tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77589053857553106432024-03-13T08:29:27.248+05:30Coming of AgeSometimes the most ordinary piece of junk is more Meaningful than we give it Credit for.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-76036271622504386242011-07-31T23:41:00.004+05:302011-07-31T23:49:58.592+05:30Me and You<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Sometimes I am the most difficult,<br />Other times I am in a bad mood,<br />Most of the times I am lost,<br />And rest I am always crude.<br /><br />But then there are moments in the day,<br />When I am full of glee,<br />Nothing to worry, everything is ok,<br />And they give me hope to be.<br /><br />Sometimes it is the rain,<br />Sometimes the bright stars,<br />Sometimes it is a story,<br />Sometimes the flowers.<br /><br />Then I found happiness and joy,<br />When I started knowing you,<br />I found I could trust you,<br />Maybe a friend could be You.<br /><br />You never lied to me,<br />You never tried to ignore,<br />You never broke me,<br />Or made me sore.<br /><br />I became my worst rival,<br />When I did what I did,<br />Knowing not how to undo,<br />When I hoped I had missed.<br /><br />You are right if you are angry,<br />You are right if your upset,<br />And I am no better with myself,<br />More than you know I regret.<br /><br />I don't know what I say,<br />I don't know what I do,<br />But I know one thing for sure,<br />My best friend were you.<br /><br />I wish that you forgave me,<br />I wish that you laughed,<br />I wish that we wished together,<br />I wish in hope I bathed.<br /><br />But that's just me I guess,<br />Not so different from You,<br />And maybe someday,<br />Us will know Us too!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-size:78%;" ><blockquote>**A past for the present!</blockquote></span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-31352717782837271132010-07-06T22:30:00.006+05:302010-07-06T22:58:08.969+05:30To have Loved and Lost<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He could see the clouds gathering in. It was time. He didn’t know whether he wanted to smile or cry at the expected irony. Of course it was going to rain. As if there weren’t enough frogs croaking around him these days! And then he sighed. He wished for those rain filled clouds to fill the void that had grown inside him. He hoped they could do the job, because he wasn’t sure what would. After 8 years, he was where he had stood before. He pondered whether he was any different from then... <span style="font-style: italic;">Hmmm! Maybe lesser hair!</span> Finally he managed a broken smile, but he knew this was just the beginning.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He felt the warmth and cool on either of his cheeks together. The drizzle couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. Sometimes it seemed like humans got their flair for dramatics from Providence itself. But that was just the beginning of the torrent. It seemed like the skies weren’t done with him yet. The downpour came suddenly, without restraint and relentless. It seemed like the clouds would empty themselves in one go but he knew better. He could just stand there at the top of his bubble and wish life had given him either a colder heart or cut him some slack. Her words of by Chance or by Choice echoed through him now. And the echoes didn’t seem to end in that void.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;">He sat in the room alone and yet he couldn’t stop smiling. He dared think that maybe this was something like heaven. He finally knew what it felt like building a family, if anyone could call it that. What he had realized was the fact that people who were meant to be with each other, found each other somehow. And if they were smart enough to hold on come-what-may, that’s what a family was all about. And he finally managed to get himself off the bed with his grin; she would be home any minute and he really didn’t want to stink when she barged in.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;" >Tttttrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnn, </span><span style="font-family:courier new;">the doorbell rang right when he came out of the shower. He couldn’t help grinning opening the door in that state. Her smile when she looked at him slowly grew into a grin itself and she pushed him back, locking the door behind her, while she threw her bag aside.<br /><br />“I like what you have done with the place”, she said.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Wait till you see my plans for the weekend!”, his grin had grown the usual devilish twitch.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Just see?”, seemed like she wanted to play this game for some more time, and he wasn’t in a hurry to end it himself yet.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Completely depends on how much you want to enjoy my efforts”, he turned around walking towards the wardrobe. Before he had even reached it, he could feel her breath on his nape, and the grin faded into a sigh with his eyes closed. He knew the time for words was over. He turned around again and looked at her looking back into his eyes. It was time to take the leap.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“I am afraid this heaven won’t last forever.”, he managed to finally speak while helping her with dinner. Their small family was going to be home soon.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“It will! Don’t think otherwise. You have me, remember?”, she turned back and kissed him. He never seemed to want to let their embrace break. But she made him confident enough to believe that they will embrace again. And he smiled while she turned back to wind up dinner, knowing very well that she needed him to believe in what she was trying to instil in him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Soon after dinner, he watched them all sleep right in front of him while snow fell outside. His love for rain was immense, but he had recently realized that the silent fall of the frozen specks of snow made one’s thoughts so much louder. But then all he was thinking was that maybe life wasn’t that unfair. He had found not just one, but three of them. Three beacons- which always beckoned him home. Trying to keep each and every one happy was sometimes taxing but it was all completely worth it, especially when they surprised him back with efforts to keep him happy. He smiled, and knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them woke up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He went back to his room, drenched to his bones. He laughed at the concept, knowing very well he had been soaked even deeper. Life had become so busy, that everyone that mattered to him seemed so far away. And he wondered whether it was all worth it. True, that he knew why he was there. He had strived to reach here, hard or not, but he had persisted. And now that he was here, he owed to everyone that had stuck by him during his struggle, to make the maximum out of it. He lived everyday thinking the same thing; <span style="font-style: italic;">I have to be better than I was yesterday today. </span>Many days he failed, many he succeeded.<br /><br />Things were in place, but he knew why they were out of place. The distance that had never bothered him, had now become excruciating. The hope that was there was all gone. As always, he had to make a choice between what he wanted and what he thought was right. It dawned on him how foolishly he should realize to choose in the beginning what seems inevitably right. But the dawning had no effect on his desires and wishes. Some choices are by choice, some are by chance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He changed into some comfortable clothes and lay down on his bed. It was fresh, cold, and felt empty. He knew he had to get back to work soon. But for now, he wanted to just lie there and let the feelings reach back where they had come from. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:courier new;">He saw her after a month, even though it seemed never ending back then. And as soon as they met, they knew they had been missing each other relentlessly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Hey!”, he smiled. She looked at him, smiled and pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her left ear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Hey”, that one single word made him want to grab her and steal her away from everything around. But he just let his hand rest on hers over the gear stick that she shifted then. The warmth seem to spread across his body and the blood rush to her cheeks. The hands automatically caressed each against each other while he stared at her and she stole glance at him while driving</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“You should focus on the road”, he jested.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“You should stop distracting me”, she retorted with a twitching smile.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“What did I do?” he couldn’t have looked more glad to be guilty.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“Yeah Right!”, she finally grinned fully. He knew then this drive might be short, but they were going to make every moment of it worthwhile.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He woke up with a start! The reminder on his cellular jolted him to the confines of his room. What was he dreaming? He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he needed to remember it. He knew he was being paranoid, but it seemed like he had to remember it. He tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail. He had lost track of it. Frustrated he sat up and looked out. Night had silently crept around him. But the downpour continued. But through all that, he looked for the moon. And when he couldn’t find it, he wished he had the words to put down his feelings. And then he remembered. There was something in his past that he had borrowed from his recluse into melodies. He rushed to find it again and find it he did. And when he listened to it, he knew why he had remembered it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Oh wary night! Abate thy hours. Steal me a while from my own company.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Let me Sleep,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >For when I Sleep, I dream that you are... here, Your mine</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And all my fears are left behind. I float</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >On air. The nightingale sings gentle lullabies,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >So let me close my eyes....</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And sleep, a chance to dream, so that I can see</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >The face I long to touch, to kiss,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >But only dreams can bring me this.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br />So let the moon shine</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Softly on the girl I long to see,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And maybe when she dreams,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >She’ll dream of me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Hide beneath the clouds,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Whisper to the evening star,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >They tell me that Love is just a dream away</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >A dream away.... a dream away.