Living in a bubble...no complaints

   Some memories float in the air: fragrances, aromas, smells; some faint, some sharp and distinct. Some memories are entrapped somewhere very deep, enmeshed in the mind, ensnaring the heart. Sounds, looks, a touch. All it takes is a little trigger to unleash bubbles, some incandescent, some iridescent, some delicate, some robust, but essentially bubbles they are and remain.

                    Earliest memory is, of actual soap bubbles that one blew as a kid, watching for hours on end, an extremely simple feat: a series of bubbly bubbles, just floating around; trying often times to catch them forever. Some bubbles burst right on one's face, leaving a soapy bitter taste The innocence of childhood, would re-launch the entire mission again with the same or renewed vigour, creating around oneself, the elusive, reflective magical bubbles again.

       Then one grows up and looks for these very bubbles, creating them all over again. Seeking beauty and peace, realising that it isn't really such a tough game! There was a time when the bubbles surrounding one in school were of truth, honesty, bonhomie, compassion, sharing-caring, giving selflessly, irrespective of caste, creed or colour. One was taught and also imbibed such bubbles, simply breathing them in. This is not to say that the antithesis of all these bubbles did not exist, but the excess of positive ones perhaps just weighed down on the negatives, keeping them reined in. 

        The other mechanism that kept these negative, though hugely glossy bubbles, in check were the small tools carried by the ones in charge, be they parents, teachers or people one accidently came across: the tools of positivity that carried around little confidence, a little conviction and a whole lot of faith, bursting ugly bubbles before they became afloat and enveloped or overwhelmed the luminescent bubbles again.

Several such memories are etched in my mind and by them I live and try to contain the gloss and look for the real bubbles, particles of the true universe as we always knew and felt it, unadulterated, gleaming and devoid of the gloss that makes it a gift from the Devil, constantly beckoning, once accepted creating nothing but havoc and pain. All of it for short term glory and materialistic gains?

      The bubbles surrounding me right now were gained slowly but surely from my family, but school was an extended family in those days and I would like to share a few memories that would perhaps allow us all to question the warped bubbles that attract us and how we get caught up in listening to strange, attractive, but devastating refrains. The first such memory is of early childhood when a birthday for us in our home meant making a modest amount of halwa (a kind of wheat based sweetmeat), offering it first to the Fire, as per our family faith and then launching off with dad to buy some fruits and visit an area that had kids, perhaps who couldn't ever get what  we had and giving joyously. The bubble surrounding one then was of contentment, happiness and sharing. When we got invited to birthday parties and attended them too we never questioned why we didn't celebrate in the same way. Because the bubble that was afloat then in our household had already shown us the pros and cons and the end result was, we all exist differently, this is our way, that is theirs, you choose which you would like to adopt. As we grew older we chose the former for a long time and the latter only in a very Spartan way, most often both going hand in hand, realising our commitment to the rest of the world, which may not always be in as fortunate a bubble as our own.

        What perhaps added more value to the value-centric bubble we already chose to live in, was a sprinkling of the missionary spirit from all schools that we studied in. One such crystal clear memory is of a school in Tiruchirapalli, a convent: in those days we had Catechism classes and Moral science and we could choose to be in any one though most Christians opted for Catechism. I had friends from all faiths but having been fascinated as a child by the Grotto in school, so different from our Idol-less faith, attended Catechism classes. One day they were to be held in our beautiful school chapel, all were allowed inside, but only the Christians, could partake of the bread and wine. So intrigued was I by this ceremony that I sneaked in with my Christian friends and when Sister came by, did exactly as my friends did. I couldn't however, survive a day with this episode weighing on my heart and soul and related it to my mom, she promptly asked me to go to Sister (Principal) and ask for forgiveness. Next morning fearing the worst, I tip-toed into the Principal's office and quickly blurted out my confession. Her answer remains with me even today, a bubble I hugely cherish, "Child we are all the children of God and that is his abode, you may have gone in there by an act of deceit, but that was not your intent, or was it? May Mother Mary bless you my child and Jesus always protect you, you are welcome in the abode of God, but avoid a repeat by the same method''. I may not remember verbatim what sister said, but the essence has remained as a bright bubble. Mom and reiterated the same and thus my bubble did not burst but remained.

I thrive and survive on a couple of such bubbles and try and pass the very same around, but slowly I see a collapse, the bubbles are bursting, even before they can take wing and fly. I am happy though that I have been able to consolidate many positive bubbles, but the ones around are bursting now cause the world has suddenly over turned, each human's little bubbles need to be inspected and checked for vanity, pride, greed and shamelessness and be replaced by just two little bubbles for now those of gratitude and honesty. (Sequel to follow)