Suzanne Bernert

    The yearning gets stronger day by day....it starts in my legs,moves up my back and screams in my heart ... Relentless heat is beating onto Mumbai and only the wind that has started some time back carries the promise ... the promise of rain... meanwhile sweat doesn't dry on skin as it is too humid. I am dizzy a lot and am not even working this year. Difficult to make someone back in Germany understand what that feeling is... the waiting for Monsoon... When the sky opens and the blessing falls upon the earth.. End of May I always feel like nature sits in anticipation.. And so do we humans ... When Social Media starts dreaming of chai, old Kishore Da songs and sitting by the window watching the rains... Romantic time.. Germany sees a lot of rain throughout the year so they don't understand how one country can hold its breath until Monsoon starts ... Yes,we do wait for Monsoon And yes we will complain about it by August latest And yes it can bring chaos But it's ...

  Dark purple sky turning darker by the minute... extinguishing the last few orange freckles left at the end of the horizon... a Palm Tree swinging in the breeze like a slow single dancer. Walking down the road she came. Moving with grace. To her favourite spot.  And as she was stretching towards the sky... feeling it like a blanket of silk embracing her...the air was soft and warm... from somewhere she could hear one single bird chirping his melody... completely in tune with himself and the universe... craving for that same harmony she sat down on her Yoga Mat, breathed in deeply and started her chant...  Wind whispered around her. Her voice soft and strong at the same time chanting the ageless chant...like millions before her did. Falling deeper into a state of relaxation and ease...ease with herself and the world around. Just to be able to stay like this throughout the day. At ease, connected but not entangled. After the last syllable left her lips she again gazed up a...

  It might seem silly but I can't help feeling a loss...today we sold our car..my first car in India...my first tiny red Car that carried me to and fro from Kasautii Zindagii Set in Arrey Colony and Klick Nixon Studio...all the way to Karjat for Ashoka and Uttaran for Akhil..so many trips to castings,shoots,all the way to Pune so many times...it feels like it carried me with all my dreams and aspirations...my nerves and emotions..tears and laughter...and now that chapter is closing and I can't say anymore.:.'I still drive my first car that I got for first show all the way back in 2005'.. it's a tough goodbye and yes ...I am shedding tears... a car is not only 4 wheels and an engine ... it's a memory bank of all that you have travelled to and fro... and now it's gone .... thanks for the save journeys ... (The person who bought it was so excited and happy.Wish him and his family many happy and safe journeys)

Giddy with excitement she jumped out of the car...  Before her daughter could react, her mother had already crossed the road and stood in front of the elephant....  Mama..Mama.....she was yelling and weaving her way through rikshas,cars and pedestrians ...Finally joining her mom who stood mesmerized...  Mama, you can't just run like this here in Mumbai...it can be dangerous...this is not Germany...see all these cars and.... seeing her Mom with tears in her eyes her voice trailed of... Tears of happiness glistening in her eyes mom whispered: ..An elephant...I always wanted to see an elephant...and with that she turned and put her forehead against the animals trunk ... and like this they stood ....  He is telling me stories....stories of India....  And like this they kept on standing while the sun was setting and Mumbai was teaming around them...

Grief comes in waves..... Scoops you up and throws you around... gasping for air you come up..mind and body tired.... you relax a little and the next wave comes.... until the waves calm down over time... the intensity lessens... until the memory makes you smile....and you find peace and solace in the memories. ... Dedicated with love to all who left 🙏

  A small line of sweat was slowly trickling down his back while he was bending over a beautiful Linen Kurta by Mrs. Sharma who lives on the second floor in the next door building. The fan was whirring, the heat was picking up and the sounds of Mumbai enveloped him.                                                                                                        The folding had to be neat or otherwise Mrs.Shama would scold.  Not him, as he was bound to the ground floor, forever attached to his iron. She would scold his young daughter who would zoom around in the afternoon delivering the ironed clothes all over the neighborhood.  His daughter Swati, who right now was busy writing another straight line of  ‘...

She was riding high....on the shoulders of her dadi or nani, a string of her hair in her fist, surrounded by the other female members of her clan...  Colorful Saree clad cheerful procession just from one home to the other's home.. Aunt.. Mom....Sisters....Friends... All just gliding along taking up nearly all of the side street we were walking on...  I laughed and smiled...called her Chhoti Rani... she looked at me with big brown eyes, still holding her human vehicle's hair tight and sucking on it... all the women were laughing ..  yes yes...ye humari Chhoti Rani hai  .... she is our small queen.... Say Namaste Rani bitiya ...  With a shy smile and finally releasing the hair  .... Chhoti Rani waved a hi.... And with that the whole procession moved on.... And on top Chhoti Rani giggling and riding high ....