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >So let the moon shine,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Softly on the girl I long to see,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And maybe when she dreams,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >She’ll dream of me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />He stopped after a few times. He felt light in his head. He needed to get out. In the wee hours of the night, he strolled out. It was time to let go. But if he knew it, why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like there was that void at his core, which will consume him? Why did he feel like the cruellest and yet the most helpless soul to be walking this road?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> <span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />“What do you want to do now?”, she asked him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“There isn’t any question of what we want anymore”, he replied. The coldness in his voice was evident to himself, and he wondered about the sadness they hovered over her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">“There is no hope left. And I don’t want you to wait for someone who will never be able to give you what you want and deserve.” He knew the words needed to be said out aloud. <span style="font-style: italic;">Don’t do this. This is killing you, imagine what it would do to her. </span>But he knew this reality would not change. And he didn’t want to stake his and especially her life on what was unfathomable.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He didn’t remember all her sad words, but what both of them went through was engraved in his heart forever. He had heard her tears from afar, and felt them burn his face. Her heaving sighs hurt his chest. And he felt drained. Right now he wanted to fall into a deep endless pit, not to surface until the void was gone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He looked up, and somewhere behind the clouds, the sun was rising. But this was not a morning he revelled in. For her words he will never forget, “You promised you will always be there, no matter what. You couldn’t keep it. <span style="font-style: italic;">But why did you lose your hope</span>?” He knew she wouldn't understand. Neither would he.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >To have hope for my hope!</span></span></span> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-30575002483477161442010-01-03T22:01:00.002+05:302010-01-03T22:10:14.098+05:30Lost and Found<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The morning is grey and cold. The pitter patter of rain feels like soft drums on the inside of my head and I look out of my balcony into the canvas of the sky, painted randomly by the colours of clouds, or is it? I still haven’t figured out which one of my personas held the answer to it. The optimist – who thinks everything happens for a reason; or the objective – who believes there’s enough proof to suggest that it is plain chaos. As always, I smile realizing my dual perspectives, and picture two best friends arguing in the intricate setting of my mind. And then both end up laughing at the futility of arguing, and move on to doing what they had intended in the first place, play together.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We seldom realize the importance of lessons we learn as kids. And because generally the wisdom of a child is ignored or shrugged off, the ones who do manage to retain it, find themselves deprived of freedom to live through those lessons and often judged for their ‘</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >immaturity</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">’. I knew there is a child in everyone at any age, but life has taught me- people, and by it I think of the social conventions, find it really hard to accept that probably the simple-minded child inside them is right than their mature and experienced logic.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I can’t help sniggering. The rain really does make me feel like my usual self, even in the freezing cold. It is good to be able to question yourself and challenge everything you know and live by. That is the kind of confusion I miss from time to time. The beauty of life is always finding the precious patterns in the chaos all around us. And I look down to the pond in the garden, hoping to find the random mixture of ripples the rain-drops created in it. And then suddenly the smile fades. It hits me like an old wave crashes upon the same old cliff, neither yielding, not because they won’t, but because they can’t. The pictures, the words come rushing back, and so does the emptiness. I turn around only to look back once more at what has unlocked the void I avoid every day of my life – a rain toad!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">****************************************************************************</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Hey!”, I said over the call.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Hey bro! How have you been?”, the fact that he recognized my voice made me regret that I hadn’t called earlier, at least without an agenda.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Been good! Congratulations on the new job.”, I replied.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Thanks buddy. Who told you?”, he asked, surprised. I grinned at the fact that he didn’t think I followed my friends now on then on their status on our social network.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Not you. Still you owe me a treat.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Anytime your Highness finds the time to grace us with his company, you geek!”, I was amused at the fact that he had conveniently skipped the topic that he wasn’t the one who had mentioned the news to me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Definitely. It’s a King’s duty to cater to his subjects’ wishes. For now, the King needs your services peasant.” I didn’t have much time for playing verbal tag.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“What do you need bro?”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“I want her address.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Why don’t you ask her yourself? And what makes you think I have it? And why do ‘you’ need her address?”, his voice seethed of tease. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Firstly, your wife mentioned you guys are part of the same vacation club. Secondly, I want to send in a surprise invitation to my party next month to some of the old friends. It won’t be much of a surprise if I ask her directly now would it?”, I lied about the party, and then regretted the fact instantaneously that I would have to cover up big-time later. But that would come much later. First things first.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“I hope my invitation’s coming in soon. I will text you the address. For now I have to go, got to make impressions on my new job.”, he took the bait. And I received the address in two minutes. He was efficient in his tasks. The new company had made a smart decision in choosing him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">***********************************************************************************</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Hey,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">How are you? I am guessing you have already seen to the end of the letter as to who I am, and if not it will be better if you do. Only thinking that I am able to share my thoughts with you makes me smile. First of all, I hope you are still in one piece and without any scars considering your mind-boggling dexterity and body-control. And secondly, have you lost weight? I mean you really needed to!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It’s been 10 years. Imagine that. I am already imagining the grey in your hair. I don’t think you will have to try that hard to imagine mine. It’s a long time and so much has happened and changed. I would try foolishly to put it all across in words here or even write a summary. It’s a decade of our lives. All I will say is, I am still looking forward to the time when we can sit together and share it like before.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I still remember the time clearly when we fought. And suddenly we had to part. I know you had your reasons, and they weren’t wrong. What I hate is the fact that I had to give up my closest friend, my best friend. But we did agree that we couldn’t find another way out of it. And our friendship will never be understood as it should be. It will only make the lives of our loved ones more complicated, in present and future. I don’t blame you for taking things maturely. I knew that the kid with me might have decided to grow up, but she didn’t do it without considering what it would do to me. The words uttered, the tears shed and the heartbeats missed are still etched in my memory. I still wonder if lovers have such a feeling of loss parting ways, even on tragic terms, the way my best friend and I did.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I never searched for your replacement. I didn’t want to. I did find my life partner. You will love her, maybe not as much as me though. She’s been my pillar of strength and my companion through all these years. She still gets bugged when I shift to my moods of silence, solace and introspection now and then. And you won’t be able to guess what she says when I smile and tell her I will just need time. She says if only I had someone to talk to in these moods of mine, she would get much less wrinkles. Even though we have our differences and furious fights, things are </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">lovely</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Guess what I saw the other day in the rain. A ‘</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">barsati maindek’ </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">(or </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">maindeki</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, I couldn’t tell)! I miss my little friend every time I see one of those. And this time it was just too much. Enough time has passed for me to live with this void. And enough, I hope, for you to have sorted things out. I told you earlier also that all it needed was time and a change in proximity. Life will never be made of easy choices. But losing things what mean the most to us by ourselves is never part of the right choice, however hard it may be. I didn’t want you to make such a choice, even though it meant moving away for a while. But the wait has become long enough. I want that best friend back, and am asking for her. I hope I have not lost her. I can’t wait for you to make the first move anymore.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I still don’t want it to cost you anything precious in your life. We will always have what we have. This is my gamble to take more from life. And I know I might lose. But you know me... Never Give Up!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">If you think I won, meet me at our Tree on Sunday. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">P.S. If I lost, I will wait. Don’t blame yourself. I am stronger than you think I am. And you are fairer than you think you are.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">************************************************************************************</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">She wiped her tears and couldn’t help smiling at his stupid style of writing. She read the letter over again and once more. She finally folded it into its envelope and put it where it belonged. She looked up at the wall of pictures. She saw the centre of her life in each of them, her family. She smiled and got back to work. It was Saturday. Her husband and she had a date tonight. She had to get everything finished by then.