I had been meaning to do this for a long time and finally i hauled myself out of the bed on this beautiful autumn morning and got some wonderful sunrise pictures over Sydney's picturesque “Dee Why” beach.
Monday, April 05, 2010
Friday, April 02, 2010
Loss
It is amazing how much we fear loss. Loss, of any kind, is scary enough for us to banish any thought of it, right to the dark nether world inside our mind, never to be heard from again. But we are rarely successful, as these thoughts lurk in the background and are just waiting for a chance to burst out and go “Bhoooo” and rub it in our faces saying “I told you so”.
It is understandable though, because with Loss of any kind, be it of a loved one or a material thing, we feel pain or we grieve. Broken heart, broken ego, broken relationship, broken self worth, pain, grief, embarrassment, fear, uncertainty and humiliation, all side effects of loss. So who in their sane mind wouldn’t fear loss? No one wants to lead a morose life now, do we?
But the effect of Loss is different in different circumstances for different people. Imagine a hunter or an abattoir worker, death of an animal is but a consequence of what they do. Now imagine the same person as a pet owner, death of their pet now is personal, painful and thus a loss. That is the beauty of loss; it is painful only when it is personal. We go through our lives with the very things we are afraid of, happening to others, all around us, yet we are impervious to it. It becomes real only when it manifests itself in our lives.
The other thing about loss is how differently we react to it, from maniacal suicidal tendencies to a mere shrug of the shoulders and the raising of the eyebrows. Our reactions are determined by the type of loss, i.e. the grief felt, and the assumed impact of the loss. I say assumed, not because it is not real, but because it is always over emphasised due to the personal nature (mine, ours etc.) of the loss.
The impact and the grief felt due to Loss fades and reduce with time. As they say, time is a great healer. Loss is also a great teacher. We realise the true value of something only when it is taken away from us. To have and then not to have makes us realise how much we had. Therein lays the biggest power of loss. With loss comes lessons, and with lessons comes wisdom. It provides us new courage, it makes us believe and overcome adversity. It helps us to forgive, repent, accept and let go, thus making us better human beings.
Does the joy of owning a material thing or knowing a person or being associated with something exceed the grief caused by losing it or does the grief outweigh the joy? Can we ever know this? So should a thing we can never ascertain decide on how we act or behave or lead our lives? Should we be scared of loss in our quest to create a perfect happy and secure life?
Loss comes from the changes happening around us and as we know change is but inevitable. So shouldn’t we accept Loss as par for the course and come to accept and embrace it? May be if we do, we can be ourselves, without the fear of loss, maybe then people can see us for who we really are. Imagine if we open ourselves to new experiences and situations with no fear of loss, imagine the lessons we would learn, the characters we could develop and the future we could have, all because we willingly accept loss as a part of our development process.
Loss should mean a new beginning and not a sad ending.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Path of Least Resistance
The other day my friend said “Well, I had no reason to say no, hence I said yes”, a reasonable answer and one that most people give, to explain their apparent lack of choice in most matters. This got me thinking, is it true that in most cases we don’t have a choice and we take up the “only” available option? Or is it that we simply choose not to choose?? How often have we chosen the path of least resistance in our life? How much of our life is by "Default" and not by "Design"? How often have our circumstances and society defined our paths and choices for us?
It is a commonly accepted fact that the shortest distance between any two points is a straight line. But just because the path is the shortest, doesn’t mean it’s the oft taken one. Look at any river; it meanders its way through the landscape, from its origin to its end, a river rarely takes the shortest path to the sea. It takes the path of least resistance, the easy path, which is determined by the lay of the land. The river takes this path, albeit a meandering one, so that it expends the least energy.
Therein lies the irony; the shortest path does not necessarily mean the easiest, but we always seek the easiest and the safest path and thus a meandering path. I look back at my life and I find it riddled with incidents or events, which have occurred because I chose the path of least resistance, because I decided to go with the flow. Taking the short cuts, accepting the norms and being lazy and lethargic. My life was “OK” so why mess with a good thing? that was my point of view. I did it because of inertia, because of my unwillingness to question the status quo and here I am surprised by the result, shocked at where i find myself. This “Fear of Success” has driven me to accept mediocrity in my life. I have come to accept the compromises, the adjustments and the “OK” nature of it all, just to avoid responsibility of choosing a path, while all along convincing myself that this is the only option.
Well look around us and we find successful companies being driven by visions and goals, with review mechanisms in place to track and manage success and we all work in these companies and know of these mechanisms, but we rarely make it work for us. How often do we plan, achieve and make the tough, but the right choices in our life and how much of our life happens because we choose the easy option i.e. the "Only Option"??
It is hard for us to design our life and easy to let it happen to us by default. For when we choose the path, we then become responsible for the path and its outcome, which is scary because then we will have only ourselves to blame. Responsibilities and expectations daunt us. By claiming something we become visible and we stand out from the rest and that is something we fight against all our life. We want to blend in, not stand out. We are programmed to behave, to obey, to conform and not be different. Fears are instilled in us, fate and destiny are thrown at us, religion, retribution and hell is added into the mix in as well. It’s no wonder we are afraid to challenge, design and believe.
As Robert Frost said,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference
So maybe we need to choose our own path, a path not defined by ease, but by belief. Cut through the forest, climb the mountains and conquer the fear, because sometimes the hardest path is also the most rewarding, fulfilling and also the shortest. The risk of being “unrisky” and doing OK is more dangerous than the risk of choosing your path and failing.
The other day my friend said “Well, I had no reason to say no, hence I said yes”, a reasonable answer and one that most people give, to explain their apparent lack of choice in most matters. This got me thinking, is it true that in most cases we don’t have a choice and we take up the “only” available option? Or is it that we simply choose not to choose?? How often have we chosen the path of least resistance in our life? How much of our life is by "Default" and not by "Design"? How often have our circumstances and society defined our paths and choices for us?
It is a commonly accepted fact that the shortest distance between any two points is a straight line. But just because the path is the shortest, doesn’t mean it’s the oft taken one. Look at any river; it meanders its way through the landscape, from its origin to its end, a river rarely takes the shortest path to the sea. It takes the path of least resistance, the easy path, which is determined by the lay of the land. The river takes this path, albeit a meandering one, so that it expends the least energy.
Therein lies the irony; the shortest path does not necessarily mean the easiest, but we always seek the easiest and the safest path and thus a meandering path. I look back at my life and I find it riddled with incidents or events, which have occurred because I chose the path of least resistance, because I decided to go with the flow. Taking the short cuts, accepting the norms and being lazy and lethargic. My life was “OK” so why mess with a good thing? that was my point of view. I did it because of inertia, because of my unwillingness to question the status quo and here I am surprised by the result, shocked at where i find myself. This “Fear of Success” has driven me to accept mediocrity in my life. I have come to accept the compromises, the adjustments and the “OK” nature of it all, just to avoid responsibility of choosing a path, while all along convincing myself that this is the only option.
Well look around us and we find successful companies being driven by visions and goals, with review mechanisms in place to track and manage success and we all work in these companies and know of these mechanisms, but we rarely make it work for us. How often do we plan, achieve and make the tough, but the right choices in our life and how much of our life happens because we choose the easy option i.e. the "Only Option"??
It is hard for us to design our life and easy to let it happen to us by default. For when we choose the path, we then become responsible for the path and its outcome, which is scary because then we will have only ourselves to blame. Responsibilities and expectations daunt us. By claiming something we become visible and we stand out from the rest and that is something we fight against all our life. We want to blend in, not stand out. We are programmed to behave, to obey, to conform and not be different. Fears are instilled in us, fate and destiny are thrown at us, religion, retribution and hell is added into the mix in as well. It’s no wonder we are afraid to challenge, design and believe.
As Robert Frost said,
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference
So maybe we need to choose our own path, a path not defined by ease, but by belief. Cut through the forest, climb the mountains and conquer the fear, because sometimes the hardest path is also the most rewarding, fulfilling and also the shortest. The risk of being “unrisky” and doing OK is more dangerous than the risk of choosing your path and failing.
Monday, July 23, 2007
What Will They “THINK” of Me?
This is a statement that drives most of us during our lifetime. But I have staunchly opposed this philosophy for a good part of my life. I fancied myself as a rebel, someone who controlled his destiny, someone who was not afraid to do things my way. But with age comes mortality, a limit to your otherwise unlimited thinking. Over the last few years I have fallen into the “think like the masses” trap. My actions, my views and my life have slowly but surely, started to revolve around “What will they “Think” of me?”
I wake up each morning with this image I have to live up to. My actions for the day, my thoughts and my behavior are all centered on one thing – being accepted. Ever patient, ever smiling and affable at all times, all just to belong, just to be part of a society. But in this run to be accepted, in this run to belong, I have forgotten the people that matter, my love ones, my friends and family. Why?? Because they are friends and family, hence they should know, they should understand my behavior, and after all, it’s only “family & friends” we will get over it. I have good and valid reasons for the way I behave so why can’t they accept it. And hey, I can’t be cheerful and affable at all times can I? I need to unwind and what better place than home, or with friends, where I can offload all my tragedies and know that they will support me.
But on my journey to be a well accepted social being, I have hurt my loved ones the most. Always making demands of them but never giving them anything and wondering why they are so stiff and un-understanding. Why is it that we hurt the people we love the most, those that matter the most to you and are the closest to you? Why? I have never found the answer.
The irony is that in my quest to please “society”, I constantly answer the “What will they “Think” of me?” question. But the answer is my interpretation of what I think the “society” wants and hence I behave in a pattern that suits. I hope you are following my logic here, because the way “I” act is based on “MY” interpretation of what “I” think the society expects from me. There is no truth, no logic and no proof as to what I am doing/behaving is exactly as I am expected to, and therein lays the tragedy of my life. In my eagerness to please everyone, I have stopped being myself, I have forgotten what my loved ones expect from me and I have forgotten as to what I want from myself.
A life so misguided, shambolic and rudderless that it’s driven by impressions, perceptions and interpretations of what I think it should be, not what I want it to be or what it should actually be. Always scared to break the mould, lest I be recognized and singled out, but not too happy in the cocoon I have surrounded myself with; such has been my story the last few years. Mine has been a life with no goals, ambitions or a sense of achievement.
