Ravi Nirmal Sharma's Blog, page 2

Let the light come into your life!

A sparrow trusts the divine and never complains of the rice it didn’t get but the wheat grain it had to eat instead. It never questions divine intelligence. It lives every day of its life joyously. It leaves its destiny into the powerful hands of the divine and lives peacefully. 

But we human beings question everything because we have to see the logic behind everything. 

When the things that should never happen to us, don’t happen, we think we have been betrayed or cheated. We lose faith in divine and take control. We fail to recognize that the force that makes us see with the eye that cannot be replicated; the force that makes our heart pump and feel emotions (a device that keeps working non-stop for as long as some 80 years); the force that runs the autonomous system within us which regulates temperature of our body more efficiently than the best of an air conditioner known to us; the force that runs the miracle of life – this force can have a much higher and intelligent plan for us than our limited thinking can even begin to perceive. We weep, despair and complain because rubbish doesn’t fall on our lap. 

When we cannot get the divine to bring rubbish to our lives we start creating rubbish ourselves and that is where the divine has no control. Because he has given us complete freedom to be whatever we desire to be. It will never let bad things happen to us. Never. But our action’s reaction, to the situations we do not accept, is a law that even he cant change. 

Many years later we always realize why what we did not get was rubbish. But by then it is too late. We, using our freedom, have changed our DNA because of the negative behavior and response to the things we do not accept. These negative patterns seep into our genes and become impossible to remove. We will always get the answers why certain things didn’t happen to us, but they have a habit of coming in late. We have to learn to be patient. 

The sparrow is frail, yet its sight is a joy to behold. Can we not accept what comes and be the sparrows for the world? Let the light flow in and be the light itself? 

Coz when we open the doors and windows to light, life becomes suddenly very bright. And a lot of good starts happening in that light….

The Guy Who Ate Aloo Chaawal

There was a guy amongst us whose favourite dish was the most inappropriate of the combinations. He would always order aloo (dry and without curry) along with chaawal when all of us sat down to eat. Everyone would gawk at the odd combination he would gulp down. What he ate seemed ridiculous to all of us!

Every other thing about him was weird. He used to wear a green shirt with blue pants, red socks and brown shoes. He would have been an object of ridicule but for his brilliance and most of us relied on him when we got stuck with our jobs. He was a mine of information and always seemed to be ready with solutions whenever we got stuck!

So everyone tolerated his weird combinations. If he would have been anyone else, he would have been an outcast in our circle.

Then for sometime, he began to stay aloof. He would disappear for long periods of time in the evenings and seemed to have quit from our social circle.

Then the transformation happened.

He was back to normal. It seemed incredible! He would eat what everyone would eat and stopped eating Aloo Chawal. He also stopped wearing weird color combinations when it came to clothes and looked very smart and handsome.

For sometime we did not ask him the reason of the sudden change. But when it became a routine for a fairly long time, one of us couldnt help but ask.

His reply was amazing!

“I was brilliant but foolish when it came to applying my brilliance. I had the desire to be a healthy human being but was messing with my health with smoking and drinking. I wanted to get the best out of my environment but was driving the most polluting SUV. I wanted other people to respect me while I had no respect for them. I was at odds with myself in almost everything. i did observe my odd behaviour but could do little to rectify it. So I decided to live with unsuitable combinations when it came to eating and dressing because my life was a horrible mix and match of unsuitable combinations. I vowed that I would punish myself till the time I achieved at least 80% harmony in the goals of my life. My weird combination of aloo chawal and my colorful dressing sense would serve me as a reminder. That my life was too messed up and needed attention and this was a good way to remind me of my priorities.”

“So what changed you? How did you get that 80% harmony?”

I started meditating. It gave me inner connection and the strength to change what I previously couldn’t. From observing my flaws helplessly, I could transform myself and get rid of my conflicting behaviour. I changed for good and now I don’t see any reason to eat Aloo Chawal. I am living in harmony with my priorities!”

So that explained his long periods of absence. He was connecting with himself, achieving the harmony and removing the discord. And he had worked it from inside out.

His words made us introspect. There was too much of Aloo Chawal in our life too. Only we were blind to it!

Some parts of North India experiencing a cold wave in June!

There is a cold wave blowing in North India. Yes, in the middle of June.