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">************************************************************************************</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">He strolled around the tree for the millionth time. She probably isn’t going to show up, he thought. He understood her situation. But he also hoped it turned out favourable for them. But he had long given up counting too much on hopes. Maybe this was just another hope against hope. Or maybe he needed to wait more. Well it won’t be the first time, he smiled. And then he felt that void eating away at his insides. He looked farther towards the park, and felt better at the sight of his wife. She was lying their lazily reading her book. She looked at him and smiled. Of everything in the last few years, he was grateful for her.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Sorry”, he heard a small voice utter at the same time he felt something hit his leg.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">He looked down and saw a little girl, not more than 5 years old, in a pink little frock, holding a brighter pink shade of cotton candy, which had lost its fluff and gotten mashed up together, the masher being his leg. The girl looked with despair at her now deflated cotton candy and he resolved there and then to get her a new one. But before he could utter a word, she started shrugging off the candy from his jeans. He thought she couldn’t get any more dearer and finally scooped her in his arms.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Sorry!”, she said with a smile now face to face with him, still holding her cotton candy tightly in one of the hands. He could have forgiven her for bull-ramming him then and he giggled at the concept.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“It’s Ok little angel. Where did you get the candy from?”, he asked, eyeing the candy. She moved the candy away a little bit noticing his attention to her candy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“You can get it from there”, she pointed to the far direction beyond the hill.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Would you like to get some more of it? This one isn’t cotton anymore.”, he said, endeared by her effort to keep her sweets away from any takers.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Yup! But I will have to finish this first, otherwise if momma daddy see me with two, they will scold me.”, she said, and started gulping down her cotton candy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Where’s momma and daddy?”, he asked realizing he better make sure the parents knew where their little princess was.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Momma issh foghting widd oldsh candy man overz da prish an daddish shtaying shu shpay.</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">”, she mumbled in between chewing her candy. It was amazing how quickly those little jaws could finish such huge sweets. Another trick lost with age, he thought. He tried to reminisce his earlier years quickly to search for all the happy moments, and the fact that he had lost his best friend to time hit him full force. Tears welled up in his eyes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Hey... don’t cry! You can have some of my candy.”, she offered some strings of sugar from what was left on the stick.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">He smiled between the tears. “Thank you sweetie, but it’s not candy. I just realized I lost something very valuable to me and I might not be able to find it again.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">“Then let’s find it. I find things easy.” Then she did what sent a breeze of warmth through his being. She wiped his tears with her small soft hands. He smiled.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Suddenly she got a big smile on her face and pointed in the hills direction. “Look there... it’s Momma. See I found Momma. She’ll help too.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">She walked towards them smiling her trademark big smile, with her own cotton candy in one hand. He smiled back. Suddenly 10 years seemed like they had flown by. And the wait was over.</span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-47798464770127410632009-12-02T15:42:00.002+05:302009-12-02T15:51:21.845+05:30An Ode to The Gift<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lying in the bed, in the bone-crackling chill of the winter, warmed by his quilt, he stared at it. Holding it in his hands, as if there was some way to bring it back to life, if he kept willing it. But somehow he knew that won’t happen. To every corner around he could turn to salvage its remnants, he did. But everyone had the same answer- it’s lost.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He still remembered how it came into his life. The memory engraved vividly in his mind. It was a gift, when a gift could hardly express the love the two of them shared. It was a memory of embrace, of thought and the effort to selflessly give something to your treasured person which you knew he yearned for. And that’s how it came to him. Simply handed with a smile at the most unexpected of moments, in the simplest of ways. And when he unravelled the gift, it was something he had wanted for so long. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He had seen it so many times, and even though he wanted it, he simply smiled and told himself, you will get one of your own soon. But when it came down to it, he just couldn’t do it. There was always something else. And she sensed it. Probably that’s what so great about love – when you actually do love someone, you live for another more than you live for yourself. But such a gift he didn’t expect, and there was very less what he couldn’t expect. He felt like a kid again, being given a gift he wanted but couldn’t ask for from anyone. And that was when he actually connected to it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He treasured it, would be an under-statement. He remembered it tagging along with him whenever he was all alone. Sickness, health, alone, among friends, travelling, at home... it was with him whenever he needed it. It helped him escape into worlds he loved to imagine, and safeguarded all his secrets. And he kept it as if to protect it from time itself – and he had been pretty successful at it. But he never imagined he would have to guard it from tragedy. And he felt the pain of death and loss, yet again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He had wondered as a child what made everything around so special that people seemed to work so hard for. If one considered the laws of nature, it would seem futile to form connections in lack of permanency and veils of perception. And then it struck him hard and cold like death. It was life itself that connected itself among everything and everyone around them. And its non-permanence is exactly what made it so precious to acquire – like desperately quenching your thirst from a handful of water when you know you can never have the entire handful, and if you delay it too much you will lose it all. It’s funny how simple and accurate life’s explanation is from a child’s point of view. The kid’s wisdom echoed in his head, “Everyone is trying to have as much fun as they can while they are here.”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yet he felt that time had been unfair. It had become so much a part of his life and never taken for granted. He recognized its absence the next morning itself. And when he recovered it from the culprit, he felt as if he had been saved himself. Yet the connection somehow seemed jittery, still he ignored it as imagination. Soon he realized his treasure had lost its life. And the efforts he could make were not enough to bring it back. Death had come again, this time as a trickster, and the wolverine didn’t even realize that the moon had been taken from it. And now all that was left with him was a void.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Probably the void could be filled by another, probably not. But the desire to fill the void was gone. What was once precious couldn’t return, not like before. This is probably the reason the ones that are departed are best reincarnated into fresh starts than brought back to old life. Nature had a better of keeping life’s cycle going. Maybe he could apply it to his gift. But that will take time and wisdom. Probably that’s what it was always about – To give time and attain wisdom.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He remembered the time when everyone but a few had to stay away from him for their own good. And he couldn’t and didn’t blame them for it. But it was with him always. Probably because he couldn’t harm it the way he could cause ill to others, but yet he liked to think that it came into his life at that time just to rid him of that solitude. And now it lay in his hands. What it stirred inside him was more than love. It was life... memories... feelings... companionship. Probably that’s what friends are. And you have to let them go. And hope, one day, somehow, you will be able to come back together again. Changed, aged and tempered by life – still... Friends Forever. There will be a night when the Moon will hear the Wolverine’s howls and they will meet again. And that morning, the sun will gladly take its time to rise.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-39231250527897142242009-11-03T03:24:00.002+05:302009-11-03T03:30:14.966+05:30Good Night<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">It has been so long, I actually have to wonder where I should start writing from. So I find myself beginning from putting down the instinct to hint what I am going to write about and instead write it down like a story unfolding itself in my head.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The night has always been a place of solace for me, sometimes warm and welcoming, and a silent partner otherwise. I actually wonder whether nights were always like these. In the times gone by, which seem like from another life, my own, night was a time to rest. Then suddenly either times changed or life, and night became as much of a time window as any other hour during the day. What one couldn’t accomplish during day, he undertook at night. Maybe it was the proliferation of options, and lack of interesting ones during day, that this became so far-fetchingly a part of one’s day, that ‘night-life’ seemed more important than it’s sunny counterpart on so many days.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And now I wonder where I am amidst the darkness of night, softly caressed by moon’s charms. What I reminisce seems like a day gone by rather than years and months, and now I am standing in the still of the night, alone, and waiting for the next day to begin. The day will be like any other in this picture of time, demanding hard-work, relying on faith, teased by dreams and down-trodden by failures. But still it will be a new day. How will I know about it? I won’t have the luxury to rest.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">In one of the many stories I have seen, read and heard, there was an episode in which a person, accomplished well beyond his age, questions on what made him feel like a man rather than a boy- when he finally made love to the girl he loved, or when he held the hand of a dying lonely woman through the night. Becoming a man from a boy for me was always to let go of what I wanted and choose what was right. But is that it? Even as a child I did what was right most of the time. So what differentiates a man from a boy? Now I think it’s accepting the fact that becoming a man is a never-ending process. There will always be a child in me. Sometimes more stubborn and unrelenting because he thinks he is a man, but the moment he stops learning and growing, he is a child again. And such is the circle of life- when a boy has finally realized the man he is, the child in him is ready to come back again, mostly accompanied by senility.