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A couple watching TV on the living room couch, a mother and her 3 kids, perhaps finishing a late Sunday dinner. A group of friends smoking and drinking on the porch around a wicker table listening to the tune of Kenny G. I smile softly at the sight I just absorbed as the air was filled with positive energy and tranquility.
I sit on the bench close by and look up at the stars in the dark Velvety sky trying to count how many there were. I then give up and look for the largest Star in the Sky.
My eyes fill up with tears as memories of a similar moment come rushing back. When I was around 11 years old, my father would take us on a walk sometimes after dinner as a treat and we would sit on the bench counting the stars while having an ice cream or a chocolate. He would tell us to look for the biggest Star and when I pointed to one, he would say that it was his father, my grandfather, watching us from above and protecting us every day.
And as I continue to search I see a pair of Stars close to each other, small but shining and flickering bright. They stood out like Diamonds in the Sky. Tears rolling down my cheeks, I let out a deep breath. I found them at last, looking down on me and shining their light on my path.
I blow a kiss to both the beautiful sparks in the sky. I then cajole, threaten and plead with them to be there everynight when I come looking for them. In response they flicker – faster and brighter, as if to say they understood.
The two most precious shining lights of my life, who have illuminated my path constantly with their Love, their kindness, their wisdom, warmth and generosity as long as they were alive;
And now they continue to illuminate my Path at every hour of darkness or doubt like these two beautiful bright stars in the Sky.
The Pain of losing such a precious presence – both my Parents within such a short span of time is intense and perhaps will never go away. The wound will never completely heal.
But, Hope as they say – is the Oxygen of the heart. I hope that their Souls are those stars above, shining down on me and guiding me – And as my Father reminded me in a dream a few months ago, “My child, I may be dead in one time zone , but I am aliv e in another”….
Yes, I am a dreamer and I continue to believe in this dream. And as Oscar Wilde says, “For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight – and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
– Jani
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon of 1976 in Kabul, Afghanistan. Sara had just got back from school and hastily downed her snack of peanut butter sandwiches and gulped down a glass of warm milk that I had prepared for her. She was excited. “Mama, my friends will be home any minute and we plan to go to the ‘Shar- e- Nau’ park to collect leaves and pine cones for our school project. Will you come?” “Of course, Sweetheart, how can I miss all the fun?” I said, pulling her cheeks gently.
She picked up her jute bag and sat down in the corridor of the apartment waiting for her friends impatiently.The bell rang and Sara ran to open the door. Mina, Elena, Hamida and Walid were crowding behind each other trying to look in through the peephole. Shouting, Laughing and pushing each other to try and see inside. They straightened up as soon as they saw me, trying to hide their embarrassment. “Salaam halajaan! (hi Aunty!) Are you coming with us?” Walid, the oldest in the group asked sheepishly. “Can’t leave you little lambs alone, can I ?” The park was a 15 minute walk from our house and a breezy, sunny and cheerful Autumn day with a handful of c andies made the walk even better.
When we reached the park we looked around in awe at the beauty surrounding us. It was like a scene out of a Painting. Nature had painted a masterpiece that was priceless. Art that was not confined to the homes of millionaires – free for anyone willing to participate and soak in its beauty. Tall, stunning trees with leaves of such a beautiful hue of colors and sizes ranging from light brown, orange, green, yellow and vermillion cascading around. The ground had perhaps the most beautiful and colorful carpet that was alive and constantly changing shape. Autumn is probably the most beautiful season of nature. Most would say Spring but Spring has to be beautiful because it is a time of blossom, a time of giving birth and new beginnings. But Autumn – It is different. Towards the end of their life span, even as the the leaves and trees are dying, they surround us with bewitching beauty, color, life and joy. You almost want to hug it and say, ‘Thank you Autumn, for saving us the best for last….’
The kids were besides themselves with joy. They ran around picking leaves, pine cones and pebbles of various shapes colors and sizes. Chattering away incessantly with a wide eyed look of amazement at such a treasure trove of natural beauty. Their innocence was endearing, their laughter infectious.
I sat on a bench and watched their happy, excited faces soak in the beauty of that moment where everything was perfect. The cool breeze, the sun lounging lazily behind the trees, the picturesque trees, and above all the joy of their friendship. Their happiness rubbed off on me and I felt good. I picked up a leaf the color of burnt orange lying on the bench next to me. It was the size of my palm and had beautiful large and small veins running thru it. I put the leaf in my bag and decide to use it later as a bookmark.