The temperature has dipped to 15 degrees centigrade at many places.

Many children have been affected by this wave have been hospitalized with pneumonia. Several of them are on nebulizers. The adults are showing symptoms of cold no medicine can treat. They have bad throats and fever. Yet another set of people have joint pains and body aches. The sale of light blankets and quilts has gone up too.

Don’t believe it? Heat wave is for the poor people. The rich are suffering the impact of a cold wave in June as their air conditioners set on 15 degrees cause all the side effects of a cold wave in North India.

Their children are on nebulizers and many of them have actually been hospitalized because the light quilts they wear at night fell off their body and their body was chilled to sickness.

Two kinds of people, living in two extremes in June, in North India.

Need some balance in life in heat. And everything.

Everyone will pay a price for extremes. Some sooner, others later. There is no getting away from it.

Act now. Achieve balance in life!

I hated my father

How I hated him for everything.

His inability to earn enough money for us. His laid back life. His preference for spirituality rather than wealth. His pathetic reasons for not buying me Smart phones and instead hand me over cheap phones I felt so ashamed to possess. His shirking brands and going in for cheap clothes that I am sure had many people laughing behind my back.

For every godamn thing he had a reason. There was no way I could win an argument against him.

I had wanted a laptop but he planted a desktop for me giving all the reasons why a desktop was a better option.

The fact was that he was taking life a bit too easy instead of slogging hard and getting in the moolah that was so necessary for me to have all the things I wanted.

“There is a fine balance between wealth and joy. Excess of wealth can eat into joy which I don’t want. We are happy with whatever we have.”

He was into a government job. While all his colleagues minted money through bribes, he was the only one who didn’t take any bribes. And because he did not pay out to his seniors, he was never promoted. He didn’t make a compromise and because of it I was making compromises everywhere in life.

OK, it is bad to take bribes, but he could have taken up to some business. When I suggested this to him he said that Govt rules did not allow that and so he didn’t take up any business. Govt rules my foot! Look left and right  and you will hardly find any govt official observing rules. He did. And I suspected it was more because he wanted to take life easy, rather than being an honest person.

So we had big quarrels at home whenever I wanted a new pair of jeans, pocket money, the latest phone, or the laptop. He would open his purse only for bare essentials like he called them. And this meant books and studies. As if nothing else was important.

So I would raise my voice, shout, cry and pull my hair but he would not budge. He would either become very quiet or leave the house, leaving me frustrated.

The one who said that one could choose many things in the world but not one’s parents was dead right. I hated him from the bottom of my heart. Everywhere I saw parents pampering their only child and here I was, the most neglected, only child of the home. What a suck kind of luck was I born with. And how I hated being a part of this stingy family. Maybe it had got to do with my being a girl and not a boy!

Despite his claims of having less, he wasted a lot of money on charity. He would give alms to the poor. Once I actually stood in front of him with a begging bowl. The poor were actually luckier than me. He did not budge from his position and laughed it off.

So there were no birthday celebrations, no dining out, hardly a few holidays and just one movie in say two years. It was like I was living in a deprived African nation.

Then one day he died in a road accident. With the only earning member of the family gone, I was worried about the future. Mom was handicapped, both her legs were useless. But Mom, when she came out of her grief said he had made provisions for us with a hefty insurance. The amount was so big that we were richer with him dead, than he was alive. And in some corner of my heart, I cheered the fact that maybe now, I can get all those things he denied to me. Moreover, I was about to complete my education from IIT and being one of the top performers, I would definitely get a good job. So freedom was not far away.

On the tenth day after his death, mom handed me an envelope.

“He always had a premonition that he would die early. That is why he insured himself so heavily. And he had written this letter many years ago and wanted me to hand it to you, in case he died.”

I rolled my eyes. What sort of a father was he? And what could he possibly have written. Let me guess. Instructions to spend the money wisely. To be conscious of value for money. Not to be lavish. Think of the poor (as if I was rich!). All those things that he repeated and which irritated me no end.

Dearest Anuradha,

I am very proud of the way you have shaped yourself. Worked hard to be where you are. Every day, whenever I see you, I feel happy of the decision I made 20 years ago. Your mom could not have borne a child because of her handicap and so we adopted you. My mother wanted us to adopt a boy but I wanted a girl all along and when I saw you, I instinctively felt you were born to light up our home.