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So why I slog through the day when what I eventually await is the night to rest? A story! A journey which has enriched one’s life by testing the waters of the world and time! And the hope that in the end my memories will be more of achievements than regrets! What I write so briefly probably describes years of my life. Yet the beauty of past and future is that years of them can span a brief moment in my mind, while the present is just a moment, but a special moment in which I live. And live it I shall.</span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-48778773832860675952009-04-08T21:38:00.000+05:302009-04-08T21:43:38.333+05:30Croak of a Barsati Maindek<span style="font-family: arial;font-size:100%;" >A Child – probably the most honest picture of who we are, well at least most of us. Before I started wanting things money could buy, before I cared what I looked like, before I thought twice of taking something apart just to find out what was inside or how it worked, before I even cared whether I care or not. There are remnants of that simple joy of just being alive. I still find joy in the colours of life. I still “wuv” my parents and friends. I still feel like there is so much about the world for me to know, and it has nothing to do with the social philosophies. And I still love the rain.<br /><br />It’s magical when it rains. And for a moment forget that it has anything to do with evaporation and condensation and cohesive nature of water. And it is easy. Just stand with your eyes closed for a moment and feel the magic tingle your body with the sensations of cool drops on warm skin. Feel the cold breeze beginning to make your body shiver. The water slowly reaches from the skin into the depths of your being. And something stirs – something that we feel so rarely in the rat race. If you let it grow, you won’t take much time to realize what it is. And if you want to name it, I can only think of what I call it by – my Soul. And I feel... Free.<br /><br />I am free to smile. I can dance because I feel like splashing the water with a groove. I can sing at the top of my voice because the drops have given me a background score. I can play and try to do all kinds of tricks, because I am not afraid of getting hurt. I can make paper boats and send them hurling across streams just to see how far their voyage lasts. And when it ends, I start anew with another boat. I can watch out for frogs and then follow them leapfrogging alongside. (I wonder if that’s why the “barsati maindeki” proclaimed me a “barsati maindek”). I can open up myself to the world, and feel that it’s mine.<br /><br />And when I am all done, cold, shivering, wrapped in a towel, and sipping hopefully on something hot, I look around. It’s like everything around me is being washed clean by some universal will. The parched surface’s thirst is quenched. Flora and fauna are given a bath like a mother makes a stubborn baby sit in a water-filled oversized tub, so that he has no option of getting away. Rivers, streams and lakes are rejuvenated giving our marine friends a wider ground to play. Life, human or otherwise, actually has come alive. And you are as much a part of the coming alive as you are the spectator. World seems greener. The smell of freshly damped earth is intoxicating. Suddenly it seems that someone just lifted a black and white screen and the world has come back to colour. And against a grey background of sky, Mother Nature decided to paint a world.<br /><br />In many faiths including the scientific ones, water represents giver of life. If we look into its properties we find them not only peculiar but outright exceptional. Still it is one of the fundamental elementals. What I find most amazing is, that somewhere, some point in time, it was chosen that rain would be made of water. Water, that seeps through even the smallest of spaces and still sticks together. Water, that makes up the ever-humbling oceans, yet reaches out to the land in form of small droplets. Water, that even though present in virtually unlimited quantities, yet is probably the most precious resource, along with the other elementals in its creative form. One would think we would learn something from a choice so made. I really hope we do in time.<br /><br />Still as the cynics among us would ask, what is so special about rain? I say it’s the fact that life comes around. Sooner or later, in one form or another, it comes around and replenishes you, rejuvenates your soul. Maybe it has been a decade’s drought, maybe even more. Still one shower, and life is given the strength to grow. It connects our thick-headed consciousness to our soul, and asks it to come out and play. For sometime forget that world is filled with pain, sorrow and misfortune. Drench yourself and remember what it is to feel like a child again. Smile like there’s no tomorrow. Cry, like for once probably the world is crying with you. And come out clean.<br /><br />Come thunder and lightning, come storms, nothing stops the rain from falling. The dreams, once buried, are reawakened. I shed my pretences and find myself wanting to climb up the ladder of raindrops and hug the clouds. Miracles don’t seem far-fetched anymore. And if nothing else, I will always remember the stirring of my soul, when the rain fell.<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-90558250648782947982009-03-02T10:52:00.005+05:302009-03-02T10:56:35.393+05:30A Short Note on Women<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Some would say this was a topic that I should have written on a long time ago, but the fact of the matter is I don't think I would do complete justice to the same even now. Still I find myself venturing into many things not completely prepared these days so why not write something about Women too - after all, I don't think anybody would know enough to write what can encompass a woman's persona in its entirety.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I would say I am prejudiced towards the fairer sex a bit, well mostly because it is supposed to be considered the fairer sex. Not that they always are. From what I know, women are usually more calculative, objective and unreasoned than men when they are determined to get what they want, they usually get it, or else (a bit clichéd still no better phrase to say it) “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. Their genes have evolved their minds to instinctively manipulate men to work to their bidding. How they utilize those genes is what distinguishes them. In their pursuit, they can wreck havoc on others, destroy themselves and even imperil what they are after. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Phew! Now that I have let off the steam, I bow down humbly to the blessing that is woman. There is no better creation for one to ponder, pursue and cherish as a man. For their glory overshadows whatever can be said against them. Determination, persistence, love, friendship, generosity, loyalty and insight can all be found in every woman – probably in us men too, but we usually don’t tap into our true potential, not until we are motivated enough, and that is mostly too in the pursuit of lady (or ladies :) ) of our dreams.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Every effort to understand these blessings (and sometimes banes) of our life is futile. Why? Apart from the empirical rule of men failing to understand women, some things are better not understood. For, as long as the goal is not reached, the journey continues. For won’t the elusive mystery that is a woman’s mind might turn out to be what we didn’t expect. For where men are guided by definable goals, women are guided by something more than that. What is it? Don’t look towards me. I haven’t figured out women myself. Still I know that they are different from us, like I know the wind on my face. And to think of them with our reasoning is trying to fit a circle into a square.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Whatever women be, they are still the core to our survival, in every facet, be it social, economic and, most importantly, biological. Female foeticide is nothing short of genocide, and ironically a self-destructive form of it at that. And the reasons for killing a child just because it’s a girl are not only horrific, they’re unfounded and preposterous. Gene-pool of any family is preserved in the same way in both males and females. Girls have consistently being performing better than boys on an average in all secondary and higher secondary levels consistently for years now. Why they haven’t been able to perform as well in college exams is highly controversial, with reasons like discouragement of college studies, especially the ones requiring investment for daughters of the family. And in fact, in words of my world-wise friends, a son in our society requires regular investment for the entire life. A girl when becomes independent is an asset. And if you are thinking in terms of dowry, it is illegal and a shameful act on part of the groom-to-be. What good are you if you can’t even earn back what your parents have invested in you and have to look towards a girl for support? If anywhere, this is where your male ego should arise. And forget everything else, the girl who has to buy her way into her life, what kind of selfless love and values do you expect her to imbibe into your family and children?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I have seen my share of kids. And girls are no less an asset than boys are. In fact in many aspects they mature earlier and understand things from other’s perspectives earlier. And how do we treat them in our so called society? Domestic abuse, assault at workplace and rape – call me an extremist but I believe that the culprits in such matters are better off castrated in public and worse. For no true man ever has to resort to hitting a woman. I am not impractical to say there are no female anti-social elements amidst us, but for every bit of manliness in our protectors of good, nothing justifies even treating them in such extreme manners, for what kind of man needs to resort to violence towards woman if he is so strong. Or are you just strong enough to overcome a woman? And if you can only satisfy your carnal desires by going after helpless girls, you are not just a “chhakka”, you are just an anomaly in the human race, that should be gotten rid of like termite on wood - Eradication.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Don’t get me wrong comrades. I am not a feminist and I don’t believe men and women were created equal. There are things in which one was meant to be better than the other in general, and exceptions only prove the rule. And more than often I have seen girls and women being treated in preference, be it queues, interviews or examination checking. And I ain’t for it either. Hell, sometimes I feel that men should be fighting for their rights in these days with the kind of empowerment women are being given. If anything goes wrong, it’s automatically considered the man’s fault. And the woman gets away just because she is so.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Still, a child’s fight should remain a child’s fight. If turned to monstrosity, it turns you into exactly that – Monster. And a monster is neither man nor woman, and not guided by any of their respective welfare.