This is not a gripe about my life, but a confession of a life gone awry but this is not redemption either. I have destroyed a thousand bridges with my family and friends and it will be an arduous task rebuilding them. Relationships that took me years to develop and painstakingly build, I have destroyed in a matter of months, all in a quest to live an “interpretation of the right life”. My inability to face my fear of rejection from the society has culminated in a life filled with hurting and paining my love ones.
Where is redemption I ask? What will set right the unforgivable mistakes of my life? What is done is done and I don’t want to dwell on the what-if scenarios. In my journey the last few years, I had forgotten the most important “They” in the equation. “They” being my loved ones, the only people that matter to me and they should be the ones I should think about and worry about and lead my life for.
This is a statement that drives most of us during our lifetime. But I have staunchly opposed this philosophy for a good part of my life. I fancied myself as a rebel, someone who controlled his destiny, someone who was not afraid to do things my way. But with age comes mortality, a limit to your otherwise unlimited thinking. Over the last few years I have fallen into the “think like the masses” trap. My actions, my views and my life have slowly but surely, started to revolve around “What will they “Think” of me?”
I wake up each morning with this image I have to live up to. My actions for the day, my thoughts and my behavior are all centered on one thing – being accepted. Ever patient, ever smiling and affable at all times, all just to belong, just to be part of a society. But in this run to be accepted, in this run to belong, I have forgotten the people that matter, my love ones, my friends and family. Why?? Because they are friends and family, hence they should know, they should understand my behavior, and after all, it’s only “family & friends” we will get over it. I have good and valid reasons for the way I behave so why can’t they accept it. And hey, I can’t be cheerful and affable at all times can I? I need to unwind and what better place than home, or with friends, where I can offload all my tragedies and know that they will support me.
But on my journey to be a well accepted social being, I have hurt my loved ones the most. Always making demands of them but never giving them anything and wondering why they are so stiff and un-understanding. Why is it that we hurt the people we love the most, those that matter the most to you and are the closest to you? Why? I have never found the answer.
The irony is that in my quest to please “society”, I constantly answer the “What will they “Think” of me?” question. But the answer is my interpretation of what I think the “society” wants and hence I behave in a pattern that suits. I hope you are following my logic here, because the way “I” act is based on “MY” interpretation of what “I” think the society expects from me. There is no truth, no logic and no proof as to what I am doing/behaving is exactly as I am expected to, and therein lays the tragedy of my life. In my eagerness to please everyone, I have stopped being myself, I have forgotten what my loved ones expect from me and I have forgotten as to what I want from myself.
A life so misguided, shambolic and rudderless that it’s driven by impressions, perceptions and interpretations of what I think it should be, not what I want it to be or what it should actually be. Always scared to break the mould, lest I be recognized and singled out, but not too happy in the cocoon I have surrounded myself with; such has been my story the last few years. Mine has been a life with no goals, ambitions or a sense of achievement.
This is not a gripe about my life, but a confession of a life gone awry but this is not redemption either. I have destroyed a thousand bridges with my family and friends and it will be an arduous task rebuilding them. Relationships that took me years to develop and painstakingly build, I have destroyed in a matter of months, all in a quest to live an “interpretation of the right life”. My inability to face my fear of rejection from the society has culminated in a life filled with hurting and paining my love ones.
Where is redemption I ask? What will set right the unforgivable mistakes of my life? What is done is done and I don’t want to dwell on the what-if scenarios. In my journey the last few years, I had forgotten the most important “They” in the equation. “They” being my loved ones, the only people that matter to me and they should be the ones I should think about and worry about and lead my life for.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Procrastination
pro·cras·ti·nate (pr -kr s t -n t , pr -) - To put off doing something, especially out of habitual laziness
Procrastination, that’s something we all have done, at some point in our life, some more regularly than others. But me, I have filtered it down and refined it into an art form. Like the old adage goes, why do something today, that can be done tomorrow. Why?
It’s such a waste of effort and time to do things. You could spend your time more productively sleeping, eating, watching TV or just putting on weight. There are so many pleasures to be had, so why exert yourself? Man is a creature of habit, and I am especially so, and since bad habits are easier to pick up and maintain, I love them even more. They say “Ignorance is Bliss” but I believe laziness should be also included. What better bliss can be had?
I feel procrastination feeds into the Hedonistic philosophy of mine. Hedonism subscribes to the ideology "whatever causes pleasure is right” and I totally agree I must add. Why do something that causes pain and grief? Why not avoid the mundane and the boring chores of life? I say pleasure is the highest good. You can’t fight that philosophy can you? When you cant be perfect why try? Why put in the effort and fail? Avoid the pitfalls and the effort as well.
Among the different types of procrastinator, I am cast in the mould of “the relaxed, pleasure seeking procrastinator”. A self-indulgent procrastinator, who feels that gain, is not worth the pain. Denis Waitley hit the point when he said, “Procrastination is the fear of success... Because success is heavy, it carries a responsibility with it, it is much easier to procrastinate and live on the "someday I'll" philosophy”. How true.
When I look back at 27 years of what has been my life so far, I can see phases with insanely frenetic activities and similarly, phases with mind numbing inactivity. As I approach 30, not with great gusto I must add, I see myself as a lazy slob, with no clear aim and direction. A rudderless boat, floating downstream pulled hither and thither with no shore in sight. There is a saying by Henri Estienne which I think is apt “If youth but knew; if age but could”. Without knowing, I did a lot, and now when I know, I just don’t want to. The cruel irony doesn’t escape me, it stares me in the eye, it mocks me, defies me & denies me and worst of all, I can’t seem to do anything.
It’s been more than a year since I last posted a blog, all along blaming my busy schedule and lack of motivation to write. I have lost touch with numerous friends & family, due to my inability to email or call. I have lost my enthusiasm to achieve, work seems so laborious, in short I have lost my ability to enjoy the simple things in life. Or as my friend would say, I have lost my “MOJO”. I guess it’s the bane of my life, this inane habit, this self perfected art-form that has so innocuously taken control over me. My hedonistic habits never once led me to think I was procrastinating. In my eagerness to maximize short term gains I have lost my long term happiness.
This blog has been a Catharsis for me. I wanted to see in black and white the tragedy of my life. I wanted to see the irony, accept my fault and move on. But more importantly I wanted to write again. I wanted to cleanse my system and restart and write anything, something. It might appeal to most and appears disjointed at best, but I am happy to be writing. I am happy to be doing something other than procrastinating for once.
Self realization, it’s said, is half the battle won, so hopefully I am on the mend. I want more in life than just being a slob. I want do more than just procrastinate. They say “Seek and you shall find”, I am going to start my journey all over again.
pro·cras·ti·nate (pr -kr s t -n t , pr -) - To put off doing something, especially out of habitual laziness
Procrastination, that’s something we all have done, at some point in our life, some more regularly than others. But me, I have filtered it down and refined it into an art form. Like the old adage goes, why do something today, that can be done tomorrow. Why?
It’s such a waste of effort and time to do things. You could spend your time more productively sleeping, eating, watching TV or just putting on weight. There are so many pleasures to be had, so why exert yourself? Man is a creature of habit, and I am especially so, and since bad habits are easier to pick up and maintain, I love them even more. They say “Ignorance is Bliss” but I believe laziness should be also included. What better bliss can be had?
I feel procrastination feeds into the Hedonistic philosophy of mine. Hedonism subscribes to the ideology "whatever causes pleasure is right” and I totally agree I must add. Why do something that causes pain and grief? Why not avoid the mundane and the boring chores of life? I say pleasure is the highest good. You can’t fight that philosophy can you? When you cant be perfect why try? Why put in the effort and fail? Avoid the pitfalls and the effort as well.
Among the different types of procrastinator, I am cast in the mould of “the relaxed, pleasure seeking procrastinator”. A self-indulgent procrastinator, who feels that gain, is not worth the pain. Denis Waitley hit the point when he said, “Procrastination is the fear of success... Because success is heavy, it carries a responsibility with it, it is much easier to procrastinate and live on the "someday I'll" philosophy”. How true.
When I look back at 27 years of what has been my life so far, I can see phases with insanely frenetic activities and similarly, phases with mind numbing inactivity. As I approach 30, not with great gusto I must add, I see myself as a lazy slob, with no clear aim and direction. A rudderless boat, floating downstream pulled hither and thither with no shore in sight. There is a saying by Henri Estienne which I think is apt “If youth but knew; if age but could”. Without knowing, I did a lot, and now when I know, I just don’t want to. The cruel irony doesn’t escape me, it stares me in the eye, it mocks me, defies me & denies me and worst of all, I can’t seem to do anything.
It’s been more than a year since I last posted a blog, all along blaming my busy schedule and lack of motivation to write. I have lost touch with numerous friends & family, due to my inability to email or call. I have lost my enthusiasm to achieve, work seems so laborious, in short I have lost my ability to enjoy the simple things in life. Or as my friend would say, I have lost my “MOJO”. I guess it’s the bane of my life, this inane habit, this self perfected art-form that has so innocuously taken control over me. My hedonistic habits never once led me to think I was procrastinating. In my eagerness to maximize short term gains I have lost my long term happiness.
This blog has been a Catharsis for me. I wanted to see in black and white the tragedy of my life. I wanted to see the irony, accept my fault and move on. But more importantly I wanted to write again. I wanted to cleanse my system and restart and write anything, something. It might appeal to most and appears disjointed at best, but I am happy to be writing. I am happy to be doing something other than procrastinating for once.
Self realization, it’s said, is half the battle won, so hopefully I am on the mend. I want more in life than just being a slob. I want do more than just procrastinate. They say “Seek and you shall find”, I am going to start my journey all over again.
Monday, June 14, 2004
writ·er's block (r t rz) n.
"A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing"
That’s the dictionary version of my experience over the past few months. I have been facing a writer’s block. My inability to spew out words captured adroitly and I was praying, hoping, wishing, that this block would disappear true to its meaning. But it wasn’t temporary at all, and that’s when I thought why not to write on my inability to write. Hmmm … I was proud that I had outsmarted my own weakness. I was gloating and basking in my glory. Alas I never realised how fickle these moments can be !!