Three days later, when you developed pneumonia and we were told to admit you in the hospital, mom, my mother tried to convince me to send you back to the adoption centre from where we adopted you. The pressure was so much, and the money which I had was so less that I drove you back on that rainy day. When I was about to get down from the car, to return you from where I adopted you, you caught hold of my finger and smiled a beautiful smile. A thought occurred to me that instant. What if you were born to me? And what if you fell ill? To which place would I have gone to ‘return’ you?

I made the decision then and there. I took you back home. Mom called me insane but I had made my decision. You would be our daughter. No way I would return you to the adoption centre.

I had to spent 2 lacs on the operation. In that difficult time, my new car, which I had purchased a few months ago, was stolen. Mom kept telling me that you were jinxed and I should pack you back before it is too late. But you were our daughter, come what may.

That difficult phase of life passed and it took a long way to recover from that setback but we never felt sad for a moment. You were there to light our life and our home and make us so happy. We were glad you were a part of life. You made us forget any difficulty I was facing at my job because of the extremely corrupt and harrowing environment that I faced every day.

I know I have not been able to provide you with luxuries but I tried not to compromise on any necessities. Whenever they arose, God helped us by way of increments and salary hikes. There was not excess but there was enough to cope with expenses.

If you get this letter, it would mean I am no more. With my death, you would have some wealth that I could not give to you when I was alive. But I did my best and expect you to be a shining example of humanity. More than the love for worldly things, I would want you to have love for worldly living beings. I can see it there in you and with your intelligence and compassion, you will surely become an inspiration one day.

Be good to your mom, she has been my strength all these years. She enabled me to rough out life, even though people call her disabled.

I am glad of the two women who came in my life. You and her.

Don’t grieve over my death. We are here to play our roles and make the lives of other people easier. When the role is over, it is time to quit. But let’s do the best of our bit.

God bless!

The paper got smudged with tears. I remembered the stories of the horror of adoption homes where girls had been exploited, abused and raped. I saw all those things he did for me without complaint. I saw his face light up with a smile I always thought was a sarcastic grin.

What kind of a father was he?

I began to sob uncontrollably………

5 Stray Dogs, 1 Dilemma & Life’s Learnings

We are a big joint family. My parents, my younger brother’s family and mine, we all live together. We have a joint kitchen too. Feeding nine people means cooking a bit extra and that means a bit of wastage when it comes to food. We did try our best to cook a bit less but then seeing someone go hungry while the rest enjoyed a feast was a no no.

Everyday food was being thrown and it broke our heart.

So we were faced by a dilemma: What to do? Solution was not far away. There were many street dogs in our locality who looked expectantly at us for food and all of them surprisingly well mannered.

So the dilemma was resolved and I started feeding them.

At this point another dilemma erupted. One of these stray dogs was very strong and others were nervous of his presence. He merely had to appear and all the rest would go away. Even if they tried to partake the food, a mere growl from this strong dog was enough to scare them away.

Seeing the dog eat away all the food while the rest went hungry caused another dilemma. What to do?

We tried to give food to the other dogs on the sly. But this big dog had an uncanny intuition. He would appear suddenly out of nowhere and the poor dogs that had just settled to eat a meal would run away.

So we tried to get them into our house and locked the gate behind them and let them eat heartily. For some days the solution looked perfect. But the stray dogs became so comfortable inside the house that all of them started roaming inside our verandah (which is big). They would jump at and topple the dustbin and scatter the garbage, leaving behind a mess. They would rub their bodies against the sarees hung for drying. The younger dogs would even poop and piss. As time passed by, they became bolder and started walking in to our rooms.

Now, instead of giving food we were trying to chase them away all the day. I used to even throw chappals at them but making sure that they were never hit. But they were undeterred. Soon I brought a long bamboo stick and was chasing them, making sure never to hit them because I shun cruelty to helpless animals. They understood that I was less of angry and more of frustrated with them. Naturally, it took a really long time to get rid of them.

The traumatic experience made us shun serving them food. And so everyday food was being thrown to the bin while the dogs outside starved.