Looking at these little energetic bubbles of life running around and chattering incessantly, I knew then that this would be one of those days etched in their memory forever – to be drawn on later and fondly remembered as a priceless moment of utter joy that was so simple and pure. Moments that would not be so easy to achieve as they grow older and get caught up in the mindless race for success and superficial growth.
What would we not give as adults to experience the simple joys of life with friends who have no other motive but to share that moment and feel blessed at the opportunity……
I couldn’t help wondering that the bond between children and Nature was so magnetic because they have the same personality. They are both pure and innocent. Generous and giving – And Sensitive – yes, easy to hurt them, but they forgive just as quickly.
No matter how we treat them, they repay us with kindness and put a smile on our faces. Above all they continue to trust us again and again. I found myself (with slightly moist eyes) wishing and hoping that it is this trust that should not be washed away as they grow older. Praying that their experiences in life enrich them and make them better humans, a rare and dying breed that the world desperately needs at this time….
– Jani
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon of 1976 in Kabul, Afghanistan. Sara had just got back from school and hastily downed her snack of peanut butter sandwiches and gulped down a glass of warm milk that I had prepared for her. She was excited. “Mama, my friends will be home any minute and we plan to go to the ‘Shar- e- Nau’ park to collect leaves and pine cones for our school project. Will you come?” “Of course, Sweetheart, how can I miss all the fun?” I said, pulling her cheeks gently.
She picked up her jute bag and sat down in the corridor of the apartment waiting for her friends impatiently.The bell rang and Sara ran to open the door. Mina, Elena, Hamida and Walid were crowding behind each other trying to look in through the peephole. Shouting, Laughing and pushing each other to try and see inside. They straightened up as soon as they saw me, trying to hide their embarrassment. “Salaam halajaan! (hi Aunty!) Are you coming with us?” Walid, the oldest in the group asked sheepishly. “Can’t leave you little lambs alone, can I ?” The park was a 15 minute walk from our house and a breezy, sunny and cheerful Autumn day with a handful of c andies made the walk even better.
When we reached the park we looked around in awe at the beauty surrounding us. It was like a scene out of a Painting. Nature had painted a masterpiece that was priceless. Art that was not confined to the homes of millionaires – free for anyone willing to participate and soak in its beauty. Tall, stunning trees with leaves of such a beautiful hue of colors and sizes ranging from light brown, orange, green, yellow and vermillion cascading around. The ground had perhaps the most beautiful and colorful carpet that was alive and constantly changing shape. Autumn is probably the most beautiful season of nature. Most would say Spring but Spring has to be beautiful because it is a time of blossom, a time of giving birth and new beginnings. But Autumn – It is different. Towards the end of their life span, even as the the leaves and trees are dying, they surround us with bewitching beauty, color, life and joy. You almost want to hug it and say, ‘Thank you Autumn, for saving us the best for last….’
The kids were besides themselves with joy. They ran around picking leaves, pine cones and pebbles of various shapes colors and sizes. Chattering away incessantly with a wide eyed look of amazement at such a treasure trove of natural beauty. Their innocence was endearing, their laughter infectious.
I sat on a bench and watched their happy, excited faces soak in the beauty of that moment where everything was perfect. The cool breeze, the sun lounging lazily behind the trees, the picturesque trees, and above all the joy of their friendship. Their happiness rubbed off on me and I felt good. I picked up a leaf the color of burnt orange lying on the bench next to me. It was the size of my palm and had beautiful large and small veins running thru it. I put the leaf in my bag and decide to use it later as a bookmark.
Looking at these little energetic bubbles of life running around and chattering incessantly, I knew then that this would be one of those days etched in their memory forever – to be drawn on later and fondly remembered as a priceless moment of utter joy that was so simple and pure. Moments that would not be so easy to achieve as they grow older and get caught up in the mindless race for success and superficial growth.
What would we not give as adults to experience the simple joys of life with friends who have no other motive but to share that moment and feel blessed at the opportunity……
I couldn’t help wondering that the bond between children and Nature was so magnetic because they have the same personality. They are both pure and innocent. Generous and giving – And Sensitive – yes, easy to hurt them, but they forgive just as quickly.
No matter how we treat them, they repay us with kindness and put a smile on our faces. Above all they continue to trust us again and again. I found myself (with slightly moist eyes) wishing and hoping that it is this trust that should not be washed away as they grow older. Praying that their experiences in life enrich them and make them better humans, a rare and dying breed that the world desperately needs at this time….