Yep, you guessed it right, I still had the block and the words were refusing to flow, or should I say even ooze or drip out. My river of thoughts had run dry, not that it was ever flowing in profusion, but this droughty spell was a bit too long for my liking. I cried out for inspirations, like the Indian farmer’s do for rain during drought. I prayed to all gods, across all religions but was never blessed with an idea.
I wrote a sentence, erased it, shook my head, bit my nails bare, nibbled on my collars, wrote again, deleted again, a never ending process some would say, and mostly I was rewarded with an empty white screen. Bare and devoid of alphabets, however much I wished otherwise. The screen was bare and empty, mocking me, challenging me and teasing me at my inability to write.
They say, its better to have tried and failed, than to have never tried at all. I drew solace from this fact. I had tried and no one could blame me for not trying, or of being a lethargic, disinterested writer or an insouciant. Well what more could I say ? It’s hard enough to write decent stuff, without having people turn up their noses, and add to it the writer’s block; I was kayoed from the start.
I rest my case, my time to write will come and I will wait for that day.
"A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing"
That’s the dictionary version of my experience over the past few months. I have been facing a writer’s block. My inability to spew out words captured adroitly and I was praying, hoping, wishing, that this block would disappear true to its meaning. But it wasn’t temporary at all, and that’s when I thought why not to write on my inability to write. Hmmm … I was proud that I had outsmarted my own weakness. I was gloating and basking in my glory. Alas I never realised how fickle these moments can be !!
Yep, you guessed it right, I still had the block and the words were refusing to flow, or should I say even ooze or drip out. My river of thoughts had run dry, not that it was ever flowing in profusion, but this droughty spell was a bit too long for my liking. I cried out for inspirations, like the Indian farmer’s do for rain during drought. I prayed to all gods, across all religions but was never blessed with an idea.
I wrote a sentence, erased it, shook my head, bit my nails bare, nibbled on my collars, wrote again, deleted again, a never ending process some would say, and mostly I was rewarded with an empty white screen. Bare and devoid of alphabets, however much I wished otherwise. The screen was bare and empty, mocking me, challenging me and teasing me at my inability to write.
They say, its better to have tried and failed, than to have never tried at all. I drew solace from this fact. I had tried and no one could blame me for not trying, or of being a lethargic, disinterested writer or an insouciant. Well what more could I say ? It’s hard enough to write decent stuff, without having people turn up their noses, and add to it the writer’s block; I was kayoed from the start.
I rest my case, my time to write will come and I will wait for that day.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
FEAR
In India the popular saying goes, “he who is afraid, is dead”, but then the other side of the saying goes, “he who is scared, lives to tell the tale”. But I feel, that we have nothing to fear, but fear itself. All our actions and reactions are driven by fear. I feel that fear is the driving force, the reason and the impetus in our lives.
Since our childhood days, our parents control us by instilling fear, “ don’t do that/ this.... or else …God / Father will punish u”. The childhood curiosity is quelled and controlled by use of fear. A child’s imagination is snipped at the bud, using fear, never reason, because fear is so easy to instil and invoke whenever needed. Our child-like curiosity scares the hell out of our parents ('But mum, I just wanted to see what would happen if I used the phone in the shower'), which is why parents then try to scare it out of their kids. How? With stories about curious children who insist on prying into things that are best left alone and who end up getting turned into things, shoved into ovens or eaten by wild animals.
Even the Holy Scriptures and epics do a good job of instilling fear too. You'll find the Old Testament a rich source of this stuff: God says to the human race (the two of them) 'Listen you crazy kids, do anything, go anywhere but keep the hell away from the tree of knowledge... eat not of its fruit or you're history.' Well, you know what happened next - Eve got curious and God does some pretty heavy smiting. You can imagine God as a Robert DeNiro type... 'Are you listenin' to me? Are you listenin' to me? I'm askin' you if you're listenin' to me? Huh? Well BAM! How do ya like that?')
The good book makes the penalty pretty clear - mind your own damn business or the entire human race will be damned to live and die in pain.
Every culture tells the same story - a forbidden thing, a curious spirit, eternal damnation and death. These stories serve to keep kids at home and men & women in line... and by and large, they work pretty well.
The Indian epics and beliefs also instil this fear in abundance into the masses. Personally I believe God is man’s greatest invention. God and religion, the tools, invented to make the mankind compliant and obedient. “God is everywhere, God sees everything, and God is Omnipotent, Omniscient & Omnipresent”. The concept of heaven & earth, of liberation, mukthi & niravana, all invented to make people feel guilty. Guilt!!! The realisation of ones sins, the best tool used in conjunction with repentance, to harness mankind. Great were the minds, who realised the Fear Factor and invented the tools to make man subservient.
We as humans are scared about everything. We are afraid of what others think about us. We are afraid of making a fool of ourselves, or being laughed at. We are afraid of being hurt, we are afraid of losing our near & dear ones. Well, we are afraid of fear itself. Fear rules and governs our behaviours, actions and beliefs. Couple, fear with guilt and it becomes too potent a mix to handle, Heady & dangerous.
We love someone, with a fear of losing them; we work, fearing a life of joblessness and hardship. We do things, fearing what would happen if we didn’t. We have fun, but with a feeling of uneasiness involved. Always with a nagging thought or two we move ahead in life.
Cant we do things, for the sake of doing them and not because of the fear associated with it. Can’t we live our lives not having to cringe, whinge and complain? Can’t we live for the sake of living, without fear to cloud our thoughts and actions? Can’t we just BE??
In India the popular saying goes, “he who is afraid, is dead”, but then the other side of the saying goes, “he who is scared, lives to tell the tale”. But I feel, that we have nothing to fear, but fear itself. All our actions and reactions are driven by fear. I feel that fear is the driving force, the reason and the impetus in our lives.
Since our childhood days, our parents control us by instilling fear, “ don’t do that/ this.... or else …God / Father will punish u”. The childhood curiosity is quelled and controlled by use of fear. A child’s imagination is snipped at the bud, using fear, never reason, because fear is so easy to instil and invoke whenever needed. Our child-like curiosity scares the hell out of our parents ('But mum, I just wanted to see what would happen if I used the phone in the shower'), which is why parents then try to scare it out of their kids. How? With stories about curious children who insist on prying into things that are best left alone and who end up getting turned into things, shoved into ovens or eaten by wild animals.
Even the Holy Scriptures and epics do a good job of instilling fear too. You'll find the Old Testament a rich source of this stuff: God says to the human race (the two of them) 'Listen you crazy kids, do anything, go anywhere but keep the hell away from the tree of knowledge... eat not of its fruit or you're history.' Well, you know what happened next - Eve got curious and God does some pretty heavy smiting. You can imagine God as a Robert DeNiro type... 'Are you listenin' to me? Are you listenin' to me? I'm askin' you if you're listenin' to me? Huh? Well BAM! How do ya like that?')
The good book makes the penalty pretty clear - mind your own damn business or the entire human race will be damned to live and die in pain.
Every culture tells the same story - a forbidden thing, a curious spirit, eternal damnation and death. These stories serve to keep kids at home and men & women in line... and by and large, they work pretty well.
The Indian epics and beliefs also instil this fear in abundance into the masses. Personally I believe God is man’s greatest invention. God and religion, the tools, invented to make the mankind compliant and obedient. “God is everywhere, God sees everything, and God is Omnipotent, Omniscient & Omnipresent”. The concept of heaven & earth, of liberation, mukthi & niravana, all invented to make people feel guilty. Guilt!!! The realisation of ones sins, the best tool used in conjunction with repentance, to harness mankind. Great were the minds, who realised the Fear Factor and invented the tools to make man subservient.
We as humans are scared about everything. We are afraid of what others think about us. We are afraid of making a fool of ourselves, or being laughed at. We are afraid of being hurt, we are afraid of losing our near & dear ones. Well, we are afraid of fear itself. Fear rules and governs our behaviours, actions and beliefs. Couple, fear with guilt and it becomes too potent a mix to handle, Heady & dangerous.
We love someone, with a fear of losing them; we work, fearing a life of joblessness and hardship. We do things, fearing what would happen if we didn’t. We have fun, but with a feeling of uneasiness involved. Always with a nagging thought or two we move ahead in life.
Cant we do things, for the sake of doing them and not because of the fear associated with it. Can’t we live our lives not having to cringe, whinge and complain? Can’t we live for the sake of living, without fear to cloud our thoughts and actions? Can’t we just BE??
Friday, March 05, 2004
The Broken Mirror
I was on my way to college, the streets were overflowing with the rush hour traffic and I just couldn’t help but remember India. Though the blaring horns and the enraged drivers weren’t present, the melee did resemble India’s normal time traffic, though a lot more organised. There were lotsa cars parked on the way and I happened to glance at one such car’s rear view mirror.
The glass was cracked and I could see myriad images of myself in it. Each image a part of the whole, but also consummate in itself. Every image telling it’s own tale, but not big enough to make up a whole picture.
That’s when I realised, how that broken mirror reflected us humans. All of us have these images / experiences stored within us. Each one consummate in itself and still a part of the bigger picture. Each experience telling us different tales, ones of sorrow, of grief, of happiness, of joy, of every moment that makes our life complete. Each experience a story in itself but not big enough to make up the novel, namely our life.
Our whole life would be incomplete with any one piece missing, but then would it be complete if the mirror weren’t to have cracked at all. Would we have been better off without these cracks??? Or do these cracks, these pieces enrich us?? What would we be if we weren’t to have these broken pieces in us at all?? How would we behave?? How would we think?? Would we be happy always and ever after?? How do we find a balance, i. e how do we decide how many pieces to have, do we have a choice to decide?? Which pieces to retain and which to forget?? All of us are scared to have the cracks that causes up pain. We try to hide them, run away from them, and anything but acknowledge them. Can we ever outrun them?? Should we run ??
The questions to which I have no answers, however much ever I delve into it. It amazes me, that we as humans fight against all odds, but are never really able to fight or define the cracks within us.
I was on my way to college, the streets were overflowing with the rush hour traffic and I just couldn’t help but remember India. Though the blaring horns and the enraged drivers weren’t present, the melee did resemble India’s normal time traffic, though a lot more organised. There were lotsa cars parked on the way and I happened to glance at one such car’s rear view mirror.
