Author: Mars D. Gill

From an early age I wanted to make connections with people from across the globe. Allowing emotions to escape the deep recesses of one’s mind, and be spilled into a sheet of paper for the world to read lays an opportunity for reader and writer to combine in a nameless bond, one of oneness, and intrigue. It bares a private part of the writer for all to see. It is daunting and exciting. If a written word can dissipate the worry from another heart, if a written word can bring to a face a smile or a tear, then that connection is complete, and a word shatters the physical distance and brings souls together in harmony and joy. This is my dream, only a dream at the moment.

When I was 15 years old, we got a new English teacher. She spoke so beautifully and clearly and made me want to be a better person. Despite my age-old struggle with language(s), I was fascinated by the world of writing. My teacher inspired me to be a constant memory keeper. I feel at some level she taught me how to think.

Now years later, I am blessed with a career and a family that keeps me busy. However it is that 15-year-old in me that is knocking on my heart and via this little personal web site, urging for outlet for my life-long aspirations of writing and as well as begging for validation of all the dreams, old and new that just do not go away. So, here I am on word press with my own website to see where my dreams take me.

Categories
non-fiction

This Will End

Spring is a happy time of the year. For me, the happiest. The birds’ orchestra. The rustling of Willow trees. The fragrance of wildflowers. And the moist, free-flowing breeze. It symbolizes life, springing abloom with a bang.
However, this year, our lives have been crippled by an organism barely alive. A virus. And I sit here watching snow tumbling from the skies, not the waft of White Ash. It’s not just attacking our health, its also crippling our expression of love.

For me, the isolation cost me only a birthday party or two. For some others, it’s their wedding. Imagine that. Advised to remain away from one another, the disease hasn’t just taken from us our lives, but also our celebrations. That’s cruel. That’s worse than a fever. It has taken from us our reliance on stability. We don’t know what tomorrow will look like. We never did, but now we know we have zero control, and that’s scary. Making me suddenly a fan of yesterday when all was normal—I was planning our next trip and my son’s birthday party, and our options were limitless. Oh, yesterday!
But this will end.
What must not finish is our ability to learn from our disasters. If we continue to put business over common sense—our thriving cruise ship industry–the oversized, mobile Petri dish of diseases, that have repeatedly made us vulnerable and sick, then we deserve all this. If we continue to not inspect how these viruses originated and refuse to mend our ways, if we refuse to invest in our healthcare, then there’s no point to the misery. We are once again being shortsighted, believing that nothing can go wrong when we live on a serial killer named the Earth studded with super volcanos, overheated with pollution, drowning under rising oceans, and overwhelmed by depleting natural resources.
And I humbly note the isolation has brought down pollution numbers by over twenty percent. Nature is forcing its kind will upon mankind. And as I sign off, I am counting my blessings. I’m not alone, surrounded by the world’s absolute best people, the hearts I love and cherish. No virus can take that away from us.

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Uncategorized

The Possible Dream

I woke up, not this morning, an hour after I slept at night. It was the wrong hour. After fretting over meetings I had the next day, my mind seemed to be settling down on a theme—the things I will never have in this life. The dreams I let go, the roads I walked by but didn’t take, the tangible jargons of my heart that would never be mine. The impossible. The irrational desires. Why dream that dream?
Come to think of it, I’m turning forty this year. It’s a wretched milestone that reminds me of how old I am and how less I may have. Let’s dissect this a little. By forty, I aimed to publish at least three of my books I have slogged, wept, and cussed at. Now let me be clear I ain’t content by publishing. It needs to be decent fiction. So here they are collecting dust. An impossible but such an achievable dream. So I counseled my mind to think of just one dream, I could latch on, believe in, only to forget everything I know for sure I will never have. I pinched my eyes, breathed guttural yoga sighs, and I saw red sand, rhythmic breaths inside a space suit on a planet I will never set foot in. But here I was inside my possible dream, one that could make me forget what I don’t, can’t, and shouldn’t have, one that took me away from planning my meetings before time, all because I freaking woke up at the wrong time. But one I could fool my mind into believing once again that in such a limited world, it’s the mind that makes everything limitless. Like God. We believe in something so pure, so lovely, never having seen the evidence of its existence. Religion makes the world go round. Beliefs run the world. Reality is fickle and fake. So build those castles. It may be the stuff of your mind that’s true as fake and shallow this real world we live temporarily in may be. Believe again. And sleep. At that ungodly hour called the night. 