</span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-85424774813933958782009-02-23T13:00:00.000+05:302009-02-27T14:55:48.676+05:30Tryst ... All over again!<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Full-circle – That’s what life usually comes about. You don’t realize much about it until the circle is finally complete. What intrigues me is the fact that life is formed of so many intricate circles, it’s almost miraculous how universe moves forward without crashing upon itself. Probably the reason why some of the most gifted minds in the world are searching for the single law which guides the entire universe. Although my favourite argument for the same is if there is such a law, won’t it be governed by itself, and hence its discovery too, thus leading to the idea that could such a universal truth is without sentience. Anyway my story this morning is not about such a grand theory, at least not directly. It’s about landing up in a place in your life, where you thought you would never end up again. It’s about finding yourself doing the same thing which you had thought you wouldn’t have to ever do again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">There have been instances, or rather chapters more appropriately, of my life recently, where just in a span of years, if not months, I have realized that things that are easiest to let go off, are the ones that are easiest to return to. And the ones that are hardest to let go, are the ones that in time start to seem unworthy of any further presence in your life. And in many cases, some places and people just seem to be a part of your life, however hard you try to get away from them. Actually it’s the other way around sometimes. The harder you try to get away, the more intertwined your destinies seem.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Such a tryst, however much one avoids it, could in fact be fate. Karma that needs to be shed, some debt that needs to be paid – take your pick. It could be a business client, work location, some old school time crush, a relative, even a means of transportation – some I just keep coming across, even if I never thought I would see them again, some I even hoped not to. And I can never know when that share of my karma has borne its fruit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Another possibility that comes to mind, and this one I favour, is that it follows sort of the Maze theory (another of my spontaneous inventions I must say) – As long as we keep making the same choices, guided by the same perspective, we will end up at the same corner. So it’s more a matter of how our choices come into play, however complex they may be, whether conscious or not.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">When I come to think of the difference between the two, for karma is again a more esoteric form of choices itself, the two reasons distinguish themselves in their approach; former is reactive while latter is pro-active in their resolution. I can change the reiteration of the encounters if I change the choices I make. I can take the other turn, to eventually lead myself out of the maze. But if it is karma only, there is hardly anything I can do about it, till it is lived out.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Free-will is the means by which we let our conscious and sub-conscious traverse the cross-roads in life. Maybe it is also the gate by which we communicate with our soul. In meditation, one closes his/her eyes to touch that element of their soul. And it is free will that makes us close our eyes even while we are awake, to reach inside, when it is our instinct to keep our eyes open. My father used to tell me, that when I will learn how to close my eyes, my third eye will eventually open. Not as potent as that of my Lord Shiva, but the one that will be allow me to see for what things truly are. I asked him how long I would have to practice to achieve such a state. And he replied smilingly, it could range from minutes to years to even births. Now I realize the reason he said it so simply was because in such a state, time would just be road with milestones, and when the destination is sought, road is where we walk. It is the journey that matters.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-31973899336390740692008-10-05T08:28:00.003+05:302008-10-05T17:39:37.718+05:30Morning Raga<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Rise... that's the keyword that comes to my mind when I think of mornings. Sun rises, new day rises, plans, chores, tensions, schedules, everything rises anew; of course along with the individual himself/herself. I rise and I start living beyond the unlimited sub-conscious horizons of my dreams. Just the fact that I have woken up, instills the novelty that defines what mornings mean.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Although it's not like everyday I, or anyone else for that matter, I wake up feeling at peace or elated. Many mornings, I have brooded over past and present. Many I have spent sleeping preferring the world of dreams over the supposedly 'real' counterpart. And many I have just plainly forgotten in the routine of the day and later realized I remember nothing special about that morning, except getting ready and getting on with the matters at hand. But yes, many some good mornings are like today's.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Like many of it's categorical predecessors, this morning instilled a feeling of peace. I woke up without any worries or apprehensions (not that I don't have a big bag full in my hand). I woke up to realize I had just taken hold of more hours in the day by getting up early. I woke up to feel the soft warm morning sunshine of an October morning. I woke up realizing, I am glad I am living the life I am, even with all its flaws. I woke up with a smile for all the hopes I have, and a grin for all the things I want to achieve. I woke up just to be satisfied that I have another day which I have the opportunity to spend as per my capabilities right now. I woke up without thinking so many of the things I mentioned above, and still feeling all of them. I woke up.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">So what is it that made me start noticing this morning? The previous turmoil of the days gone. As the proverb goes, "It's always Darkest before the Dawn". I guess a part of the esoteric meaning of it indicates towards the fact that sometimes you've gone through so much turbulence, you come to realize the importance and satisfaction of things you've taken for granted. In the heat of the race that life has become, you forget to appreciate and be grateful for the many simple things in life. As I realized the same, it brought a smile to my face. The thought that kept me from diving back into the well of apprehensions was </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">"Things could be a lot worse"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Probably I won't be feeling so light at heart and glowing inside within an hour or so. But I have this hour within me to rejuvenate the spirit of life. I remember the old lessons, To be motivated by looking up, while be grateful and humbled by looking down. And this is what makes this morning free of mournings. (Although the similarity in phoenetics lights a spark of curiousity and thought in my mind. I guess I will leave it for some other morning.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">So I stand now smiling. Looking at my long-time friend, basking in his warmth and thanking him for breaking the spell of darkness. I stand enjoying my element, ruffling through my hair and caressing my slumber wringed skin. I hope it rains today too. The ground could use some respite from the October heat. And I selfishly would be able to enjoy getting drenched in the downpour. Life might not be good enough. But it is better than many.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">P.S. It did Rain today... and I did get drenched :)</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-25519546766513292112008-08-29T17:14:00.002+05:302008-08-29T17:19:11.909+05:30Moving Out<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My father explained a statement in one of the old movies, by telling me that most part of an average person's life revolves around 3 basic necessities - Food, Clothes and House. He then ended up explaining to me the difference between the concept of house and home. I always thought my dad was smart, probably not in the worldly ways but in the way he could conceptualize and imagine things, if he wanted to that is.<br />All of us, even everyone non-human (although I don't think they will be mentioned hereafter), from the moment we take our first breath, live somewhere. For some, it is a permanent place with memories and stories of their life, all happening in the same set of rooms and living area. For others, the place keeps changing. Change of friends, change of surroundings, probably even a change of culture; irrespective of why that change happens. But the fact is, most of us humans, usually do change our house and/or homes once in our life, whether we like the change or not.<br />I was born and brought up in a congested city area house. It was my home, because my heart was in it. Most part of my childhood, my early years till the time I touched adulthood, were spent living in the place I used to call my home. All the happiness, sorrow, excitement, disappointment... I can still remember major part of everything I try to remember about it. I can say I am lucky that I got to have the childhood I did. It wasn't a smooth drive, but there were definitely a good amount of fun times I had. And then we moved.<br />I remember it hadn't hit me that hard that I was going to live in a different place while the new house was being prepped. The point came to light when we started packing. When all the things and belongings that I had never thought of moving from my room, from my house and from my home, needed to be packed and moved to the new place. Then a couple of days before I moved I realized, I won't be living in the same house. Not even in the same part of the city. That actually made me realize how it'd feel to have a black hole in your stomach. I know it sounds weird but that is actually what it was. Whatever I thought, whatever logic I came up with, all the rationale, was just accepted and there was still that void left inside you that at that time seems will never go away. Somehow I didn't even feel like saying good-bye to my friends in the neighbourhood, in the hope that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">of course</span> we would still be able to spend all that time together that we used to earlier, which never happened again.<br />And when I moved into my new room in the new house, it was a total strange experience. I had my bed and cupboards from the old room, so that brought a touch of familiarity. But the anonymity of the space left me numb for weeks. And then I went to visit my old house after everything had been moved. It was an empty space. As if life had been sucked out of its very bricks and all that was left was an endless array of memories associated with each and every corner of it. I didn't know till that time, what was the pain of leaving behind someone you loved. And when I did, I realized how cruel I had to be to move on in life. Because yes, we did need to move to our present house. But then, a part of me wished I could live in the old home once in a while. Won't it feel alone with all of us gone?