The bamboo stick was lying idle now as the dogs had stopped coming in. One day as I was about to throw food into the garbage bin, I had an idea. I picked the stick and took the food outside our gates (there are two). The problem was of our own making as we had invited the dogs inside and after that they thought it was their territory (dogs are territorial animals). The minute I served them food, the big dog appeared. But I was ready. I showed him the stick and he backed away. The other dogs had their food to their fill and the big dog slinked away after making two attempts to overpower them. Every time, I showed him the stick and he backed off.

I had a solution!

Once again, everyday I started serving these dogs food and the strong dog would try to frighten them, but my stick would deter him.

I was happy with the breakthrough but over the weeks, seeing the big dog leave dejectedly created another dilemma. It was not his fault that he was strong. He was just living in an animal world where the fittest survive. And now I was punishing him just because he was fit. That was no answer to the problem. In fact he needed more food than others because he was built solidly.

So the next day, I offered him some food and beckoned him. But he was confused. He would see my stick and back away. Slowly, I won his confidence and he ate his food.

The next day thinking I had become friendly, he tried to scare the other dogs but when I showed my stick he quietened his growls. It was an uneasy equillibrium, but I could get them all to eat.

10 days later, the stick became obsolete. All the dogs learned to share their meal peacefully.

The dilemma was resolved as the animals learned to co-exist instead of follow the survival of the fittest story or take us for granted.

So how does it reflect real life?

The incident forced me to think. We human beings are no different from the dogs. The ones who are strong can really corner the weak. It takes the law and the fear of the divine for us to share our bounty with others. 

At another level, parents with two children, one strong and the other weak go all out to support the weak child, little realizing that the stronger child too needs support exactly because he is strong and can go really a long way with just a little push. The support to the weaker child should never be at the cost of the stronger child because the stronger child will lose his potential and the weaker child will become manipulative, intrusive, selfish and troublesome, just like the weaker dogs who created anarchy because we supported them wrongly.

The trick is to follow the middle path as suggested by Buddha. Not maximizing one person at the cost of another, but optimizing.

Would love to hear your views on this.

 

AND SHE LIVED FOREVER!

When she first uttered those words, he never imagined she meant them literally. At that time so much was happening in their lives that this one ambiguous sentence didn’t mean much. It lost its significance in the more important things happening between them, things that distracted…

…Like her first touch – when he held her hand and felt the smallness and softness of it.

…Their very first kiss in the shadows by the moonlight.

…Watching her in the pink shades of her dress in which she looked so beautiful.

…Getting drenched in the rain, being aware of no one, just her.

…Everyone looking at her, but she aware, only of him.

…And the flowers that she brought for him along with her smiles.

Her presence could change the Boat Club where he was a regular – it looked different, just like everything in his world had started looking different. He kept rowing on that moonlit night unmindful of anything because she was with him. Afterwards, when she noticed his blisters she had tears in her eyes. When she took them in her hands and kissed those blisters, he felt his pain easing away. And he remembered how her lips felt on them, long after.

He discovered joys as they unwrapped like parcels, bit by bit and so teasingly.

Some moments, he felt were more poignant because of which they are special. They remain as sharp as ever, in memories despite the march of the years. They had the power to take him, in one fleeting instant, right there where it all happened – for him to feel the fragrance, the intensity of the sunshine, the texture of clothes, the details of grass on ground and the person he was with. And it wasn’t a coincidence that most of these poignant moments revolved around her. Every single detail seemed to come alive – to make him participate in that time travel, once again. Most other memories seemed to fade away, not these moments, because they are immortal and as sharp as ever. They lived forever, just like she wished to live forever.

“I wish to live forever!”

On their wedding night she repeated the words.

Though he had taken her a little more seriously this time, the promise of the impending moment distracted him, yet again.

They explored each others bodies and souls and felt complete oneness. And he forgot all about her strange wish.

 

———

 When they went to see the Taj on their honeymoon, he was awed by its beauty and the backdrop of romance in which stood the monument.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s a strange monument. I can feel a lingering sadness here. It’s because it is in the memory of a death.”

“But it’s in memory of love.”

“No. It’s predominantly a tragic love story, which is why I don’t find it exciting.”

“I find it beautiful-”

“Death makes me uncomfortable. Can’t it be conquered? I can never celebrate death. I wish to live forever, and be with you.”

And then he understood that she was speaking of immortality, physical immortality.