The glass was cracked and I could see myriad images of myself in it. Each image a part of the whole, but also consummate in itself. Every image telling it’s own tale, but not big enough to make up a whole picture.
That’s when I realised, how that broken mirror reflected us humans. All of us have these images / experiences stored within us. Each one consummate in itself and still a part of the bigger picture. Each experience telling us different tales, ones of sorrow, of grief, of happiness, of joy, of every moment that makes our life complete. Each experience a story in itself but not big enough to make up the novel, namely our life.
Our whole life would be incomplete with any one piece missing, but then would it be complete if the mirror weren’t to have cracked at all. Would we have been better off without these cracks??? Or do these cracks, these pieces enrich us?? What would we be if we weren’t to have these broken pieces in us at all?? How would we behave?? How would we think?? Would we be happy always and ever after?? How do we find a balance, i. e how do we decide how many pieces to have, do we have a choice to decide?? Which pieces to retain and which to forget?? All of us are scared to have the cracks that causes up pain. We try to hide them, run away from them, and anything but acknowledge them. Can we ever outrun them?? Should we run ??
The questions to which I have no answers, however much ever I delve into it. It amazes me, that we as humans fight against all odds, but are never really able to fight or define the cracks within us.
VROOOOOMMMMMM
I have to confess that I am a humble devotee, an ardent worshipper and a zealous fan of F1 (Formula 1 for the uninitiated). And I have had this unique privilege to watch it live today. A day I shall remember for the rest of my life, not as much for the sound and the furore the cars create, but for the guts, strength and will of the drivers to race at such breakneck speeds.
My father would have termed such racing as lunacy, almost bordering on insanity. I mean, who in their right mind would hurl down a road at nearly 300 Kmph, and take corners at 100 k’s, I could totally understand my dads feeling. But then the same madness of hurling down the tight corners attracts me to this marvellous sport.
This game typically personifies the glorious uncertainty of life. The drivers do not know what lies behind the turns or for that matter whether they would live to see another turn, or whether they would finish the race, as they compete for supremacy. The odds stacked against the competing drivers, equally, and the adrenalin rush being the only prime motivator. F1 is such a treat to watch, as much for the technology and glamour associated with it, as for the sheer audacity and temperament of the drivers. Each twist & turn testing the mettle of the driver, prodding him, cajoling him and daring him to make a mistake and every driver pitting his wits against the fellow driver and the track itself, makes for a fascinating & eclectic mix. The cars are really a piece of art every car unique by itself and a technological masterpiece in its own right.
They say seeing is believing and today I saw the spectacle that I have always been dreaming about.
I have to confess that I am a humble devotee, an ardent worshipper and a zealous fan of F1 (Formula 1 for the uninitiated). And I have had this unique privilege to watch it live today. A day I shall remember for the rest of my life, not as much for the sound and the furore the cars create, but for the guts, strength and will of the drivers to race at such breakneck speeds.
My father would have termed such racing as lunacy, almost bordering on insanity. I mean, who in their right mind would hurl down a road at nearly 300 Kmph, and take corners at 100 k’s, I could totally understand my dads feeling. But then the same madness of hurling down the tight corners attracts me to this marvellous sport.
This game typically personifies the glorious uncertainty of life. The drivers do not know what lies behind the turns or for that matter whether they would live to see another turn, or whether they would finish the race, as they compete for supremacy. The odds stacked against the competing drivers, equally, and the adrenalin rush being the only prime motivator. F1 is such a treat to watch, as much for the technology and glamour associated with it, as for the sheer audacity and temperament of the drivers. Each twist & turn testing the mettle of the driver, prodding him, cajoling him and daring him to make a mistake and every driver pitting his wits against the fellow driver and the track itself, makes for a fascinating & eclectic mix. The cars are really a piece of art every car unique by itself and a technological masterpiece in its own right.
They say seeing is believing and today I saw the spectacle that I have always been dreaming about.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
THE MAN – A LEGEND
“Steve Waugh …. Steve Waugh … Steve Waugh”, chanted the crowd. And was it a boisterous reception at that. I was nearly deafened by the roar and enthralled at the support. Here was Steve Waugh walking onto the cricket field, whose exploits had made him folklore. A man, who has become a legend in the annals of Australian cricket.
I absolutely adore this man, as much for his grit and determination as for his simplicity. A man who batted like he lived his life, always straight from the heart, unflinching and unwavering like the rock of Gibraltar. A leader of unusual character, who led by example. He always thrived on and relished challenges. And has never shied from one.
I had this unusual privilege of watching him play in his second last match at the MCG. The atmosphere was electric and the big man looked nervous a bit. He was on his last tour and India had surprised everybody, including themselves by being ahead in the test series, a spectacle the Australians rarely get to see. It was the Boxing Day test match, a tradition in Melbourne, and the stadium was jam packed, bursting at the seams. All of them there to pay tribute to this great man, well, almost everybody. India had a cracker of the first day but then on the game belonged to the Australians. All of them playing for one thing, to save their great captain from ignominy, such is the power of this great man that he drives his team to achieve greater heights.
A man, known as much for his ruthlessness on the field, as for his humility off it. A man with his association with charities in India and the world over did his bit for the society and quietly at that. A person who took both victory & defeat as they come, with grace and humility.
At the end of it , I am proud that I had this unique opportunity to watch the great man play on his last tour. This memory will always be etched in my mind. And I wish this man all the very best that life has to offer. Hats off to a true legend.
“Steve Waugh …. Steve Waugh … Steve Waugh”, chanted the crowd. And was it a boisterous reception at that. I was nearly deafened by the roar and enthralled at the support. Here was Steve Waugh walking onto the cricket field, whose exploits had made him folklore. A man, who has become a legend in the annals of Australian cricket.
I absolutely adore this man, as much for his grit and determination as for his simplicity. A man who batted like he lived his life, always straight from the heart, unflinching and unwavering like the rock of Gibraltar. A leader of unusual character, who led by example. He always thrived on and relished challenges. And has never shied from one.
I had this unusual privilege of watching him play in his second last match at the MCG. The atmosphere was electric and the big man looked nervous a bit. He was on his last tour and India had surprised everybody, including themselves by being ahead in the test series, a spectacle the Australians rarely get to see. It was the Boxing Day test match, a tradition in Melbourne, and the stadium was jam packed, bursting at the seams. All of them there to pay tribute to this great man, well, almost everybody. India had a cracker of the first day but then on the game belonged to the Australians. All of them playing for one thing, to save their great captain from ignominy, such is the power of this great man that he drives his team to achieve greater heights.
A man, known as much for his ruthlessness on the field, as for his humility off it. A man with his association with charities in India and the world over did his bit for the society and quietly at that. A person who took both victory & defeat as they come, with grace and humility.
At the end of it , I am proud that I had this unique opportunity to watch the great man play on his last tour. This memory will always be etched in my mind. And I wish this man all the very best that life has to offer. Hats off to a true legend.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Friends
Friends, my bane & boon rolled into one, the cause of plethora of joys and a deluge of miseries in my life. But then, I should say that I have been blessed with friends. I have been lucky that I have always uncannily found the right set of friends thru out my life.
One calls himself OAO (one & only), though we have found other flowery expansions to the acronym. I met him on the first day of college. Both of us alien to the class while the people around us were having a gala time, meeting with old friends and being glad that they were in the same class. We were the square pegs in the round hole in that class. A look at each other and an instantaneous acknowledgement of our friendship, the feeling to belong drawing us together. Well we have never regretted that decision till date. His amazing sense of humour was the bond between us, which we both understood and laughed at.
Another’s a lanky & wacky character. An enigma in himself, which I believe he himself cant decipher. Resembling HOBBES in Calvin & Hobbes. A devious mind with a satirical sense of humour, both ironic & comic, which he can use to great effect. Gifted with an unique sense of prose. His prose, not know for eloquence, but for the simplicity, which I absolutely adore, for the message he gets across. Grudgingly I have to admit that he’s been my inspiration to write. So if u don’t like what I write, u know whom to blame.
Another a gifted Sagittarian who masters all the sports he plays instantaneously, and if he gets his mind to it, almost does any thing instantly. A gregarious person, who’s shy at heart. He’s a unique amalgamation of character, a traditional at heart with a modern outlook. A lover of animals, with a soft interior but a rough exterior for all to see, which hides his feelings & protects him from the world.
Another a PJ master, again lanky and reed like, with an arcane sense of humour that shifts from the absolute absurd to the extremely hilarious. A true giver and a trier. Who’s always worried about the other guy than about himself. Ever helping and smiling, hiding his feelings adroitly. A person who bores you to death with his PJ’s, but then someone whom u can always look up to in times of distress. A person who laughs his grief away, a quality rarely found.
Last but not the least, is my new friend, about whom I have written before. Smiling, gregarious and cherubic. Immature and innocent in a childish way, ever willing to help anyone in need, personifying the true friend quote. A quality, which causes him more grief than good. A person who tries to hide his inner feelings with a laughing exterior, with success.
In retrospect, I can say yes, I have been blessed. Been blessed with “All Weather Friends”, who I know are there for me and for whom I will be there. Always
Friends, my bane & boon rolled into one, the cause of plethora of joys and a deluge of miseries in my life. But then, I should say that I have been blessed with friends. I have been lucky that I have always uncannily found the right set of friends thru out my life.
One calls himself OAO (one & only), though we have found other flowery expansions to the acronym. I met him on the first day of college. Both of us alien to the class while the people around us were having a gala time, meeting with old friends and being glad that they were in the same class. We were the square pegs in the round hole in that class. A look at each other and an instantaneous acknowledgement of our friendship, the feeling to belong drawing us together. Well we have never regretted that decision till date. His amazing sense of humour was the bond between us, which we both understood and laughed at.
Another’s a lanky & wacky character. An enigma in himself, which I believe he himself cant decipher. Resembling HOBBES in Calvin & Hobbes. A devious mind with a satirical sense of humour, both ironic & comic, which he can use to great effect. Gifted with an unique sense of prose. His prose, not know for eloquence, but for the simplicity, which I absolutely adore, for the message he gets across. Grudgingly I have to admit that he’s been my inspiration to write. So if u don’t like what I write, u know whom to blame.
