out and hearts brimming with the warmth of pure childish love, sheer happiness against the cold whiteness of that February afternoon. I dusted my old fuzzy maroon high neck sweater that had grown comfortable over the years and got up to make an announcement. I want you to remember this sweater, my old fuzzy maroon high neck sweater because it plays a very important role in the story that is going to unfold.

With both my hands on my hips, rather authoratively, I declared that we were going to go back home and make nut balls, a grandmother’s recipe that we had never attempted before until today. We raced back home and like little Christmas elves, got busy making a royal mess in the kitchen. For us, at that time, what we were doing was very poignant and important. Making nut balls! This is the part that’s going to change my life, partly, if not completely.

While working on the stove, I missed a step and slipped on a stool we had kept to reach up to the counter. A kettle of hot boiling water that was kept to boil for some reason came crashing down to fall on me. All of this happened so quick that I almost have no memory of falling. I only remember being on he floor, shocked, a hot, piercing feeling on my arm; the pain so intense it was almost numb and I remember thinking, ‘Am I going to die?’ As I lay on the there not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I saw my brother’s gathering laughter. Then I saw my sister’s face and I immediately knew that this was not one of my funny falls, shit had gone down and it was time to get super cereal! She rushed me to the bathroom and poured buckets of cold water on me. Remember? I was wearing my favorite old maroon fuzzy hi neck sweater? Clouds of steam rose from my arm like a freshly baked dish straight out of the oven and that was the first time I experienced the smell of wool, skin and steam all together, a strange smell, the memory of which still lives somewhere in a hidden chamber inside my nostrils. The burning had gone down but I realised I had made a terrible mistake; I had forgotten to take off my old maroon, fuzzy high neck sweater and now I was ready to die a little from the pain it was going to give me. As I moved to take off the sweater, a part of my skin came off from my arm and stuck to the inner sleeve. Well, that was the last time I saw my fuzzy maroon high neck sweater. I was rushed to the hospital where I spent the next 6 months recovering from what had been one the the most painful times of my life. My subconsciousness has sort of removed that time I spent in the hospital from my mind. Human mind is incredible, it only keeps memories of that which gives it pleasure, sometimes distorting the details as it happened which brings me to question, are our memories even real? Anyway, I don’t remember a lot except being in pain and a lot of people coming to visit.

When I went back to school, it almost took me about another year to fully recover and move my left arm with ease. But all these years of pain had given me a strange kind of grit, a resilience rare for a girl my age. I had inadvertently started understanding the fleeting nature of both sadness and happiness, pain and pleasure and how temporary and stupid life could be. But this also came with something I didn’t sign up for. A tremendous feeling of insecurity about my body and how I looked knowing I would never be able to wear my favorite sundresses and sleeveless tank tops ever again. For as long as I can remember, I wore full sleeves, even in the hottest of days. I wore an arm band while playing sports and never went swimming. Sometimes, I would stare up at the sky, hoping to hear from God why he let this happen to me. As time went by also started developing an eating disorder because when I looked at the mirror, all I could see was a disfigured girl who was never going to be beautiful. I was scared; of people’s opinions, of their reactions and I curled up, naturally, as how a millipede would in self defense. Fear does that to you; it will rally up different kinds of negative emotions and corner you from all sides to push you down. But it’s only when you fall that you realise that there’s a bed of feathers waiting below to hold you or who knows, you might just fly.

So what is the purpose of suffering and pain? Why must we endure loss, sorrow, violence, death, depression? We experience these things because without it we really wouldn’t know what happiness, joy, love would feel like. Without knowing the low, you wouldn’t understand the high. Would creation exist without an awareness to experience it? There would be no meaning of happiness without sorrow, no understanding of light without darkness. We all were once one; a giant star, floating by itself in the primordial ocean of pure existence when it exploded with a bang scattering parts of us (stardust) all over space. Can you believe it? We all are part of one big unit and here we are going about life trying our best to prove how different we are from each other. Science has proved that we all evolved, developed new traits, from micro organisms to amphibians to reptiles to primates to human beings. Evolution has made life what it is now, but it has made us forget that we all have the same source; that we’re all essentially One. So why do we suffer? We suffer so that we can evolve; bad life experiences happen to us so that we develop hidden traits. Take an athlete for example; if he/she does not push himself/herself constantly to break new records, he/she would never know how far or how great he/she can be. Suffering is vital for survival, it’s how we have evolved since we bigbanged into existence.

I wouldn’t have discovered resilience, courage and love if I hadn’t had the accident or if I hadn’t been depressed or suicidal. Every suffering has a purpose; for me the accident and my scar, in retrospect has taught me, shown me, embossed in me the true meaning of beauty and love. Beauty is a perspective, much like sorrow itself. I won’t lie, it took me a while to get here but would I even be writing this had I not been through what I have? This scar made me question the very nature of life and one must do that. One must ask every once in a while, this question; who am I?

I remember going home one night and standing in front of the mirror. I took off all my clothes one by one, examining my body from every angle. I saw my arm, the fall marks on the head of my knees, the cut marks on my wrist and the cigarette burn from that time I wanted to prove a point. I saw my naked self and broke down in tears with the realisation of what shit I had put my body through. All the years of exploiting it with toxic substances, alcohol and chemicals, with rejection, violence and with self doubt. As I stood there bawling, I understood how my inner world had been reflecting outside of me. It then struck me that all this while I had been seeking for answers outside of me. Isn’t it strange how subtle this veil between the inner and outer world is? Our lack of self love projects in our lives disguised as illnesses and diseases, our shadows represent the darkness within ourselves, fear disguising as patriotism, religion, control. How not embracing ourselves completely, as we are is the cause of all our sufferings. How we make grand monuments, temples and places of worships forgetting that our body is in fact the real temple. That day, I made a promise to myself to treat my body, this gift of life, my temple with the love and reverence it deserves. To help my Self that lives and experiences this life through me to wholly enjoy this journey.

The Hindu scripture talks about the Self which is similar to the theory of the Universe or God. The Self is all there is, there is nothing but the Self. Your Self and my Self are the same thing. Your suffering and your happiness is mine just as much as mine are yours; which is why we have stories. Since the time of the first cave paintings, stories have helped us remember the oneness that we have forgotten; if you read this and feel something, anything at all it means that you are living an experience through me.

Earlier today, I was drawn to the mirror again, in the washroom of a cafeteria. My friends were waiting for me outside to continue one of my stories and I was just staring at my reflection. The mirror dissolves as if like a transitional slideshow and conjures up the 12 year me. I look at my younger self and realise how much has changed. ‘You’ve done well, little one,’ I tell my little self. I instantly reel back at all the small and big incidents that have happened in my life so far and how it has shaped me and brought me here, now, at this moment, with this profound understanding. A surge of happiness sweeps in out of nowhere. Kamamutaha – Sanskrit काममूत – the sudden feeling of oneness, of love, belonging, or union with the cosmos. A tiny tear drop trickles from the corner of my eye and as I wipe it off my cheek and turn to leave, a strange discernment for this divine comedy dawns on me. Happiness and suffering melt into one for a brief moment. I glance at my reflection as I walk away and think to myself , ‘God, you are amazing!’

Until the next story…..

Love and Light,

Appy