Categories
non-fiction Travel

Must Get Lost to Find Meaning

We had been here before. The rocky cliffs and the overlooks were over-brimming with fond memories making us feel a little old remembering the number of visits. But then came a lady pointing her hands. The parking lot was full. That had never happened before. So, up we went in Starved Rock atop the meandering hill, past the visitor center, and the lodge, worried about the length of the walk from overflow parking lot.

Overflow parking took us through new trails and despite having been to Starved Rock many times, we were now new visitors asking for directions, seeing new sights. It felt better than our familiar plan. And nonetheless the memorable spots appeared. We walked past the picnic benches where we had sat in 2007 eating home-cooked food courtesy the big heart of my sister-like/mother-like friend. That was before we had children. It was a time we treated one another like children. We ambled across people with fishing poles and the green grass where we had come with my cousins years later.

See, when we follow plans, we gain the illusion of control. We may be lost, just don’t know about it. Control-the single most desired entity over our days, our life, our loved ones etc. And when you are lost and not know where you are going and things you wanted simply show up, a sense of shocking control of nature for the support of your plans transcends. How would life be if we simply went with the flow, glided from day to day, care-free like an un-tethered leaf, oblivious like a baby, free like a bird? Isn’t that how life ought to be lived? Don’t resist getting lost. Embrace it.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

Iceland Chronicles #2 – Sleeping in Wilderness – Final Chapter

Day 3 of Iceland

Today was the last day of Northern Iceland. We bid goodbye to Akyrurei and Dettifoss Waterfall, the most powerful waterfall in Europe, accessible by the two-mile walk in the barren, rocky surroundings of the canyon, was our first stop of many. For lunch, we took a detour to the only cafe in a hundred miles of drive west, delivering to us a rustic, photogenic recluse from the maddening crowd. Light lunch and coffee became secondary to imbibing the region’s remoteness.
Midway, the children slept, and the mountains adorned cascading steps, tumbling into lakes and oceans. The camera failed to capture the enigma. At 6 p.m., dinner again proved to be too expensive at Hofn. After the last meal of the day, we stopped at the Hoffesjokul glacier. God blessed us with solitude and the ability to lose the overflowing tourists of Iceland. Only two other couples accompanied our sunset stop.
We scheduled our night at the Brunnsholl Guesthouse, right at the foothill of the glacier. Our entry into the hotel was blocked by cows being ushered into the adjoining field as though foreshadowing our slow descent into a deeper solitude. There’s something about time spent with animals, glaciers, mountains, and the ocean—an unspoken, wordless enigma. Tonight, we left the drapes open. We were tourists, doing things we normally didn’t. Removing the night patches and the darkness of our rooms, we welcomed the sunshine of an Arctic nation with time on vacation slipping from beneath our fingers. It wasn’t so much the destination, we were sad to leave, but each other’s company, a joy of being with people we loved, lacking the stress and strife of a corporate world we worked at.

Day 4 of Iceland

On the second to last day in Iceland, we drove southeast from Hofn that was studded by one glacier after another. After Jokulsaren, the hike to the Skaftafell glacier was little over a mile. Our hard work was rewared by the meeting of a lagoon, river, and a glacier.
We posed under rainbows under the Skogafoss waterfall before hitting the Black Beach for whale watching and dinner. This night was a first. The cows at Hofn had forewarned us that deeper rural experience was coming up. Tonight, we slept in the open country in a tent with heated blankets. Meays of sheep were audible through out the night, and the pitter-patter of rain over our tent sang a sweet lullaby. I woke up early to rush my littlest across the tents to the bathroom, worried not having a bathroom would regress his potty training. It all worked out. We checked camping off our list. Furnished camping but camping, nonetheless.