Another a gifted Sagittarian who masters all the sports he plays instantaneously, and if he gets his mind to it, almost does any thing instantly. A gregarious person, who’s shy at heart. He’s a unique amalgamation of character, a traditional at heart with a modern outlook. A lover of animals, with a soft interior but a rough exterior for all to see, which hides his feelings & protects him from the world.
Another a PJ master, again lanky and reed like, with an arcane sense of humour that shifts from the absolute absurd to the extremely hilarious. A true giver and a trier. Who’s always worried about the other guy than about himself. Ever helping and smiling, hiding his feelings adroitly. A person who bores you to death with his PJ’s, but then someone whom u can always look up to in times of distress. A person who laughs his grief away, a quality rarely found.
Last but not the least, is my new friend, about whom I have written before. Smiling, gregarious and cherubic. Immature and innocent in a childish way, ever willing to help anyone in need, personifying the true friend quote. A quality, which causes him more grief than good. A person who tries to hide his inner feelings with a laughing exterior, with success.
In retrospect, I can say yes, I have been blessed. Been blessed with “All Weather Friends”, who I know are there for me and for whom I will be there. Always
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
A STORY GONE AWRY
Words fail me and thoughts elude me. I have been staring into space trying to crystallise my thoughts to pen them, but success eluded me. Every one who has read my blog has commonly complained that I do not write about myself. So I decided to give it a go. And here I was trying my best, chewing the pencil, writing down my thoughts.
Being the modest person that I am, I wanted to write down my life in black & white. But then no one would be interested to know the bland details of my life, and being the vain person I am I wanted this to be my pièce de resistance, a coup de grace. So I had to be a hindi film hero with his demure failings who gets his girl in the end.
Girl … there again I was stumped. I haven’t been as promiscuous as some or as innocent as others, none the less I have to admit the failure I am. My first crush, hmmmmm, I still get those goose bumps when I think of her, was my neighbour. A beautiful, intelligent (as intelligent a girl can be) and an amazingly wonderful person. Who still manages to tingle my emotions, whenever I think of her!! . A person with such a rare enthusiasm and vivacity for life, that she smote me. How could I resist her rustic and earthly charm? Me an earthling, with this heavenly beauty around, how could I be safe. And I fell head over heels in love, but then I was too tongue tied to tell her. I was ogling at her and talking to her everyday and secretly wishing that I could go up to her and tell her what I felt. But all along, I thought it was a crush and like all crushes I thought it would wear out. But I was wrong and it grew on me. And one fine day she come up to me in her charming way and says that she’s engaged. Thud & shatter went my heart. A thousand fragments splattered across. I managed a weak smile and wished her all the luck. She got married and unfortunately I went to her marriage. There she was in the most gorgeous red dress and I was agape. I rue my decision still, cause that image of her is still with me and haunts me. I used to wish that she gets a divorce and comes back so that I could marry her. But it never happened. And in the mean while I finished college and moved on. I met her when she had her kids, two of them a boy & a girl and as cute and bubbly as their mother. And the third time I met her my world broke around me. She wasn’t the person I was in love with anymore. The world and its cruel people had got to her. She had lost that joy for living, and she was a shadow of herself. I was shocked and happy at the same time. Sad to see the ravages of time and life on a dear friend, happy to be rid of the demons that had haunted me for so long.
So there I was again beginning with a clean slate and a slightly troubled conscience. I met other girls and came to know them and understand them, but none matched the first crush. I always ended up comparing the girls to my first crush and I was never satisfied. Like they say u only fall in love once and rest is a compromise. I guess I was personifying it to some extent.
So there again my story fell flat. How could I continue and paint a drab picture of myself. For my blog to be a success I need people to read it and say how good it was and return back to read more. This story never could ensure me that. A paradox really as to how could I spice it up?
Sleepless nights, gaunt looks and tons of caffeine later I decide to write about some funny incident about myself. Bang I thought that I had hit on the secret formula to make my blog a secret and to address everyone’s needs. Sadly being the joker I am, I never realised how hard a task that would be. It was like looking for a one eyed fish in a shoal, whilst u didn’t know how to swim. I mean my life’s been a joke in itself. My parents can vouch for that, or for that matter my umpteen relative’s and friends too. Of no fixed address and of no sound moorings, I am as lost as a drunk in the desert most of the time. Why drunk??? Don’t ask me. I just feel like a drunk most of the time, never stable and always whimsical. I have been called names all along my life depending on the then current situations. “Bhageera” in line with the panther in Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book” a take off on my surname. “Hyperactive”, my teacher’s coinage, describing my high energy levels, along with other inane and mundane ones. The most recent one being “pookie”. Garfield readers would be able to identify that with his pet doll, but believe me it’s not as flattering. Pookie means a fart in “Tulu”, a language spoken in Managalore in south India. And that exemplified the chatterbox that I am and a person who sweet-talks his way around. So kindly do not take it in the literal sense.
But again I was facing a blank wall. Who would want to know all the measly names I was called. I was back where I belonged and I needed to do something, to begin somewhere. I needed to take off somewhere and I decided to do it the typical Hindi movie istyle. I wanted to begin on a tragic note, and say how I emerged unscathed out of it, just like how gold comes purified out of fire; I wanted to show how I came out of tragedies. How I contemplated suicide, how I became an atheist, how I rebelled?? But would anyone want to know that?? Aren’t people burdened enough with their grief’s and sorrows, without me having to add to it?? I wasn’t looking for sympathy here. I was looking for viewer ship.
So that’s when I decided, like all good things in life, my idea of writing a coup de grace, had to end. It was a tragic painful and an ignoble death of a great dream.
Words fail me and thoughts elude me. I have been staring into space trying to crystallise my thoughts to pen them, but success eluded me. Every one who has read my blog has commonly complained that I do not write about myself. So I decided to give it a go. And here I was trying my best, chewing the pencil, writing down my thoughts.
Being the modest person that I am, I wanted to write down my life in black & white. But then no one would be interested to know the bland details of my life, and being the vain person I am I wanted this to be my pièce de resistance, a coup de grace. So I had to be a hindi film hero with his demure failings who gets his girl in the end.
Girl … there again I was stumped. I haven’t been as promiscuous as some or as innocent as others, none the less I have to admit the failure I am. My first crush, hmmmmm, I still get those goose bumps when I think of her, was my neighbour. A beautiful, intelligent (as intelligent a girl can be) and an amazingly wonderful person. Who still manages to tingle my emotions, whenever I think of her!! . A person with such a rare enthusiasm and vivacity for life, that she smote me. How could I resist her rustic and earthly charm? Me an earthling, with this heavenly beauty around, how could I be safe. And I fell head over heels in love, but then I was too tongue tied to tell her. I was ogling at her and talking to her everyday and secretly wishing that I could go up to her and tell her what I felt. But all along, I thought it was a crush and like all crushes I thought it would wear out. But I was wrong and it grew on me. And one fine day she come up to me in her charming way and says that she’s engaged. Thud & shatter went my heart. A thousand fragments splattered across. I managed a weak smile and wished her all the luck. She got married and unfortunately I went to her marriage. There she was in the most gorgeous red dress and I was agape. I rue my decision still, cause that image of her is still with me and haunts me. I used to wish that she gets a divorce and comes back so that I could marry her. But it never happened. And in the mean while I finished college and moved on. I met her when she had her kids, two of them a boy & a girl and as cute and bubbly as their mother. And the third time I met her my world broke around me. She wasn’t the person I was in love with anymore. The world and its cruel people had got to her. She had lost that joy for living, and she was a shadow of herself. I was shocked and happy at the same time. Sad to see the ravages of time and life on a dear friend, happy to be rid of the demons that had haunted me for so long.
So there I was again beginning with a clean slate and a slightly troubled conscience. I met other girls and came to know them and understand them, but none matched the first crush. I always ended up comparing the girls to my first crush and I was never satisfied. Like they say u only fall in love once and rest is a compromise. I guess I was personifying it to some extent.
So there again my story fell flat. How could I continue and paint a drab picture of myself. For my blog to be a success I need people to read it and say how good it was and return back to read more. This story never could ensure me that. A paradox really as to how could I spice it up?
Sleepless nights, gaunt looks and tons of caffeine later I decide to write about some funny incident about myself. Bang I thought that I had hit on the secret formula to make my blog a secret and to address everyone’s needs. Sadly being the joker I am, I never realised how hard a task that would be. It was like looking for a one eyed fish in a shoal, whilst u didn’t know how to swim. I mean my life’s been a joke in itself. My parents can vouch for that, or for that matter my umpteen relative’s and friends too. Of no fixed address and of no sound moorings, I am as lost as a drunk in the desert most of the time. Why drunk??? Don’t ask me. I just feel like a drunk most of the time, never stable and always whimsical. I have been called names all along my life depending on the then current situations. “Bhageera” in line with the panther in Rudyard Kipling’s “Jungle Book” a take off on my surname. “Hyperactive”, my teacher’s coinage, describing my high energy levels, along with other inane and mundane ones. The most recent one being “pookie”. Garfield readers would be able to identify that with his pet doll, but believe me it’s not as flattering. Pookie means a fart in “Tulu”, a language spoken in Managalore in south India. And that exemplified the chatterbox that I am and a person who sweet-talks his way around. So kindly do not take it in the literal sense.
But again I was facing a blank wall. Who would want to know all the measly names I was called. I was back where I belonged and I needed to do something, to begin somewhere. I needed to take off somewhere and I decided to do it the typical Hindi movie istyle. I wanted to begin on a tragic note, and say how I emerged unscathed out of it, just like how gold comes purified out of fire; I wanted to show how I came out of tragedies. How I contemplated suicide, how I became an atheist, how I rebelled?? But would anyone want to know that?? Aren’t people burdened enough with their grief’s and sorrows, without me having to add to it?? I wasn’t looking for sympathy here. I was looking for viewer ship.
So that’s when I decided, like all good things in life, my idea of writing a coup de grace, had to end. It was a tragic painful and an ignoble death of a great dream.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
KUDOS TO A FRIEND
I stifled a yawn … hmmmm … it was getting late. I dared to check the time, and my watch read 3 am …. Yawn ….. I was tired, but I still had a long night ahead. I had to complete my assignment at all costs … yawnnnnn … there I go again …Mercifully my friend drops in and invites me for a cup of coffee, he was a life saver.