<br />My father had told me that a house is a structure made of building materials, which we use as a shelter against the weather and a place for personal requirements. But a home is something far more deeper and alive than just plain building materials. It is like a parent taking care of its children, protecting them from the elements so that they can live happily. It is an elder of the house, which watches generations grow up and go about their ways and carries on as a silent spectator being amused by the frail actions of us men to be happy. It is a part of us, which we hold close to in our hearts without even realizing it. And we are equally a part of it.<br />And I still can't help missing my old home. I have had some enriching experiences in life since then, and probably more change of places to live than anyone I know of yet. I have lived in 5 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">different</span> cities by now. And <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">every time</span> I move, a bit of that black hole returns. And I guess I have become more used to moving on now. But the memories of those early years are sort of like a movie, that you start playing in your mind, whenever you feel like watching an oldie inside your head.<br />It's hard to move on. Not at the time of instant of separation, but in the oncoming days and months, when you realize the absence of that familiarity you had grown accustomed to - whether it was family, friend, even a foe, and yes, even non-living (supposedly) entities like house, first car or bike, an old game or whatever you feel attached to. But move on everyone must, because there is no way that life around you is going to wait for you to finally take all the time you need to let go. Sometimes all we can keep with us of things lost are memories. And then move on making some more. Walking the path of life has cruel lessons to be taught many a times. But learn we me must because we can't move forward until we do.<br />When was the last time you had to move from your home into a new place? Ever felt as if you yourself had just ripped out a part of your life and closed the book on it? Ever wonder what all you left behind?</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-783245327066679122008-08-18T13:23:00.002+05:302008-08-18T13:27:05.314+05:30She's just EXTREMELY Nice<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ok... for the first time I deleted everything I had written previously because I felt like it was nothing but simple things written in round-about fashion. Man it feels stupid to take so many words to write simple things.<br />Ok this entry is for someone who is close to me, is going through some heart-wrenching feelings right now and seriously needs to cheer up:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. Life's too long to live with guilt, too short to live with regret</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. Thou shall not commit wrong to thyself, then no wrong to others</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. Time's funny, it seems to be so intense in present, yet passes away so quickly</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">4. Talk to someone. Don't worry about being judged, blamed or mocked, just share. You will be surprised how much you will find in common</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">5. Don't let anyone mock you for your choices in life, they weren't in your shoes, so don't let them get under your skin</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6. People who love you, will be happy if you are happy... trust me it shows</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have told you all this already, but just putting it on for you to remember if you ever have a doubt or bad day.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-12997175764982598192008-07-21T01:46:00.004+05:302008-07-21T02:34:24.064+05:30Idea of a Hero<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Seldom one comes across a story that makes something inside you feel alive. Tonight such a story made me feel that way. It felt like someone had personified Hope, Sacrifice, Wisdom, Courage, Nobility, Compassion and Ability of the epitome of what humanity will ever have to offer. Suitably, people who symbolized these in medieval times were called "Knights".</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">All right, I believe there are people in this world who don't have a superhero (or maybe several) that they would idolize. Not to forget plenty who haven't read their comics or watched their animation, and more recently not been much of their movie adaptation viewers either. I am not one of them, no offense. I am an apt follower of all 3 of them, and would grab hold of an opportunity with either at the first chance I get. And probably what this story so amazingly stirred inside me was the real reason why I always liked the concept of someone '<strong>Saving the Day</strong> (or Night)'. <em>Ofcourse, I always wanna be the Superhero doing that</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We face the so-called forces of Good and Evil everyday in our lives. From the smallest good deed to the worst crime. I also know that when we discuss perspective of Black and White, there are as many acts in shades of Gray as there are in the absolute extremes. Some crimes are heinous, some efforts divine, and there are many which will always be a matter of which way you look at it. But sometimes being so wise and realistic, isn't what you gain strength from.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We all need something to believe in, something that out conscience can treat as an example to evaluate our own actions by, something that fills the void of <em>what's the right thing to do</em>. Religion, Gods and Prophets are one such source of faith and belief. Other set is that of Legends. Legends that have stories told of them in epics, in folklore and nowadays in the media I mentioned before. It doesn't matter if the real story behind the hero was that of mistakes and some wrong choices. But what is left for generations to remember (and this always happens) is how loudly did his actions say what he achieved. <em>Legends are Immortal</em>. And for something to survive such a long span of existence, it will be made an example of.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Nowadays superheroes are portrayed more human than ever. They are portrayed with the human traits that will be expected of any human like selfishness, glorification, self-righteousness, dilemmas. But the inspiring part of this portrayal is, they never win without admitting to the fault of their ways and always work to make a better choice next time. To me that's as perfectly human any hero will ever need to get. That's what I like to believe in when I think of what I would do if I had all those extraordinary abilities that are depicted so often. That's who I like to turn to when I feel that the problem is beyond me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Mostly always, being a Hero means making the Hard Choices. Do you give up or not? Do you let things go or not? Do you kill or not? And someones Hero, might be someones Villain. Indian mythology is filled with instances of such antagonists, who were shown to be there, just for the sake of being defeated by the protagonist, for there to be a moral to the story. But could a selfish, powerful monster, might have been a Good King to his people? Could a Thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, might have been the nightmare of hard earning people? Still Heroes become heroes when they are viewed beyond such perspectives. What we see as a Hero is an idea of what a Hero that person can be.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">So what does a fictional Superhero do to be deemed worthy of its existence in our beliefs? He makes us remember that maybe we haven't been wrong about the beliefs handed down to us through million of years. He makes us believe that ever under the most adverse conditions, we can make the right choice and still survive to talk about it. He paints a rosy picture of idealism in our minds, that however tainted it becomes with our logic as we grow, the tint of the color will always be there.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Superheroes make us Believe that we can be More than what we expect ourselves to be.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-58591513513824466782008-07-20T03:31:00.003+05:302008-07-20T03:51:46.900+05:30SilenceSilence is scary - both within and out.<br />For in it, truth rises mercilessly.<br />A silent gaze can freeze fear in its tracks.<br />A silent gesture can change the world.<br /><br /><br />It is not easily found.<br />It is quickly lost.<br />It is like a veil of darkness.<br />Waiting to be pierced by realization.<br /><br /><br />In Silence, one's efforts may seem futile.<br />In Silence, one realizes the power one holds.<br />In Silence, one becomes his worst foe.<br />In Silence, one becomes One.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-40259475267371621002008-07-06T03:24:00.003+05:302008-07-06T03:33:40.374+05:30Milestones of an Year<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Results of the graduation exams were out. He hadn't topped them although he wished he was lucky enough that he struck gold with the meagre preparation he did. However, he thought that above average results were good enough. He already had secured a job with a reputed company, which would look like a solid start on his resume in future. He was glad he finally did get a job. The placements in the college had gone well this year, but he didn't get as high paying job as many of his classmates did. And the company he was waiting for did interview him, but they decided they were better off not shortlisting him. He still remembered the time after the interview. He had stormed out fuming inside and trying to reassure himself that he was too good for them and they probably thought that a sharp guy like him won't be staying long with them. And his friends reassured him about it. He knew they were just being friends, and soon they were off the club to dance and drink off their grasp on reality. He remembered that he cried holding her at night, asking he didn't have any clue as to why they didn't select him.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The gang was devastated. Not one of them was going to end up in the same city as any other person. It was as if fate had decided they were better off placed in different corners of the country. Girls were hit the hardest as to now they would have to find someone new to live with. One out of the 2 couples in the group was the most hopeful, because the guy was ready to take over his father's business, and once settled, the girl would leave the job and they would get married. The other couple was his own, and they had decided 2 months ago, that they weren't going to be able to cope up with the distance and had to focus on their careers. Still it was hard for him to think that this was their last day in college. Somehow they had managed to convince each other to stay till the results came out, but now no one knew how to react to the parting of the ways. Finally, they ended up hugging each other one by one and tears hit them one by one. Girls had promised each other last night they wouldn't cry any more, but the guys tear-stained smiles made it impossible for them not to.