“Everyone has to die one day,” he said. “We are no exceptions.”

“I wish to be.”

“But I’m a writer, not a scientist. You married the wrong man.”

“Wrong? But you are imaginative! To overcome death, all you need is imagination.”

Her persistence made him a little uncomfortable.

“Promise me you’ll find a way. I’m afraid of death. Afraid of losing you. I don’t wish to die. I wish to live forever.”

“I can’t promise you something I may not accomplish,” he said. “And it’s because I love you, I can’t feed you with false promises.”

“That’s why you are my hope. But say you’ll try.”

“I will.”

And she had snuggled up to him.

———

Necrophobia, another name for the fear of death and fear of dead things, is the most common; this surprisingly common phobia causes countless people needless distress.

He read the words on his computer screen. It wasn’t unusual. Millions of people shared her fear. To him it meant fear of the inevitable. Where to begin the impossible search for an eternal life? He didn’t know that, what he knew was that he loved her.

From vampires to rituals to potions to cults, he read through the dark side of immortality. The beliefs and practices nauseated him. This wasn’t his way and he would not even try the route. So what else could he do?

He extended his search and spent more time on it.

———

 Years passed by, but he found nothing and the search became an obsession.

And once every year, on their wedding anniversary, she would remind him of his promise. So he would double up his efforts, spend all the time he had on his research.

He explored different places, met strange people who had insights to offer. But at the end of his quest, he didn’t have anything concrete.

———

 Every development in science made him happy. He felt on a surer ground here. Genome mapping, gene therapy, stem cells and RNA developments would make human beings immortal one day.

“One day, yes. But I may not live that long.” She would say whenever he would show her a clipping.

“Just another 10 years, you wait and see,” he would say. And file away the development in a thick book that had every tit-bit on aging, death and immortality.

———

 It turned out that her fears were based on an uncanny intuition. A bus hit her while she was walking through the rain, to meet him. She had been late.

“My fear was right…” She said.

He held her hand.

She tried to smile as she lay on her bed, surrounded by gadgets that were beeping nervously. She was in a lot of pain, despite the sedatives, her head bandaged. The brain surgery had failed.

“I’m going…”

“No! You’ll live. You can’t leave me like this…”

“There’s no hope. I know…”

“I-I failed…” He began to sob. And kissed her hands.

“Don’t feel bad. I know you tried. It’s impossible not to die. Hey look! I’m not afraid anymore?”

“Yes. I can see that…”

She looked so frail, so vulnerable at that moment. And he felt absolutely helpless, watching her edge out of existence. Every moment taking her to a distance he would never be able to catch up with.

“Smile. I wish to see you smile before I leave. Not like this…”

And then she closed her eyes.

———

 “She’s brain dead. Her heart is functioning but because of the severe head injuries she-”

“Any hope she’ll recover?”

“No. In scientific terms she’s dead.” The doctor said.

He grieved for her and a life without her. He grieved because he couldn’t find out a way to make her immortal.

“But I’m a writer. Not a scientist.”

“You are imaginative. To overcome death all you need is imagination.”

He remembered those words when they wheeled away her body.

To overcome death, you need imagination.

Something snapped in his mind as he remembered a cutting he had pasted in that thick file of his, the one with all the facts he had gathered on developments and facts on aging and immortality. Maybe there was a way out, still.

“Wait!” He stopped the ward boys.

———

He rushed to the doctor who had been in charge of her surgery. He was breathless when he reached his room.

“Doc-”

”Yes?”

He told him what he was thinking.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please. I would like to complete the formalities immediately.”

The doctor made some calls.

Within 20 minutes a team arrived and they carried her away.

———

 Two blind children had their eyes restored. A firefighter with 70 per cent burns survived because he received her skin. A woman with damaged kidneys survived after doctors had given up all hope. An engineer, an accident victim with damaged intestines, lived. A middle aged executive lived because he got a heart transplant – her heart. A girl with severely damaged lungs got life. And a youth got his pancreas just when his family had lost hope.

7 people lived, because they received organs and tissues from her, after her death.

———

 “No! Don’t.” He told his sister when she was about to garland her photograph.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t need those flowers because she isn’t dead. She lives in all those people she gave life to.”

“Oh!”

