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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Croak of a Barsati Maindek
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, March 2, 2009
A Short Note on Women
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tryst ... All over again!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Morning Raga
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.
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.
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.
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 "Things could be a lot worse".
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.)
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.
P.S. It did Rain today... and I did get drenched :)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Moving Out
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.
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.
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.
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 of course we would still be able to spend all that time together that we used to earlier, which never happened again.
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?
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.
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 different cities by now. And every time 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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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 of course we would still be able to spend all that time together that we used to earlier, which never happened again.
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?
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.
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 different cities by now. And every time 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.
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.
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?
Monday, August 18, 2008
She's just EXTREMELY Nice
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.
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:
1. Life's too long to live with guilt, too short to live with regret
2. Thou shall not commit wrong to thyself, then no wrong to others
3. Time's funny, it seems to be so intense in present, yet passes away so quickly
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
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
6. People who love you, will be happy if you are happy... trust me it shows
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.
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:
1. Life's too long to live with guilt, too short to live with regret
2. Thou shall not commit wrong to thyself, then no wrong to others
3. Time's funny, it seems to be so intense in present, yet passes away so quickly
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
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
6. People who love you, will be happy if you are happy... trust me it shows
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.
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