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">*************</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">He sat back into his chair staring at the screen. Six-months into his first job, and he already felt like he was going to pull his hair out. All that he had imagined about living the professional bachelor life had come true. He earned enough for himself, his lifestyle was comfortable as per any standards, he had his choice of girls to ask out on weekend nights and none of them was looking for a serious relationship or so they said, and he was a picture of healthy youth. Yet he knew what he was missing was something none of the satisfactions could shadow and hide. He thought he was wasting his time. At first he thought the frustrations were rooted because he didn't have his friends or family around. But then he realized that most of the time he didn't have the time to spend time with them even if they were there and if they were, they would have their own life to attend to. It had taken him 3 months to understand that college life will never return. And when he did, he called up the entire gang and his family, to tell them he missed them. They finally made him smile with the sheer variety of their reactions and responses. He had made peace with that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Then he dove himself into his work thinking now was the time to climb the corporate ladder as fast as he could. He worked, he performed, and he made his share of mistakes. His office life wasn't half bad as he hoped for it to be so that he could put the blame on it. But when you feel like you are wasting the most valuable asset in one's life, you can't put the blame on anyone else but yourself. How you utilize your time in this life, is no one's responsibility but yours. And worst part was, he was smart enough to know this fact. But he couldn't lose to doubts now. He had planned out certain aspects of his career and wavering from it now, would definitely render him lost on the way to achieve his ultimate goal - To be filthy rich; because money was a requirement for everything in the world today; directly or indirectly. With this rekindling of his motivation he got up from his chair and went to get a cup of coffee; she had gotten up for the same and he had been waiting for a chance to strike a conversation today. It was high time he tried asking her out.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">*************</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It was raining. Maybe someone likes me up there, he thought. It was exactly one year since he had started his work life. And he was sitting near the window looking out into the city, drenched in rain. He had been thinking about it the whole week. Last night, he had asked her out to spend the entire day with him. She was delighted. He knew she was hoping for something long-term and why wouldn't she? She was his constant beckon call on more weekends than he wished to recount, and she knew the contents of his refrigerator better than him. Still, when time till lunch seemed to be stretched and he didn't know what to talk about, he told her that he wanted to be alone. She left with a look of care and understanding and asked him to call her whenever he felt like talking. He looked at the rain and wished he had opted for a sea-view apartment. The falling drops would seem more picturesque that way. It was still evening, but the clouds made it seem like a starless night and seemed in no mood to stop their downpour any time soon.<br />Yet he loved the rain. He knew he was a sucker for them. All the people close to him knew about it. He thought of taking out his new car for a drive in the rain. Maybe later. There was something in his mind that was trying to break free. And he was afraid. Not because it was something terrible, but because it seemed that it was something that had been suppressed deep for so long, it would hurt when it came to light now. He distracted himself with thoughts of the work lined up for next week. Work? Was it all that he could think about now? There were things in his life that he had hoped he would enjoy once he was out on his own, but hadn't got a chance to do them. No that was wrong. He hadn't looked for a chance to do them. It was always later. And what was he doing right now? He was spending time in fulfilling his plan. Did he really want that plan so much? Was it really his plan or something he picked up from somewhere? He had matured enough to realize that he wasn't someone special as he had hoped he was like the protagonist in a story. But then who was he? What distinguished him? Most importantly, am I not the person right now I am living as? He felt the shell inside him cracking.<br />Suddenly, his cellphone rang and his thoughts were replaced by the curiosity of who called. It was surprising how eager he got whenever he was called these days. It was him. Probably they had finalized the date for their wedding. He was suddenly filled with guilt before he pressed the answer button, remembering he had missed their engagement the day before, just because he was working. He answered hoping it was a flurry of unmentionable swearing, rather than a disappointed question as to why he wasn't able to make it. The former would mean he was still forgivable, the latter meant he had scarred one of the few people he could call a friend. The swearing followed without any formal greetings. He smiled. He kept on apologizing, and listening to the words that meant nothing except than a verbal beating figuratively speaking, and that he was sexual abomination literally speaking.<br />"We are all waiting for you at the club. And I mean all of us. I had to call in all the favors with every one of us to keep them here for today and you better get your butt here. I don't know who was the person who missed my engagement, but buddy you better wake yourself up. It's been an year and we are not spending it without a rotten ba***** like you. You've got 15 minutes and I know it is at least a 20 minute drive. Deal with it!" His friend hung up.<br />He couldn't remember when he was this happy last. He put on something acceptable in a rush, and without even looking in the mirror, he rushed into his car. They were here. All of them. And suddenly has he raced the car out of the parking, he realized nothing else mattered. He had spent a year trying to mature, but he still got the rush from the same things in life. And maybe he needed money for many of those things, but no amount of money was worth missing out on any of those things. Maybe he hadn't grown up at all, maybe he was a long way from becoming wise, but he was happy. He swerved maniacally at the turn and pressed the accelerator. The rain was merciless but tonight he felt like he was invincible. He still had 3 minutes to cover a 9 minute distance. He sped on, but the rush outside was nothing compared to the calm taking over inside. He had to follow the things he really wanted. And if the life he had right now didn't allow a place for them, it had to change. The changes didn't have to be radical, but they would be if required. And hopefully she would be there. He missed her. He never realized that the only reason he let her go, was because she didn't fit into the plan. He was so stupid to forget that he fit into everything else so perfectly. It was time to pursue her again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">The rationale in his brain kept reminding him, that this was just momentary. When he got a reality check tomorrow, after everyone had left for their own lives, he will realize the importance of his efforts leading to his life till now. Will I? He shrugged and grinned. Maybe. But then now I know again what makes me happy. Being myself. Letting go. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon I will be brave enough to face the truth and then I will be glad of being who I am. It's not the same as not knowing the truth. He was almost there. He thought he didn't have time to be a miser and will let the valet take care of the parking. He breathed, preparing himself for the rain's attack, and looked out to the club's terrace. They were all there. He could never forget how they all looked grouped together. Only one missing was him. It was time. He opened the door and shuddered at the coolness of the rain drops. He closed his eyes to enjoy the rain before making a run for indoors.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">**************</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">She had waited for him the entire evening of the engagement party. Not just, everyone had. He was probably the most simple-minded, cliched and average of them all, but that made him so forgettable to everyone who didn't know him well. To them, he was the eternal hope of a child hoping to grow up someday to be a super-hero. Few of them were protective towards him, some made fun of him and rest adored him, but she loved him. She always did. She had left her job last month, to pursue something she actually enjoyed doing. He did always say she was the first person he came to with study problems. And now today it was raining. He would be happy. He was such a kid when it came to rains. And she hated it when he would always expect something beautiful to happen in rains. She knew her feelings for him were still mixed with confusion, and probably accentuated by not being able to see him for an year now, but today it was raining. She knew she was going to at least kiss him tonight to make sure something was still there.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Someone from the group mentioned that it seemed like his car. The groom-to-be joked that he still was 3 minutes earlier than he expected, still a rash driver. They all called out to him from the terrace. Then the driver came out and stood for a while in the rain holding on to the door of the car. It was definitely him. She smiled and in a flash her hand reached out to him impossibly screaming. A car smashed into the door of his car at full speed. The running car's brakes screeched and it swirled into a frenzy on the wet road, coming to a halt hitting it's back on a lamp-post. But the door of his car hanged halfway across its hinges and he was not getting up. People rushed towards the site of the accident. Guys from her group rushed downstairs. She stayed watching the aftermath, half hoping that he would get up and say he was all right. After all it was raining. Magical things could happen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">**************</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">He saw the lights of the approaching car probably a few moments too less to reach inside into his car or run away from it. Suddenly he realized that all he could think of was - <em>Is this It?</em></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-62724724859490458972008-06-19T13:36:00.004+05:302008-06-19T13:48:43.181+05:30Don't Look Back<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">It's 3:19 in the morning right now. Every night for long I have thought about getting back at the seat of writing down whatever I am thinking, but I realized I was nothing but lazy. So what made me sit down and finally do it..? It's something which hits us once in a while, pretty often through life... Rock Bottom!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">But I am jumping ahead of myself. Let's start with something more subtle... Change. Ok, maybe it's not that subtle always, still it is something we all have to accept. Wise ones accept and adapt to it, some just accept it as fate and the stubborn ones keep fighting it through either denial or defiance or maybe both. All of us play either of the above roles at every "change" we face... change of roles at different points. But do we change?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">My grand-dad always used to tell me that as a child I should pick up good habits and character, because at that time I was like soft clay ("kachhi mitti"). He said, that sooner than I think, I would be set into a mould; that even if I wanted, I wouldn't be able to change (without breaking something inside me). I used to think I he was being over-critical and that I will always be able to mould myself, as I wanted to. Hell, there were quite a few things I wanted him to change about himself, and even though knowing they weren't wise habits, he carried them on. So I thought, maybe this is how as we grow older, we make this excuse of becoming less adjusting, to stick to our cherished drawbacks.