“And she’s immortal because even they have pledged to donate every usable part of their body after their death, to emulate her example.”

“You are right. She’s become immortal.”

Though she smiled, he could see tears in her eyes.

Maybe that is why you had more faith in me than a scientist!

He could feel her presence.

He would never be alone.

Because she would live forever!

Soul Fried Fish

It’s a Sunday afternoon. I am lying in the center of a large dining hall in a five star restaurant. I suddenly realize that I am warm, in spite of the air conditioning. Too warm. My insides are burning. Seems like my soul just got fried.

Let me try and be polite, like you five star people. I am John. I know it’s a common name. Could be yours, or yours, or yours perhaps? No? Well that’s odd, I never thought there won’t be a John in such a big gathering. But I guess, people are not named John out here in your country. I see you agree.

I get that you are interested in my story, since I am not from around here. You think I have a unique story to tell, from where I am? That my life would have been really different from yours seems interesting to you, doesn’t it? I really don’t think it is that different. We all take the same route in our lives, broadly speaking. It’s how we observe it, how we analyze it and how we internalize that defines us. That is what makes us different from each other, doesn’t it?

No, I hear you say. You still want to hear it? Well, I’ll tell you then. But let me warn you, you have heard it a thousand times before. You’ll all get up from your chairs at the end of it thinking “Oh, same old, John!” and I will remind again you at the end that I told ya.

I was born, like everyone has to be – to become everyone. Alright, alright I’ll swear, if that is what you all want. No more attempts at that sorta’ humor. As I was saying, I was really close to my parents back in the days and I remember how much they loved me. Among my earliest memories is with my parents at our home when my dad and mom would come home after a day of just loafing around with his friends. Yes, that’s true they didn’t work, like you guys now. There was no concept of working for ‘em. They just wandered around, enjoying the fruits of mother nature. Hippies, I hear you say. It wasn’t quite like that, I hope you’ll realize that as I tell you more. Try not to judge.

Which brings me to an interesting theory I have had for some time now. You people are very uncomfortable with not being able to understand or comprehend something. In your mind, as any information gets processed, your head starts throwing labels. You start attaching these labels as you collect more information. Think about your friends, your brother or sister, what comes to your mind. Adjectives, that define them? To you, everyone you’ve met is a collection of labels. For things that you understand, you try and break it down into components on which you can attach the labels. That is the only way you wrap your head around anything new. I am not saying, it is good or bad. I am just wondering if it is the only way? It does seem rather limiting, doesn’t it?

Coming back to my story. Growing up, I learned the same way of life. What to eat, how to survive. But I was always hungry. Always wanted more. My parents couldn’t understand my hunger. They tried to understand me. When they couldn’t they tried to counsel me. They were scared for me. Afraid that this unique trait in my personality, would land me in trouble. However, My need to do more than just hang around, eating the same food every day. Doing the same things over and over again. At one point I was convinced that there is more to life than just that. My parents’ inability to understand me made me Angry.

One day, while wondering about these thing, I wandered quite far away from home. That had become very usual for me. But this day was different. I saw around me and I saw the vegetation change. I found a new fruit – that’s what my parents called what we ate. I ate a stomach full. Imagine the sweetest, juiciest fruit you have ever had ever had. It was better than that. It was the first thing that I had tasted, that was different from the other things we ate. I carried as many as I could back home. My parents had never seen that fruit either, neither had my friends. They called it a Miracle.

I knew there was more. I knew it was not just a miracle. I had believed in it. I had believed that there was more, and it had materialized in our lives, enriching all of us. I became a dreamer that day. Always looking out for more. Where my friends and family were convinced that it was a rare miracle, to me it was just another brick in the wall. Just another Brick.

I started going further and further away from home each day in search of new fruits. I was exploring a lot, but I returned home empty handed each day. I was overwhelmed with a passion to discover more riches, and it became an obsession with me. As I returned home all worn out each day, I could see my neighbors looking at me and shacking their heads. They called me an Idiot.

And one day, just like that, my perseverance paid off. I found yet another new fruit. I was overjoyed, but this  time I kept it to myself. I did not share my discovery with anyone, because I believed they were not worthy of it. They had not shown the one thing that mattered the most to me then. The one thing I needed because I felt like I was doing something different. Trust.