– Jani
OIL ON CANVAS | 70CM x 120CM
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon of 1976 in Kabul, Afghanistan. Sara had just got back from school and hastily downed her snack of peanut butter sandwiches and gulped down a glass of warm milk that I had prepared for her. She was excited. “Mama, my friends will be home any minute and we plan to go to the ‘Shar- e- Nau’ park to collect leaves and pine cones for our school project. Will you come?” “Of course, Sweetheart, how can I miss all the fun?” I said, pulling her cheeks gently.
She picked up her jute bag and sat down in the corridor of the apartment waiting for her friends impatiently.The bell rang and Sara ran to open the door. Mina, Elena, Hamida and Walid were crowding behind each other trying to look in through the peephole. Shouting, Laughing and pushing each other to try and see inside. They straightened up as soon as they saw me, trying to hide their embarrassment. “Salaam halajaan! (hi Aunty!) Are you coming with us?” Walid, the oldest in the group asked sheepishly. “Can’t leave you little lambs alone, can I ?” The park was a 15 minute walk from our house and a breezy, sunny and cheerful Autumn day with a handful of c andies made the walk even better.
When we reached the park we looked around in awe at the beauty surrounding us. It was like a scene out of a Painting. Nature had painted a masterpiece that was priceless. Art that was not confined to the homes of millionaires – free for anyone willing to participate and soak in its beauty. Tall, stunning trees with leaves of such a beautiful hue of colors and sizes ranging from light brown, orange, green, yellow and vermillion cascading around. The ground had perhaps the most beautiful and colorful carpet that was alive and constantly changing shape. Autumn is probably the most beautiful season of nature. Most would say Spring but Spring has to be beautiful because it is a time of blossom, a time of giving birth and new beginnings. But Autumn – It is different. Towards the end of their life span, even as the the leaves and trees are dying, they surround us with bewitching beauty, color, life and joy. You almost want to hug it and say, ‘Thank you Autumn, for saving us the best for last….’
The kids were besides themselves with joy. They ran around picking leaves, pine cones and pebbles of various shapes colors and sizes. Chattering away incessantly with a wide eyed look of amazement at such a treasure trove of natural beauty. Their innocence was endearing, their laughter infectious.
I sat on a bench and watched their happy, excited faces soak in the beauty of that moment where everything was perfect. The cool breeze, the sun lounging lazily behind the trees, the picturesque trees, and above all the joy of their friendship. Their happiness rubbed off on me and I felt good. I picked up a leaf the color of burnt orange lying on the bench next to me. It was the size of my palm and had beautiful large and small veins running thru it. I put the leaf in my bag and decide to use it later as a bookmark.
Looking at these little energetic bubbles of life running around and chattering incessantly, I knew then that this would be one of those days etched in their memory forever – to be drawn on later and fondly remembered as a priceless moment of utter joy that was so simple and pure. Moments that would not be so easy to achieve as they grow older and get caught up in the mindless race for success and superficial growth.
What would we not give as adults to experience the simple joys of life with friends who have no other motive but to share that moment and feel blessed at the opportunity……
I couldn’t help wondering that the bond between children and Nature was so magnetic because they have the same personality. They are both pure and innocent. Generous and giving – And Sensitive – yes, easy to hurt them, but they forgive just as quickly.
No matter how we treat them, they repay us with kindness and put a smile on our faces. Above all they continue to trust us again and again. I found myself (with slightly moist eyes) wishing and hoping that it is this trust that should not be washed away as they grow older. Praying that their experiences in life enrich them and make them better humans, a rare and dying breed that the world desperately needs at this time….
– Jani
Then a Woman asked, Speak to us of Joy & Sorrow. And he answered; Your Joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?The deeper that Sorrow carves into your being,the more joy you can contain. Is it not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that burned in the Potter’s oven? And is it not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with Knives?When you are Joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you Joy.
When you are Sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say,” Joy is greater than Sorrow’, and others say “Nay, Sorrow is greater”. But I say unto you, they are inseparable.Together they come and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep in your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
– Khalil Gibran – The Prophet
Enrich.Educate.Empower
A collection of short stories & Poem
A collection of Pallette knife oil paintings
Enrich.Educate.Empower
A collection of short stories
A collection of oil paintings