I stretch myself on my way out and my joints crunched under the effort. I made my cup of cappuccino and he brewed his usual strong tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me awake. We start to chat, at which I am adept, in the students lounge. It was that time of the day when u tend to be a bit melancholic. The tone was just right to discuss LIFE. We start talking of a recent class assignment we had done, where we talk of our life in detail and all the phases we went thru.
The sleep, the melancholy and the time led us to drop of our individual façade’s and be ourselves. The rampart, which we build around ourselves to protect us, was broken. Rid of the pretences we shared our life. And suddenly I realised how much grief my friend had in his heart. Ensconced deep within him, shrouded from the world. The magnitude of the suffering, know only to him and for me to guess. A shudder ran thru me as I tried to fathom his grief. If you knew my friend, such grief could never be attributed to him. He’s ever smiling, cheerful & gregarious. I was awestruck that someone with so much grief could be so outgoing, smiling & ever helping.
I guess that showed me the true strength of the human spirit, the will power. An entity never considered nor given the due it deserves. Our inner strength helping us overcome all difficulties and soldier on in life.
We as humans have this amazing gift to rebound from failures. The tenacity, the courage and a never ending flow of optimism, which drives us on. An obstinacy to defy life and demure failings underline the paradox that we are. It showed me that we could choose the way we want to be, and not let situations govern us. I realised that it is up-to each one of us to plot the course we want to travel.
Like they say “if there is a will, there is a way” and my friend exemplified this adage. And thanks to my friend, i will never wallow in self-pity or grief ever again, because I know that tomorrow is always there. And there are people who grieve more than I ever will.
I stifled a yawn … hmmmm … it was getting late. I dared to check the time, and my watch read 3 am …. Yawn ….. I was tired, but I still had a long night ahead. I had to complete my assignment at all costs … yawnnnnn … there I go again …Mercifully my friend drops in and invites me for a cup of coffee, he was a life saver.
I stretch myself on my way out and my joints crunched under the effort. I made my cup of cappuccino and he brewed his usual strong tea. I needed the caffeine to keep me awake. We start to chat, at which I am adept, in the students lounge. It was that time of the day when u tend to be a bit melancholic. The tone was just right to discuss LIFE. We start talking of a recent class assignment we had done, where we talk of our life in detail and all the phases we went thru.
The sleep, the melancholy and the time led us to drop of our individual façade’s and be ourselves. The rampart, which we build around ourselves to protect us, was broken. Rid of the pretences we shared our life. And suddenly I realised how much grief my friend had in his heart. Ensconced deep within him, shrouded from the world. The magnitude of the suffering, know only to him and for me to guess. A shudder ran thru me as I tried to fathom his grief. If you knew my friend, such grief could never be attributed to him. He’s ever smiling, cheerful & gregarious. I was awestruck that someone with so much grief could be so outgoing, smiling & ever helping.
I guess that showed me the true strength of the human spirit, the will power. An entity never considered nor given the due it deserves. Our inner strength helping us overcome all difficulties and soldier on in life.
We as humans have this amazing gift to rebound from failures. The tenacity, the courage and a never ending flow of optimism, which drives us on. An obstinacy to defy life and demure failings underline the paradox that we are. It showed me that we could choose the way we want to be, and not let situations govern us. I realised that it is up-to each one of us to plot the course we want to travel.
Like they say “if there is a will, there is a way” and my friend exemplified this adage. And thanks to my friend, i will never wallow in self-pity or grief ever again, because I know that tomorrow is always there. And there are people who grieve more than I ever will.
Friday, November 28, 2003
I ME MYSELF ( A Class Assignment - BRAND CALLED YOU)
Theodore Roosevelt said, “It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails will never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat”.
That’s an apt description of me. I am a doer, a trier and a go-getter. Enthusiastic and ever smiling in the face of adversity. A non-conformist, not for the sake of being odd but because I always believe that there can be, and is a better and efficient way to do things. Ever willing to learn from my own mistakes and from others. I am an optimist who never gives up.
Like Buddha advised, “ Believe nothing just because a belief is generally held”, I like to question everything thrown at me just to understand the core concept behind it, rather than just accept things at their face value. I am unique, because I can work as efficiently in a team as on my own. I am a self-starter, an achiever and a firm believer in goals. Targets and challenges drive me.
My friends and colleagues would describe me as friendly, enthusiastic, motivating, hardworking and sincere and with a proven track record I am hard to beat. I doubled my export sales figure in 2001-02. Established and beat my targets for a new product developed for a specific domestic market segment in 2003. Developed and established a radical product for the Indian blasting industry. Re-engineered our production plant and process mapped the 12 key critical areas. Was an internal auditor for our ISO system implementation, while changing the certification from 1994 version to the current 2000 version.
A strong Engineering background, a varied and diverse on the job experience and expertise, and a humility to accept Gandhi’s saying, “It is unwise to be too sure of one's own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err” makes me a must have on any team.
This is ME.
Theodore Roosevelt said, “It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails will never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat”.
That’s an apt description of me. I am a doer, a trier and a go-getter. Enthusiastic and ever smiling in the face of adversity. A non-conformist, not for the sake of being odd but because I always believe that there can be, and is a better and efficient way to do things. Ever willing to learn from my own mistakes and from others. I am an optimist who never gives up.
Like Buddha advised, “ Believe nothing just because a belief is generally held”, I like to question everything thrown at me just to understand the core concept behind it, rather than just accept things at their face value. I am unique, because I can work as efficiently in a team as on my own. I am a self-starter, an achiever and a firm believer in goals. Targets and challenges drive me.
My friends and colleagues would describe me as friendly, enthusiastic, motivating, hardworking and sincere and with a proven track record I am hard to beat. I doubled my export sales figure in 2001-02. Established and beat my targets for a new product developed for a specific domestic market segment in 2003. Developed and established a radical product for the Indian blasting industry. Re-engineered our production plant and process mapped the 12 key critical areas. Was an internal auditor for our ISO system implementation, while changing the certification from 1994 version to the current 2000 version.
A strong Engineering background, a varied and diverse on the job experience and expertise, and a humility to accept Gandhi’s saying, “It is unwise to be too sure of one's own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err” makes me a must have on any team.
This is ME.
Monday, November 24, 2003
LIVING THE DREAM
“Kindly fasten your seatbelts,” the voice from the speaker was instructing me. The last 6 hours had been a whirlwind and it had barely registered in my mind. As I fastened my seat belts I realised where I was. The adrenalin had carried me through these hours and I had barely felt any emotions, except that the job at hand had to be done. And now in the confines of the plane cabin, physically drained, the emotions surfaced. Luckily I was tied in, or else I would have jumped up. So this was it, I was leaving, in search of destiny, following my call.
This faith is such a funny thing, they say, “Without faith, nothing is possible. With it, nothing is impossible”. With only this faith as a guide, I was undertaking this journey. Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men, they say, may be this was my biggest dream ever. You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. But you may have to work for it, however.
Buddha says, “What you are is what you have been, and what you will be is what you do now”. Here I was doing something. Something, which I believed would give me happiness. But here inside the plane, tied to my seat, I realised how wrong one could be. I realised that I had wiped my life’s slate clean and I had to start all over again. I shuddered at the enormity of the task. Did I have it in me?? Self-doubt was gnawing at me. Along with that, the sorrow of going away from home & country, in search of the destined land was catching up.
Sometimes we just wish life could be easier and simpler. Wishing we never had to make these tough choices. “But the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”(Martin Luther King Jr).
By our choices and action, we create the person that we are. Our choices shape our destiny. Without our choices and actions, we could never have learned anything from life. We live, because we choose to live. We dream, because we choose to dream and we act, because we choose, what to and how to act. Our life is a progression of the choices we make.
And here, tied up in a small seat, squirming, I realised …… I had made a choice, a choice to follow my dream. And at that moment I choose to live my dream, come what may.
“Kindly fasten your seatbelts,” the voice from the speaker was instructing me. The last 6 hours had been a whirlwind and it had barely registered in my mind. As I fastened my seat belts I realised where I was. The adrenalin had carried me through these hours and I had barely felt any emotions, except that the job at hand had to be done. And now in the confines of the plane cabin, physically drained, the emotions surfaced. Luckily I was tied in, or else I would have jumped up. So this was it, I was leaving, in search of destiny, following my call.
This faith is such a funny thing, they say, “Without faith, nothing is possible. With it, nothing is impossible”. With only this faith as a guide, I was undertaking this journey. Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men, they say, may be this was my biggest dream ever. You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. But you may have to work for it, however.
Buddha says, “What you are is what you have been, and what you will be is what you do now”. Here I was doing something. Something, which I believed would give me happiness. But here inside the plane, tied to my seat, I realised how wrong one could be. I realised that I had wiped my life’s slate clean and I had to start all over again. I shuddered at the enormity of the task. Did I have it in me?? Self-doubt was gnawing at me. Along with that, the sorrow of going away from home & country, in search of the destined land was catching up.
Sometimes we just wish life could be easier and simpler. Wishing we never had to make these tough choices. “But the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”(Martin Luther King Jr).
By our choices and action, we create the person that we are. Our choices shape our destiny. Without our choices and actions, we could never have learned anything from life. We live, because we choose to live. We dream, because we choose to dream and we act, because we choose, what to and how to act. Our life is a progression of the choices we make.
And here, tied up in a small seat, squirming, I realised …… I had made a choice, a choice to follow my dream. And at that moment I choose to live my dream, come what may.
A Love Story (my friends contribution)
He was a great fellow... my friend... one of those rarer types... the kind whose worth you wouldn't know when he is around, however, would miss dearly when not. He was not a great speaker. But, what he lacked in speech, he made up in words. He was one helluva terrific writer.... Even now, when I don't have anything to do, I go and read his works all over again. ( I have made an archive of them. ) They make you nostalgic... make you want to kiss the feet of the person who invented prose.
One would not call him extravagantly handsome... the type who would make women turn and toss in their sleep; but he knew his share of women. Some did confide in him more than they would do with their other girl friends. He was a hit among his friends. Both men and women. Partly, 'cos he appeared more matured than the rest, and partly, 'cos he was a great listener. He was a like a sponge. The kind who could sit and listen to you for hours on end, without saying a word; without uttering a word of advice or suggestion.... A great listener... In more ways than one, he was much like me. One of the many reasons, we were on the same plane.