I stumbled upon a lot of different varieties of fruits in the days that followed, not one of which I shared with them. I did not feel the need to prove to anyone that I was, in fact, much more Intelligent.

I just needed to go on and on and On.

“I am better than those Neanderthals.”

AMBITION. That is what got me here. Let me tell you the final part of the story so that you can see how it all fits together.

After having made several discoveries, as one would expect I was tired. And satisfied, mistake me not, with the progress I had managed. I was, I truly was. There was nothing more I really wanted. So one day I put up a grand exhibition of all my discoveries and invited everyone. They were all awed into shock. They tasted all the fruits, and loved all of them. It added color to their bland lives, some of them told me. They thanked me for having struggled so hard for the greater good. They said, I have taken the race forward.

I was filled with joy, as is predictable. But there was a nagging feeling in my head. If all the fruits were so great, I needed to find the most delicious of them all. Wasn’t that I started out in the first place? This is where my need became a greed. I left home that day, determined to find the best fruit there ever was.

After travelling for several days, I finally saw a single fruit hanging. There was nothing around it, no other fruits or vegetation. My eyes widened. I was convinced that this was the one. I hurried and reached the fruit. Circled around it and ascertained it was nothing like what I had seen before. It was only after I had been admiring it for quite some time, I saw there was something attached to it. A string.

I had to make a choice then. But my choice was made, even before I knew whether I would have to make it.   To hell with caution, said I as I went for the fruit. The string suddenly became taut and that was that. It pierced my cheek and I was pulled out of the water.

And that is how I am here today. And it is only today that I realized that I am no different from any of you. I am just another Soul Fried Fish.

Umm… Told ya?

Ambition is a dangerous recipe and it is overrated. It is important, but it is not what defines me. It is not what I make of myself, materialistically, that matters when I think about the end. It is a sum of the moments of joy that I have spent in this lifetime. The memories of all the places I have been and the people I have loved, each day more than I thought was possible. The strong emotions I have felt and recorded in my mind forever. These are the things I will miss leaving behind. To me, it is these little things that matter. And for that, ambition needs to be moderated with satisfaction. Today, I know, I am satisfied. And this post shall be a reminder of that.

http://www.activesearchresults.com/members/addlink.php

 

Expression Kills

I am not unknown for my conformity issues. This might seem like a desperate attempt to find another ‘Road Less Travelled’ and a contrived challenge to the accepted norms, but do try to look beyond finding fault in the writer and focus on the subject matter howsoever hard it may seem. Maybe it will open an eye you have shut wide thus far.

The ‘accepted norm’ in this case is the unflattering, uninhibited and to a large extent unconcealed attraction of the crowds, audience rather, towards the lead singer in a band. I have always felt for the drummer who sat behind his assortment or the synth player lurking deep in shadows for the entire duration of the performance stepping out for a sip of water in between songs or to take a collective bow at the end of the end of the show. All this while the lead singer and the guitarists take their numerous bows, yelling their countless ‘Thank you-s’. Even the bass guitarist has his moments during the course of the night – what with the archetypal demeanor and hairstyle (what’s with these guys? They seem like a common breed these days… certainly un-human-like!)

I have often thought that it is possible that guitar is a more charismatic instrument compared to its bretheren, but I have also since long discarded the idea. It can’t be. Even if it is, it is certainly no deal clincher the way it is made out to be on nights like the ones in discussion.

I have also been, ever since I have found myself to be one, an ardent supporter of the underdog. I did check whether it was a manifestation of that same sentiment that was at play when I felt for the less acknowledged and less loved members of the band. I have no better explanation than – my gut tells me it’s not that. I needed then to figure out what was it.

I went to a concert last night and attempted once more to get to the root of the dynamics of the elements at play during a performance, and yes, to try and have a good time too. As the night progressed, and yes, as I got more and more inebriated, I had a sudden clarity. It was expression, as the expression I hope would go, that kills.

There are those of us who are used to being the centre of attention and they love being there. For lack of a better way to put it, I feel they are maxed out. They are too exposed and reveal so much about them as they go along it is conceivable that there will be little in them that is not known by everyone. They’ll make their every thought, every action and every emotion very public. They have nothing in them left to themselves and they can’t cherish anything without sharing. All the elements that make a human being, for these people, are out in the public domain, open for scrutiny and judgment. They are yelling their lungs out and jumping around the jacks, like jacks for attention. For love.