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">And suddenly, I think of him tonight and realize how important that little statement was. Change is something I have never fell short of. People, places, emotions, ideologies... ample of them all. And at every crossroad in life, I have dug deep into the same pool of ideals, virtues, desires and beliefs, every time. It is as if whatever was put into the empty glass of a growing mind, stuck and most of the new stuff that pours in, either just overflows off the brim and some of it sticks, which can mix with the already present "stuff" in the glass. So if the basis of our choices is still always the same, do we ever change or just keep hardening into what we are currently?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">I am sure most of you (and me likewise) will be thinking,"Of course I change(d). Imagine what I would have done in the same situation few years back, which I faced in so-n-so manner recently". Of course your point is completely valid. And so is my question. We will have to "imagine" what we would have done or not done in the same situation. As dynamic as our experiences and thoughts are, core values don't change so often, because they stand alone with no alternatives. You choose to have them or you don't. It's not a matter of good or evil. It's a matter of choice. And once that choice is made, there's no looking back; because "I Am, what I do" (I will save "I Do, what I am" for a later work). It's hard to make hard choices, harder to live with them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So if one's character is the clay, values are the mould, and crossroads and choices are the roasting inferno, don't we actually get set into our mould? Since we made those hard choices, and we have to stand by them, the basis of those choices stick to our mould, to keep us sane and sorted out and thus more experiences we go through in life, the lesser susceptible we become to changing ourselves. And if one really does take upon himself/herself, to change their mould, it cannot happen without shaking up your roots, and for some time leaving you totally clueless. In many of the extreme cases, this would lead what we usually call a Nervous Breakdown.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Hard choices... they are not that hard, personally speaking, but many a times their aftermath is. And sometimes, the right choice is hardest one to make, not to mention it's as if all hell breaks lose right after it. And then you find yourself between our infamous Rock Bottom and a hard place.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">We wonder, "Did I make the right choice?". But is there a point now, thinking about it? Choice has been made for better or for worse. If it's your worse, you are the one who has to deal with it. So maybe life is interspersed with these stars called choices. Some shine, some burn. If you hit rock bottom, and there's no end to it, then wait, because nobody said rock bottom is momentary. It can stretch for a n unpleasant amount of time.But life is still simple, "You make a choice, and you don't look back"!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Rock bottom... it is as much the lowest point in your life as well as the most profitable. Why profitable? Well if you've got nothing to lose in regards to the situation a.k.a. rock bottom, you can only go up now, that means profit with no risk of further liabilities. But the funniest and cruelest thing of hitting rock bottom is, you don't know exactly that you've hit rock bottom. It just feels like it's rock bottom, no assurance it is. You will be extremely surprised as to "What could be worse than this?" until shit happens. Before the ball bounces back you are again and again surprised as to what not to take for granted. And unfortunately we do start taking so many important things for granted until we lose them, or in some fortunate cases they are threatened to be taken away from us.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">Getting up is the only option. You can not cry, brood, procrastinate, indulge in self-pity forever. Life calls, and you have to take it. And starting the journey back to achieving their goals, one realizes what has changed within. For some, the moulds are broken, they are left to face the inferno of choices again. Some face the crossroads with a dent here and there in there moulds and others with moulds made of more stubborn (or tougher) stuff not changing at all. Still you have to get up.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">A wise person once told me that before I judge myself for the choices I made in the past, I should clearly understand that person I was then, and the person I am now; for better or for worse. That is the only way I can make peace with my past and live my present, hoping for a desirable future.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">So I can look back at the choices made, but not standing where I was before. Because if I do, I put myself in the agony of a choice that has already been made, inflicting the shroud of doubt and dilemna upon myself unnecessarily.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And let's face it, once you've hit Rock bottom, one can always give himself/herself a</span> break :)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7758905385755310643.post-27821403097518108902007-10-25T15:14:00.000+05:302007-10-25T16:49:11.255+05:30SENILITY<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have so many thoughts of how to begin this conversation between us, I keep thinking how to <em>Introduce</em> this meeting, how to <em>Initiate</em> an exchange... How to <em>"Start"? </em></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Nevertheless what crops up my mind is a new born baby. A life just started, a journey of experience beginning, the first few pages of Book of Emotions & Choices.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Somehow, for a moment, like an unruly Reader I am, my attention diverts to the last pages of the Book. The Apparent End of the Story that keeps the audience grasped into its web as intricately as the characters. And once the journey begins, the only real <em>Destination is the End</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Old Age is something that is bestowed upon most of the living (not to forget Ageing is not that uncommon a term or process associated with Non-Living also). On the way to old age, an individual having traversed the paths of life, has collected moments of joy, sadness, success, failure... the list is endless; yet when the feeling of senility sinks in, they seem to realize the fragility of their time, of course in their own unique ways. Some double their efforts to achieve what they couldn't, some start securing a future for their children in their absence, some kick back and decide to enjoy what they had been putting off for so long and some unfortunate ones are haunted by the regrets of life, of the guilt of having made mistakes, of the feeling of being a disappointment.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Whatever be One's choice during the final stage of their earthly time, all feel short of time. Some follow their choices on the path of virtue, For some the end justifies the means. Yet, most of them find themselves left alone as opposite to the desire of being with who or what they hold dear. They have heard the words "World has changed... Generation Gap... It's time for someone new" in their own times, but it's now that their true meaning sinks in.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Old aged people are not always the nicest <em>(Believe me, I know)</em> but yet, they are as fragile as babies, and equally important. Most of them have so many things to say, but in the meagre 24 hours a day anyone hardly has the time for casual listening. But well as stubborn as babies, they would chatter away anyway <em>(all those who have had grandparents or old parents knows what I mean). </em>Most of them are so Proud of them being senior they wouldn't listen to a word anyone else says. Yet, in all the stubbornness, I get a hint of effort to affirm that they are needed, still wanted... that time has not changed so much as to leave them behind.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What is so stupid about us Humans is we never realize the true importance of what we have is until we've lost it. As the young, we lose time, and then brood over it when we are old. And as we are old, the young never seem to realize what we mean to them until we are gone.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">For a story I remember an old Caretaker of the Paying Guest house I stayed in during the last year. He chatted with me whenever I went back to the Guest House, complained to me about all the other tenants, asked me about any complaints, even vented out some anger somebody else deserved on me when I asked him to get something for me (he apologized in no time after that, and sincerely I would add). He was working 3 states away from his entire family, all alone here, just so that he could add something to the family's meagre earnings; even though he had 2 sons. He faced the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dilemmas</span> of obeying the landlady or letting the tenants have their way. As is usually the case of a good simple guy, he faced the music <em>(I wonder how it is music; most of the time it comprises of words more killing than a bee's sting), </em>from both the landlady and the other tenant boys. And he told me all this, because I thought it was nice to have someone to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">at least</span> listen to once you were back home.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">When it was time for me to leave that place this year, I never expected anyone to be bothered except the landlady (<em>she had to give back me deposit)</em>. But when I told him the decision to depart, for a minute he just stood there, silent & open-mouthed. At that time he held my bag and asked me not to go. I told him it was normal, there would be some other guy in my place soon. But he insisted that I stay. He even offered to be at my service whenever I wanted, and enquired if there was any wrong doing on his part. As I explained to him in unimportant words, tears peeked from his eyes. He asked who he would talk to when I am gone. Who would help him out in explaining things to otherwise arrogant young brats who hardly cared what he wanted to say or did. I could not answer. And then he went down. I kept on packing thinking about him, his plight, the tone of his plea for me to stay. Was it that important to him the little time I listened and talked to him?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">People of Old Age, are as varied in their personalities as any group of Humans would be. Still what bothers me is, that are treated as more unimportant than the rest. Senility is as time of cherishing as is any other stage of life. But it brings with itself many a curses too... illnesses, frail bodies, withering minds. Maybe the difference that is ascertained by it is that an Old person needs to be cherished by us more, rather than the other way around. Because once time is lost, there's no bringing it back.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">One has to accept being Human. Young and Old both. Still... I wonder if we have begun considering <em>Being Human</em> as our "Saving Grace", as our excuse.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Until next time.... :)</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2