As I said, he was no stranger to women; and very few could rouse his interest in them. ( Mind you... am not speaking about sexuality.. ) But... she was different. He had been watching her since college. Many had vied for her attention and lost. It had been three years now. He was in the second year of engineering and.. there she was... walking ahead of him. He would see her every morning, while going to college, wanting to approach her, but daring not to.
Then one day, he mustered up enough courage, and went up to her and spoke. God... Was it awkward.. remembers he.. with a wry grin on his face. But to his surprise, she was far different than what he had thought. She was great..... She was not witty.. but she would make him smile. She would not spare him, if he was wrong, lashing at him... but she would make him proud. She would never make herself up for anyone.... but she never needed to.. In short, she was wonderful... A perfet companion..
They would meet every morning, and walk those two minutes, talking about everything under the sun. He would laugh... She would laugh.. And both would laugh out loud... making the early morning joggers turn and smile thinking, "They would make such a beautiful pair.."
She would confide in him that he was the only man she was close to so much... She had never known that a man and woman could be such wonderful companions. That they could share such a beautiful and pure relationship... But he would only smile when she would say that. He knew that the time was near. He was nearing the end of his engineering; only a month to go.... He knew well what her response would be... He dreaded it... He knew it might as well be the end of their relationship... But he had to say it. He had to tell her that he had grown to be fond of her. That he was in love with her.
And.. then, so it happened.... He said it... She felt betrayed. He did not want to look into those eyes. But he braved himself to. "Even you turned out to be the same.... Even you..." they said.
They met the next morning again.. Walked those two minutes, she didnt utter a word. He said he would wait... wait for her reply, as long as he can... and left...
Three years down... he still loves her. Everytime he thinks of her, a smile breaks on his lips.. She could make him happy.. Very very happy... Everytime he walks down that lane, he is reminded of those two minutes they used to share... and laughs involuntarily.. Oh ! Yes.. She could make him very very happy.. He is waiting to ask her again. Ask her hand in marriage again... But he dreads that.. No.. He doesn't even want to think about it...
But everything happens in this world as he dreads..... He comes to know that she is married.. married and happy. Married.. not to him... But happy nonetheless... A wry smile breaks on his lips.. Selfish though he was, isn't that what he too had wanted.. To keep her happy.
He felt exhausted.... spent... he had spent all his love on her. He believes he cannot love anyone... not after her... not anymore...
I believe so too..... I believe that he is truly spent...and he can never write about love again....
He was a great fellow... my friend... one of those rarer types... the kind whose worth you wouldn't know when he is around, however, would miss dearly when not. He was not a great speaker. But, what he lacked in speech, he made up in words. He was one helluva terrific writer.... Even now, when I don't have anything to do, I go and read his works all over again. ( I have made an archive of them. ) They make you nostalgic... make you want to kiss the feet of the person who invented prose.
One would not call him extravagantly handsome... the type who would make women turn and toss in their sleep; but he knew his share of women. Some did confide in him more than they would do with their other girl friends. He was a hit among his friends. Both men and women. Partly, 'cos he appeared more matured than the rest, and partly, 'cos he was a great listener. He was a like a sponge. The kind who could sit and listen to you for hours on end, without saying a word; without uttering a word of advice or suggestion.... A great listener... In more ways than one, he was much like me. One of the many reasons, we were on the same plane.
As I said, he was no stranger to women; and very few could rouse his interest in them. ( Mind you... am not speaking about sexuality.. ) But... she was different. He had been watching her since college. Many had vied for her attention and lost. It had been three years now. He was in the second year of engineering and.. there she was... walking ahead of him. He would see her every morning, while going to college, wanting to approach her, but daring not to.
Then one day, he mustered up enough courage, and went up to her and spoke. God... Was it awkward.. remembers he.. with a wry grin on his face. But to his surprise, she was far different than what he had thought. She was great..... She was not witty.. but she would make him smile. She would not spare him, if he was wrong, lashing at him... but she would make him proud. She would never make herself up for anyone.... but she never needed to.. In short, she was wonderful... A perfet companion..
They would meet every morning, and walk those two minutes, talking about everything under the sun. He would laugh... She would laugh.. And both would laugh out loud... making the early morning joggers turn and smile thinking, "They would make such a beautiful pair.."
She would confide in him that he was the only man she was close to so much... She had never known that a man and woman could be such wonderful companions. That they could share such a beautiful and pure relationship... But he would only smile when she would say that. He knew that the time was near. He was nearing the end of his engineering; only a month to go.... He knew well what her response would be... He dreaded it... He knew it might as well be the end of their relationship... But he had to say it. He had to tell her that he had grown to be fond of her. That he was in love with her.
And.. then, so it happened.... He said it... She felt betrayed. He did not want to look into those eyes. But he braved himself to. "Even you turned out to be the same.... Even you..." they said.
They met the next morning again.. Walked those two minutes, she didnt utter a word. He said he would wait... wait for her reply, as long as he can... and left...
Three years down... he still loves her. Everytime he thinks of her, a smile breaks on his lips.. She could make him happy.. Very very happy... Everytime he walks down that lane, he is reminded of those two minutes they used to share... and laughs involuntarily.. Oh ! Yes.. She could make him very very happy.. He is waiting to ask her again. Ask her hand in marriage again... But he dreads that.. No.. He doesn't even want to think about it...
But everything happens in this world as he dreads..... He comes to know that she is married.. married and happy. Married.. not to him... But happy nonetheless... A wry smile breaks on his lips.. Selfish though he was, isn't that what he too had wanted.. To keep her happy.
He felt exhausted.... spent... he had spent all his love on her. He believes he cannot love anyone... not after her... not anymore...
I believe so too..... I believe that he is truly spent...and he can never write about love again....
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
LIVING
The announcer was announcing the arrival of my train. i was standing on the edge of the platform & I peered in the direction of the expected arrival. The trains hooting announced its arrival. A sigh escaped me. I had just finished my last day at work and i was on my way home
HOME. I thought that this would be redemption, joy, happiness, bliss ... how wrong i was. The only thing i now felt was pain, a sense of loss .... a sense of loneliness, a void gnawing at my heart. I dreaded that i had made a mistake. I wanted time to rewind, wishing that this moment had never arrived, wishing i could get another chance. But would i get it right then ??? ... SIGHHHH
It was not a sigh of happiness,at the train being only an hour late, but that of despair and agony. Why was life like this ?? WHY ?? I was leaving behind three years of my life. Three years that taught me what 22 yrs before that couldnt.The images of my life flashed before me.
The joy, the pain, the happiness, the agony, ... the whole gamut of my emotions were laid bare by these fleeting images. And i desperately tried to hang onto them, dreading even to blink, lest i loose these precious
glimpses. There i was staring into space. But it was like holding onto sand and clasping the fist.
Suddenly a flurry of activity broke out around me, jolting me into reality. Other passengers and coolies got ready to embark the approaching train. Everyone strode around with a purpose. I was the only person unsure. Unsure whether i had done the right thing, unsure about the future and what it had in store, unsure whether i could handle it all. I faltered.
The hooting grew louder and the train moved onto the platform. Its somberness & girth dwarfing me. Challenging me to board it, daring me, enticing me. Suddenly a coolie bumped into me, the spell was broken, i
shook myself and reminded myself - " nothing is permanent but change" So i decided to take up the challenge, and i boarded the train. I decided to LIVE
Life in its myriad form is a gamut of images, emotions, people and experiences that each of us go through. I decided then, To live life as it is, not worry about what was and what will be, but live what is. I decided
to move on and let bygones be bygones. May be this is what LIVING is all about .. i will never know however hard i try.
And someday i will know whether i have done the right thing,but i will have no regrets, for i have decided to LIVE and i guess thats what LIFE is for.
The announcer was announcing the arrival of my train. i was standing on the edge of the platform & I peered in the direction of the expected arrival. The trains hooting announced its arrival. A sigh escaped me. I had just finished my last day at work and i was on my way home
HOME. I thought that this would be redemption, joy, happiness, bliss ... how wrong i was. The only thing i now felt was pain, a sense of loss .... a sense of loneliness, a void gnawing at my heart. I dreaded that i had made a mistake. I wanted time to rewind, wishing that this moment had never arrived, wishing i could get another chance. But would i get it right then ??? ... SIGHHHH
It was not a sigh of happiness,at the train being only an hour late, but that of despair and agony. Why was life like this ?? WHY ?? I was leaving behind three years of my life. Three years that taught me what 22 yrs before that couldnt.The images of my life flashed before me.
The joy, the pain, the happiness, the agony, ... the whole gamut of my emotions were laid bare by these fleeting images. And i desperately tried to hang onto them, dreading even to blink, lest i loose these precious
glimpses. There i was staring into space. But it was like holding onto sand and clasping the fist.
Suddenly a flurry of activity broke out around me, jolting me into reality. Other passengers and coolies got ready to embark the approaching train. Everyone strode around with a purpose. I was the only person unsure. Unsure whether i had done the right thing, unsure about the future and what it had in store, unsure whether i could handle it all. I faltered.
The hooting grew louder and the train moved onto the platform. Its somberness & girth dwarfing me. Challenging me to board it, daring me, enticing me. Suddenly a coolie bumped into me, the spell was broken, i
shook myself and reminded myself - " nothing is permanent but change" So i decided to take up the challenge, and i boarded the train. I decided to LIVE
Life in its myriad form is a gamut of images, emotions, people and experiences that each of us go through. I decided then, To live life as it is, not worry about what was and what will be, but live what is. I decided
to move on and let bygones be bygones. May be this is what LIVING is all about .. i will never know however hard i try.
And someday i will know whether i have done the right thing,but i will have no regrets, for i have decided to LIVE and i guess thats what LIFE is for.
BEAUTY & THE BEAST
Expectation, they say, reduce the joy of living, and i was high on expectations on this day. And the apprehension of being disappointed was not far behind. My colleague was very effusive in his praise for the Taj, which built up my hopes, and i prayed that they would not be dashed.