Day 5 of Iceland

Although I was tired having to sleep in one position to stay warm, it was a new day, and novel experiences awaited us. First stop was Seljalandsfoss Waterfall where all went behind the waterfall (except me). After Kerid Crater we ate at another farm and returned to the secret Iceland hot springs hot bath. For dinner we ate at an Indian restaurant in Reykjavik–but coming from India, food wasn’t authentic Indian. Their photos were nice, but they too had been purchased, showing strangers.

Day 6 – Fly Back Day

Last day was upon us, and we were hungry for home. We drove out west today to kill a few hours. Looking homeward, it’s impossible to wander forever. At some point, the lost find meaning and return. So, here we were richer in experience, meaning, and bringing home gifts no one could see but our hearts.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

Iceland Chronicles #1 – The Limit of Remoteness

From the plane

On the way back from UK, we made a pit stop at Iceland. Okay, it wasn’t a pit stop, more like six days.

Day 1

The first full day in Iceland, we set off toward Akuryeri. Gulfoss Falls was the highlight today, its thunder only stolen by packed crowd and the shocking chilliness of Iceland summer. We had to stock up on winter gear for an eye-popping amount. Iceland was a wallet-emptying at a super-sonic rate type of a vacation, not something I can afford again. So, everything I saw, I took it in like it was last time I was seeing it. Here are the photos from the first day in remote Iceland.

  • From the plane
  • A brief history (airport)
  • Geyser
  • Gullfoss
  • Akyureri

Day 2

Second day delivered diversity. We started with Godafoss Falls – Waterfall of God where we spent a half hour. To learn about viking history, we visited the Laufas Museum where we saw an ancient Viking home featuring a bride’s room, a weaving room, and a study room where they met with the priest. With a dose of nature and ancient civilization, we ate a nice lunch at the Vogafjos Farm to prep for the upcoming hike. Sitting next to pregnant cows in cells eating was not refreshing, but children were entertained and questioned their love of beef burger over a lunch of beef burgers. Next, we were off trekking atop a crater in drizzle. Undeterred, Mir and I counted to keep walking and not give up. Atop, under my umbrella, we sat overlooking the crater. This followed by Dimmuborgir where we saw troll caves and lava formations, followed by Lake Viti in Krafla, my favorite stop. It was raining now, and Mir was sleeping, so we took turns here and at the Hot Sulpher pool and Namajfell which is volcanic hot pools and geysir. At 4:30 p.m., no longer able to kill time, we made it early for our most important appointment of the day – Myvatn (pronounced MeeVath) Nature Baths. Rain fell on the hot pool, turning into steam. The floor of the pool was slippery with Silica. After splurging beyond toleration, unsure if we were any younger looking, for sure I was totally dehydrated. Scrumptous Pizza at Daddi’s pizza wrapped our day. Both nights we stayed at Rjupa’s (pronounced Ryupa’s) guest house where Agnes Thorun (pronounced Ukhnes) took care of my children and gave me tips to stay safe and away from the F roads.

  • No better way to end a day
  • Laufas Museum
  • Godafoss
  • Lake Viti

Stay tuned for more Iceland adventures

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Scotland

Day 6 – Scotland Highlands

Day 6 of being away from home with just the five of us was in full swing which meant that we were getting a lot of time together–children had fights, resolved fights, had new ones, and above everything else invented new games to play together. A vacation is the ultimate bonding experience. And no bonding is complete without colliding first. Getting to know one another again breathing the moist Scottish air was recharging.

This morning, my three-year-old wanted to climb another mountain. I delivered. Conic Hill in the Loch Lomond and the Trossachs national park. Besides the vertical nature of the climb we were accompanied by the Meays of cows and on occasion, its cousin–smell of animal poop. In Scotland if you smell it, know you are in good company of lots and lots of sheep, cows, and horses. Atop our viewpoint, we had to tread carefully too. Oh the joys of traveling.
Lunch and icecream were at a riverside town called Callander. We undertook the journey to Loch Veil’s mirror sculpture with one aim – to skip the touristy lochs for quieter retreat. It was a quiet retreat.
The drive to our hotel (separated from us by a ferry) was spectacular featuring viaducts, the Ranooch Moor (Harry Potter movie location)…We wanted to be where we were longer instead of some place else so we skipped Hagrids hut altogether. Here are photo memories of Scottish Highlands on day 6.