Ignore the condescending tone, I really appreciate that hunger. The joy of getting that much by just being your natural self and uninhibited expression might actually be something tangible. But you have to embrace the downside of exposing your soul.

The band I had went to see perform had a sax player, who doubled up as a violinist and tripled up as a recorder player. The serenity and peace on his face, the inability to perform any antics lent him a glow that shone him more brightly than the movers and shakers of the band. At least to me he seemed to be wielding an aura of mystery that worked like magic. The enigma of his persona filled the room.

His music was soulful and I found myself waiting in eager anticipation of his solos. The music from his multiple instruments were pregnant with a charm that was characteristic of him. At the end of one of his solos, he opened his eyes only to wink at one of the girls standing in the front row, tuned into his music with rapt attention. That was the most dramatic act he dared that evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was his girlfriend or wife.

To me, hence, simplicity and the quiet fashion in which people go about their work holds a charm irresistible.

As they say – Expression Kills.

 

Pain

I have often thought and said that pain helps the spark of creativity in us and helps us cross the threshold that otherwise restricts us. I saw Rockstar yesterday and the question rose again. Is pain the only way to produce your best work, creativity wise?

I think it has to do with intense emotions. Any intense emotion, if channeled, can help a creator come up with an inspired creation. If we accept this hypothesis, then the next question comes – why are all our best works a product of a period of suffering?

There can be two reasons for that. I have personally felt that both of them go hand in hand.

First: Pain is the easiest emotion to channel. Compare it witb joy, excitement, success, love… all intense but happy emotions. These emotions have becone occassions to celebrate. And with the passage of time, we have learnt to take them in our stride. Shelf them. And aspire for more. There is no contentment with achievement of these emotions. Rather, they serve as a push to gun for more. Why stop now, when i can go another mile?

Pain stops us on our feet. Forces us to think and change the course that we have been moving along on merrily thus far. It is often this stimulus that guides the work of creativity. It becomes easy to give up all the other things that might be going on and focus on just one thing that really matters. Which is the creation of a creator. This singlemindedness propels the work of art to a personal genius. It comes from the deepest part in us, comes from our soul.

Second: when nothing else matters, the sense of fear on being judged for the work goes away. The creator stops caring for the opinions of the world. This goes hand in hand with the first point to help create the singlemindedness of utmost devotion to the work at hand.

The work, thus created, is undoubtedly the best you’ll ever do. And a creator longs for pain. Masochism, is a common trait in all creative people… for the love of art, they’ll suffer. Because that is the most important thing in theit lives.

I am sure my thoughts on this are not exhaustive. I welcome any comments or suggestions on this. Would like to understand it better myself.

THE ANT WHO TAUGHT ME A LESSON

Yesterday I saw a huge ant. It looked menacing and I didn't know what to do. It was near my computer and I knew if I ignore it, it would bite me, my daughter or my wife one day.Or bring more of its companions. Which was even more dangerous. It was conveniently near a hammer.

I respect life. But "Something as menacing as this can't be ignored," was the logic that prevailed.

So I picked the hammer and killed it. And made me guilty, immediately.

Something was wrong and it forced me to introspect.

That ant was a complex life form. So complex that no human being could create it.

Then did I have a right to take away its life?

And then dawned an understanding of what was wrong.

I could have picked a paper, scooped it and left it outside, in the open in an environment that was friendlier to that ant.

I would have removed the passive threat from my home and let it live.

I resolved I will do this for all life forms in the future.

And the analogy extends to human beings too.

Some people trouble us and our first reaction is to hit them with a hammer (our retorts, anger etc.) But each individual is complex and varied, adding to the diversity of human beings that has helped us come this far. Each individual has exceptional qualities not found in any.

The ant is a scavenger and is among the many animals necessary for a human being's survival. 

Similarly, irritants like the colleague or next door neighbor who trouble us are important in creation. 

Otherwise they wouldn't have been here among us. They all have something to teach us. Lessons we have to learn and master.

If we are not aligned to the views of these irritants, it's best we scoop them out of our lives, mentally. We can't set them free, but we do, ourselves. We get liberated.

The life of that ant didn't go waste. I will ensure it won't.