We were dropped off at a narrow alley that led upto the south gate entrance of the Taj. The alley was caulked, with tiny shops lining it. Each shopkeeper announcing his merchandise & fare, trying to entice the customers. We marched on purposefully towards our goal. Though we tried to catch a glimpse of Taj, we were unsuccessful. This did dampen my spirits, but then i am made of sterner stuff.
We bought our tickets and were hounded by the guides, each trying to offer his services. Being a haggler, my colleague bargained with gusto and he managed to secure the service of a guide for 80 bucks, the faint smile of victory played on his lips and he gave me a knowledgeable glance. So with a small moral victory we entered. The security guards stopped us and myriad questions like - do u have a mobile.... do u smoke ?? are u carrying cigarettes & matches .. etc were thrown at us. The metal detectors were run over us and we passed the stringent test and bundled out.
And there it was right before our eyes, the symbol of eternal love, a wonder. An alluringly resplendent monument. I was transported into a Quixotic reverie, mesmerised by this translucent beauty. The guide was reeling off his mugged facts and his harsh voice jarred me back to reality. There was the Taj ahead of me, in all its splendour. They say, a Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever and this vision of the Taj shall always be a joy for me. A view so encompassing, so celestial so powerful, you are left wondering about your mortality. This eternal & etheral beauty literally gave me goosebumps. From the gate this monument looks divine and as you walk towards it, along the beautifully manicured & lawned pathway, it grows on you. Its a colossal structure that underlines how shallow our life really is. The taj has the capacity to make you philosophical. You wonder, in amazement, as to how and what justifies such a grandiose structure. Is love so all powerful a feeling ?? i will never know.
The carvings and the inlay work on the Taj is exquisite. Huge carvings made from single blocks of marble leave u dumbstruck. The dexterity of the craftsmen, and their patience are hard to imagine. The motivation .... still harder. The semi-precious stones were ground to fine powder and used for the inlay works. And precious stones were ground to small sizes to make exotic shapes. All this must have been arduous work, which leaves you breathless. The Yamuna flowing nearby adds to the glamour. So serene & peaceful. A vision to behold and worship.
The taj houses the bodies of both Mumtaz & Shahjahan. The burial is visible and a small light illuminates the interior of the Taj. This is done to avoid the yellowing of the Taj a menace which cannot be stopped.
Though the industries were moved to save the Taj, what do we do about the other menaces ?? namely the people. The carvings and writing on the walls have been marred with people scribbling on them. The inlaid stones have been dug out leaving gashes and craters in place. The marble structure left to the mercy of people who do not appreciate its value ... what chance does it have ?? A friend of mine used to say " Life has zero pass percentage, nobody gets out of it alive" ... may be the same holds good for the Taj, unless something is done.
In retrospect i can say, the Taj more than live up to its expectation. A beauty i shall behold & cherish
Expectation, they say, reduce the joy of living, and i was high on expectations on this day. And the apprehension of being disappointed was not far behind. My colleague was very effusive in his praise for the Taj, which built up my hopes, and i prayed that they would not be dashed.
We were dropped off at a narrow alley that led upto the south gate entrance of the Taj. The alley was caulked, with tiny shops lining it. Each shopkeeper announcing his merchandise & fare, trying to entice the customers. We marched on purposefully towards our goal. Though we tried to catch a glimpse of Taj, we were unsuccessful. This did dampen my spirits, but then i am made of sterner stuff.
We bought our tickets and were hounded by the guides, each trying to offer his services. Being a haggler, my colleague bargained with gusto and he managed to secure the service of a guide for 80 bucks, the faint smile of victory played on his lips and he gave me a knowledgeable glance. So with a small moral victory we entered. The security guards stopped us and myriad questions like - do u have a mobile.... do u smoke ?? are u carrying cigarettes & matches .. etc were thrown at us. The metal detectors were run over us and we passed the stringent test and bundled out.
And there it was right before our eyes, the symbol of eternal love, a wonder. An alluringly resplendent monument. I was transported into a Quixotic reverie, mesmerised by this translucent beauty. The guide was reeling off his mugged facts and his harsh voice jarred me back to reality. There was the Taj ahead of me, in all its splendour. They say, a Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever and this vision of the Taj shall always be a joy for me. A view so encompassing, so celestial so powerful, you are left wondering about your mortality. This eternal & etheral beauty literally gave me goosebumps. From the gate this monument looks divine and as you walk towards it, along the beautifully manicured & lawned pathway, it grows on you. Its a colossal structure that underlines how shallow our life really is. The taj has the capacity to make you philosophical. You wonder, in amazement, as to how and what justifies such a grandiose structure. Is love so all powerful a feeling ?? i will never know.
The carvings and the inlay work on the Taj is exquisite. Huge carvings made from single blocks of marble leave u dumbstruck. The dexterity of the craftsmen, and their patience are hard to imagine. The motivation .... still harder. The semi-precious stones were ground to fine powder and used for the inlay works. And precious stones were ground to small sizes to make exotic shapes. All this must have been arduous work, which leaves you breathless. The Yamuna flowing nearby adds to the glamour. So serene & peaceful. A vision to behold and worship.
The taj houses the bodies of both Mumtaz & Shahjahan. The burial is visible and a small light illuminates the interior of the Taj. This is done to avoid the yellowing of the Taj a menace which cannot be stopped.
Though the industries were moved to save the Taj, what do we do about the other menaces ?? namely the people. The carvings and writing on the walls have been marred with people scribbling on them. The inlaid stones have been dug out leaving gashes and craters in place. The marble structure left to the mercy of people who do not appreciate its value ... what chance does it have ?? A friend of mine used to say " Life has zero pass percentage, nobody gets out of it alive" ... may be the same holds good for the Taj, unless something is done.
In retrospect i can say, the Taj more than live up to its expectation. A beauty i shall behold & cherish
Sunday, November 16, 2003
LOVE & MADNESS
There i was .... running at break neck speed towards the ticket counter..... the train was supposed to leave any moment & i had to buy a ticket still ..... damn the crowd ..... well my turn came & i thrust my hand forward & got the ticket .... just in time ... the departure was being announced ... and i made another dash .... i just made it into the general compartment & there i stood panting at the entrance, ... phew ....
slowly regaining my breath i soaked in the situation around me .... it was absolute mayhem ..... people were strewn all over the place ... any piece of space available was grabbed ..... the floor, the seats, the baggage rack
.... all conqured .... people shuffled around to make themselves as comfortable as possible & some stalwarts were even dozing ... experience is a great teacher they say ... and i was barely able to stand myself with all
the shoves & pushes .... tenacity at such moments was paramount .....the sadus & sants jostled with us mortals .... the kumbh ka mela in nasik seems to have done its trick in ensuring that the railways get a good business
well u might be thinking what was i doing here in the first place ?? .... u see Bill Clinton said that there we two groups of people, one who have seen the Taj Mahal & the other who havent..... and i was hell bent on correcting this anomaly by joining the former group ... and here i was sweating it out to make it a reality .....
we made it to Agra after three & half hrs. of jostling, pushing and shoving ... anything ... just to stand upright .... the sweat stench was becoming unbearable...... now i realised why the cats were so territorial .... we fell out onto the the platform & were hounded by the rickshaw guys ... we finalised a deal with a guy & off we went ....
He dropped us off at the south entranace .... and we were craning our head to get a glimpse of the Taj .... but no ... the entrance concealed well ..... so we bought the tickets & we entered .. after a strict security check
....
And there it was ... in all its splendour & magnificence ..... one mans love for his wife ..... the magnanimity of the thought was beyond ones comprehension .... it was an awesome sight .... a sight to behold, to be drunk, assimilated & ground into our senses .... the structure was immense & beautiful at the same time & Yamuna flowing by added to the granduer .... what a visionary the architect should have been .... the intricate carvings
in marble, the translucence and the sheer height makes it truly a wonder
....
was it a mans madness or greatness that he spent 22 years, 22 Lakhs using 22000 workers build this homage to love .... what drove him to such extremes ?? what was his motivation ??? these reasons fled me .... i couldnt justify it !!!!! .... may be i should fall in LOVE
U should see it to belive it ....
There i was .... running at break neck speed towards the ticket counter..... the train was supposed to leave any moment & i had to buy a ticket still ..... damn the crowd ..... well my turn came & i thrust my hand forward & got the ticket .... just in time ... the departure was being announced ... and i made another dash .... i just made it into the general compartment & there i stood panting at the entrance, ... phew ....
slowly regaining my breath i soaked in the situation around me .... it was absolute mayhem ..... people were strewn all over the place ... any piece of space available was grabbed ..... the floor, the seats, the baggage rack
.... all conqured .... people shuffled around to make themselves as comfortable as possible & some stalwarts were even dozing ... experience is a great teacher they say ... and i was barely able to stand myself with all
the shoves & pushes .... tenacity at such moments was paramount .....the sadus & sants jostled with us mortals .... the kumbh ka mela in nasik seems to have done its trick in ensuring that the railways get a good business
well u might be thinking what was i doing here in the first place ?? .... u see Bill Clinton said that there we two groups of people, one who have seen the Taj Mahal & the other who havent..... and i was hell bent on correcting this anomaly by joining the former group ... and here i was sweating it out to make it a reality .....
we made it to Agra after three & half hrs. of jostling, pushing and shoving ... anything ... just to stand upright .... the sweat stench was becoming unbearable...... now i realised why the cats were so territorial .... we fell out onto the the platform & were hounded by the rickshaw guys ... we finalised a deal with a guy & off we went ....
He dropped us off at the south entranace .... and we were craning our head to get a glimpse of the Taj .... but no ... the entrance concealed well ..... so we bought the tickets & we entered .. after a strict security check
....
And there it was ... in all its splendour & magnificence ..... one mans love for his wife ..... the magnanimity of the thought was beyond ones comprehension .... it was an awesome sight .... a sight to behold, to be drunk, assimilated & ground into our senses .... the structure was immense & beautiful at the same time & Yamuna flowing by added to the granduer .... what a visionary the architect should have been .... the intricate carvings
in marble, the translucence and the sheer height makes it truly a wonder
....
was it a mans madness or greatness that he spent 22 years, 22 Lakhs using 22000 workers build this homage to love .... what drove him to such extremes ?? what was his motivation ??? these reasons fled me .... i couldnt justify it !!!!! .... may be i should fall in LOVE
U should see it to belive it ....
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