  • Loch Lomond atop Conic Hill
  • By the Mirror Sculpture
  • What a view from the room!
  • Our landing place, accessible only through Ferry
  • Oh, the Scottish Lochs!

Day 7 – The Yellow Warning Day

Rain drenched Scotland was as riveting as the sunny one. Today we chose a back country road to the Glenfinnian Viaduct lookout and the monument (Harry Potter stops continue). Rain ceased during our hike. On yet another ferry we made it to the Isle of Skye in pouring rain. It took us entire day to take it all in–wet while going, sunnier and drier on the way back.

Day 8 – Through Urqhuart and Cairngorms back to the lowlands

Again, we woke before the town, spent time in their library/recreation room, ate breakfast, and headed out the door taking ferry away from the Inn at Ardgour for the last time, leaving sweet memories behind.
Today, we drove north to Loch Ness where my children disbelieved the Nessie monster legend. I couldn’t use it as a discipline stick. Too bad. But the presentation and the castle itself was awesome. I was saddened by its brutal history, the sheer number of attacks and the change of inhabitants. Truth is stranger than fiction. Later, we drove through Inverness, the capital of the highlands, and the Cairngorms National Park.

Before Glasgow we made a pit stop at Falkirk Park with sculptures and playgrounds for children, thanks to the expert tip from Ilene, my writer friend.

Day 9 and 10 – The City Life

Glasgow – the party town.
We rented a three bedroom unit in the heart of Glasgow. Being mentally ready and being thoroughly exhausted combined with drinking a glass of pink wine helped me sleep through the night in Glasgow where people screamed, cheered, and laughed into the night. Hey, call me boring–I need my good night sleep. I’m not a good person at 3 a.m. And we are early risers.
At 8 am, next morning, Glasgow was unrecognizable. It was a ghost town. We couldn’t find one open restaurant that could fill our empty bellies and settled for Costa coffee and buns.
An hour’s drive away, Edinburgh was truly and madly washed out. Pics here are of the castle, the royal mile (some of it), the garden clock and the restaurant we ate at with soaking wet feet and shoes.
We called it a night and next morning enjoyed the Buchanan street and Enoch Square before flying out to Iceland. We did miss the traditional dance and dresses of Scotland but took what ever it gave to us.

Pictures below are in random order from Falkirk, Edinburgh, and Glasgow.

One thing the trip gave my children was a sense of responsibility. Dua lined our shoes along the wall; she helped clean the apartment and Sahir the rental car before returning. And for that intrinsic motivation, I am thankful for this experience. Goodbye Scotland. Goodbye UK. So long.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Wales, Peak District, Manchester, and Kendal

WALES – Day 4

Nature has a way to force you into doing what you really ought to be doing. It came to us in the form of “Yellow Warning.” We had no idea what yellow Warning meant as we drove out of England into Wales’ Snowdonia National Park. The pristine untouched villages and hills of Wales were fascinating and annoyingly beautiful. Only if driving was enjoyable on one-lane roads.

I knew I had overplanned. But the thing about planning is that when plans don’t materialize you can make fast and good pivots. So, rain and wind canceled our train up to Snowdonia Mountain. As sad as my son was, I was happy to get my money back. I also got time back. We made Barmouth, and Harlech our main destinations. In between the gusts of wind, we managed a few moments on their beaches. We roamed its streets, ate their food, and climbed a narrow road for a quick hike to the Panoramic Viewpoint. Now Yellow Rain warning was our blessing. It changed plans, made them slower, and at this beautiful panoramic vista, the five of us sat alone with the wind – so happy we were not battling crowds, not one person. We sat there by ourselves till our hearts’ content. Sunny. Breezy. When we returned to the parking lot, a tour bus was parking and so were other cars. So, God – you speak to us through the “yellow UK warnings”. Only other stop we made today was atop the Harlech Castle which required driving atop the steepest road in Europe. We didn’t enter the castle, but kids got to play in their playground, and we took in the views and take-out Indian food. It was raining cats and dogs when we reached Y Pengwren, our launch pad for the night.

  • Snowdonia Ntnl Park
  • Barmouth
  • Wales towns
  • Panoramic View, Barmouth…easy hike
  • Harlech Castle

Peak District, Manchester, Kendal – DAY 5

We rose when the entire B&B and town was asleep. Not a bird chirped. We quietly slipped into our cars and into Wales oblivion. At 9, rain was replaced by sun. Drive ended at Susan’s coffee shop that served warm breakfast and fresh groceries on a farm, the last Wales stop for us. It was raining on the way to Peaks District, but we considered ourselves damn lucky because inside the park, Sun came out, views revealed, and we got to touch horses, and found ourselves only with sheep, horses, old building ruins, and mountains interrupted by quaint little villages.

If I had to change one thing about today, it would be Manchester. After seeing London, the poured-down Manchester just didn’t cut it even though it was lovely. Fittingly to my disposition, the only place I took my children here was to the John Ryland’s library. I learned that I enjoy libraries when I get to sit down and read. So, while the architecture was fascinating and the tales of their book collection mouth-watering, I wished I had more time or that I was a member who could sit and read. Manchester meant we couldn’t go to Bolton Priory. Driving to our hotel in Kendal with a cup of coffee in my hand, Kendal castle was the next destination. We absolutely savored Kendal and the castle where my children got to play and learn at our own pace for free. Best things in vacation are free indeed.

Next morning, we would leave Cumbria for the Scotland Highlands and check off some more of Harry Potter attractions. Stay tuned.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Leaving London – Windsor, Stonehenge, and BATH

Exiting London was confusing. Should we have lamented leaving the city we had just warmed up to or anticipated all else that was left to see?

We stocked up on groceries first. Completing the distance from our hotel in rain to the rental car was excruciating in a taxi, unwillingly witnessing the morning rush hour of London. We tasted what it felt like to be stuck in the influx of work into the financial capital. People held umbrellas, and walked fast. Green lights turned red, and we simply gawked, imprisoned in a timeless limbo.

Our first stop was near London, Windsor, UK, and although, we enjoyed the castle, our favorite part was the town center itself; Beautiful and charming. The only place that had a living and functioning monarch was unbeatable. Children kept asking if they would get to see the Queen or Prince Harry who lives in the Windsor Castle. I had to level set their expectations. We were commoners from America.

Our second attraction (but only from the freeway) was Stonehenge – the old, giant stones, standing tall that attract millions every year. And my favorite stop of all was the last one, a town called Bath along the English hillside with yellow buildings, numerous churches, stone streets, narrow alleys, gardens, a quaint little river cutting through it all, and enriched by live music. Walking around the Roman Baths that brought us here, surrounded by souvenir shops, all five of us sat down on the stone floor and simply listened to the violin and the singer’s tapping of shoes to the Scottish music with his eyes shut in bliss. This moment, this one moment, it was the highlight of my UK trip; the joy of free music.

Yes, we enjoyed Roman Baths, learnt a lot, but it was the music that brought this city to life. Here are the photos from our day that erased our sorrow of leaving London with more rewarding memories.

  • Bath
  • St James Cathedral, Windsor Castle

Adios England for about a day. Wales was the next sought out destination.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Loving London – Day 2

Trafalgar Square

We rose with sunshine and ate with purpose. And at 9:15, aboard a boat over Thames river, WestMinister Abbey awaited our arrival. We made sure it didn’t have to wait too long. Big Ben was ripped apart. The wonderful Abbey, the statues outside, the serene St. James Park were quick stops. Our agenda was same as the day before, one of walking the streets of London but with caution. We would take a cab in the middle of the day. Adapting to experience is what makes us better. My least favorite stop was the Buckingham Palace. Even though we timed our stop here with the change of guards, the exteriors were plagued with people. Crowd had climbed statues of the Victoria’s Memorial and for folks with three little children, there was no chance of pushing toward the iron gates to catch a glimpse or finding a foot of empty space to sit. So, we eagerly walked past and enjoyed a few moments of shady fun in the Green Park between the Palace and Wellington Arch.

  • Trafalgar Square
  • London Eye through the boat
  • Westminister Abbey
  • Prince Charles gate

At the wellington Arch, now sure of the walking asks, children were fussing. I was ready with Uber to the Trafalgar Square where we spent countless playful moments. Trafalgar Square is a melting pot of artists, pigeons, and tourists alike. Thanks to the expert tip from my cousin, we ate a splendid lunch at Dishoom. From there we walked to Covent Garden and realized deeper, the charm of London – a Charlie Chaplin-look-a-like actor made us laugh, music played like rain, and we spent a few peaceful moments before boarding the boat for Greenwich.

It took a half hour in the boat to reach Greenwich with the Prime Meridian. We climbed strenuously to make it to the 4:15 show to look at the sky tonight in real time with a real astronomer. The show calmed our huffs from the trek up and was informative. We looked at the Prime Meridian longitude where the time is zero, negative on one side, and positive on the other. GMT. After soaking in the panorama of London, we had dinner, and ice cream, knowing the boat back to the hotel would be our last. Last London Night separated us from tomorrow when we would have to enter a rental car and drive away instead of walking.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

UK Chronicles – Landing in London – Day 1

My desire for UK was fueled by my joy of literature and the wealth of writers that hailed from this place. Charles Dickens. J K Rowling. William Wordsworth. Rudyard Kipling. Heck, I was even a reading a book called The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman – another UK writer. England, with a town named Reading, was upon us, and we arrived with gumption.

Fatigue was overwritten by anticipation and the lack of realization we were here on ground zero. Plane revealed the rolling hills of the area. We shipped off our luggage directly to the hotel as we hopped on a train to the city. We had a set agenda–one of walking the streets of London. Half an hour later (from Gatwick) we stepped out and fittingly, our first stop was a cathedral, the St. Paul’s’ Cathedral where we got to sit down, pray, meditate, and immerse ourselves in the rich, royal history of this area. Famous people were buried here was not lost upon us through the crypt. A quick coffee and sugar break later, knowing we had just fell from the sky after sleepless eight-hour plane-ride, we had no intention of stopping. Meandering through bicycle event, the narrow streets, the phone booths, past the double Decker red buses, the black boxy taxis, our second stop was for my oldest and the Leadenhall Market…a market shown in the Harry Potter movies.

  • St Paul’s Cathrdal
  • Leadenhall

Respecting the limits of our bodies to not outstretch the reach of enthusiasm, we took a break at the ruins of St. Dunstan’s Church where lovers had parked themselves taking one shot after another. Dua crashed their photos or ran after pigeons.

A quiet moment later, we were atop the Sky Garden to take the 360 degree of London in for free.

Aloo Parathas from home and frequent stops for street food fueled us. But after we climbed down the Sky Tower and made our way to the Tower Bridge, it was 5:30 p.m., and we were on mile three. My daughter tugged on my hand and asked, “Mamma, where is our car? Why did you not get a car? We can’t walk all of London?” I smiled. I wanted to walk. I planned to walk, but jet lag combined with the amount of walking (6 miles per day) was testing our desires to stick to the plan. We lumbered. We huffed. My oldest dragged his feet. We got our pic taken south of the river. We saw a gay couple in white gown get married; We walked along the riverwalk past Hay’s Galleria where Jab Tak Hain Jan’s Shahrukh Khan solo song was filmed. Indian restaurant we had planned on eating at was booked. But there was another spicy Indian burger place we settled for. And to bless our tired bodies, our hotel turned out to be quiet and comfortable escape in the middle of a bustling city.

Out of our breaking bodies, came pines of desires and buried emotions. We loved London to the core. One night of ‘London Sleep’ separated us from our last day in this uniquely beautiful city.

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