Born Again!!!

The man opened his eyes. Wrapped in bandage from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet, just sparing his face. Eyeballs to the left, eyeballs to the right. With a face as solemn as a baked potato, he asked a question that has intrigued the common man and the philosopher alike, “Who am I...where have I come from?”

And the rest of the story is as funny or as sore as you can imagine.

But think about it. What would happen if we could have a representation of the choicest, most savvy companies in the news business, interview a candidate most likely to know the answer to those questions. A new born!

I have an idea. Am gonna write to you as one talks to one’s reflection. Man to man. A brief story of birth. Beyond boundaries, beyond thoughts and views, beyond imaginations, beyond famous and infamous isms, beyond popular beliefs, beyond the idea of ‘you’ and beyond the idea of ‘me’.

Just stuff, from my psyche and neurons to your psyche and neurons. 

If the idea feels weird, kindly don’t read further. Eyes open, thoughts dubious, fingers fast, close this tab in the browser. Here we go!!

Curtains lifted, ample dramatic light thrown in.....

Reporter 1: We hear, you have just landed here, how was the travel?

NB (Newborn): Mmmm, not bad, although I’ve heard of other traumatic stories. My host was quite healthy and active and was aware of the procedures and cooperated my exit.

Rep2: How were things in that world where you come from?

NB: Ah! I already miss that world and I made that amply clear by bursting into a cry, didn’t I? (Chuckles)

Rep1: Any fond memories?

NB: (Dreamy eyes) Life as such was easy ya! As if everything around was prepared for me to come alive, everything around was wired to provide. The planning, I must tell you, was extraordinary. I had everything I needed at a finger’s distance. And look at me now, racking my brain for answers to your questions! (grin)

Rep2: Haha, we see the antenna of sarcasm growing. Congratulations! You will need that plenty here. Now, tell us about the entry to that space?

NB: Well, strangely, no memories at all. 'Twas a moment and I was just there. That’s exactly what I remember.

Rep1: What do you mean? You must have come via some passage right? Haven’t you heard of the popular isms?

NB: (Frowning) Eh?

Rep3: (with a lip smacking snigger) Well, I am the specialist here, lemme speak mates. You see NB, it’s very tough to "un-understand". In this world, when you have something that you can’t quite wrap your head around, you put an abstract layer on top of it. Its called an ism or whatever you want to call it.

NB: So, what am I abstracted to?

Rep3: (rolling his tongue) Lemme see, lemme see. For a starter, a name? See, a name will represent you and the whole world will know you by that name but then does your name mean your flesh and blood? Nay. It’s just like your reflection in the mirror. That’s the beauty of the idea! You got it NB?

NB: I might have. Well, this isn’t quite the case in the world I come from. Things were called exactly what they are!

Rep1: Name one for us, a worthy example?

NB: (squinting eyes) Ten thousand thundering typhoons! I can’t remember it now! But this I know that I used to summon things by name to provide for me and we all had jolly good conversations every day!

Rep2: Now, friends, we have grossly diverted from the agenda. Kindly elaborate your entry to that world NB.

NB: All I remember was that once there was a nothing.  I don’t remember anything about this space. And, then at once, there was a spark in that nothing. And a world rushed out in that nothing, in search of another world. The destined world perhaps. And then out of nowhere, the two worlds collided. With such momentum, with such a brutal force that they no more remained those individual worlds. They were dead and a third world came alive. That was me.

Rep3: Fantastic! Spill it, tell me more!! What was this ‘nothing’ like? Was it like a station where people waited? Or was it like a river? Did you see people crossing the river? Aha! It might be like concentric circles, with people moving from one circle to another circle based on their merit?

NB: Whoa! Some imagination dude! Where did you get these stories from?

Rep2: (Coughing) Well, these aren’t stories NB, these are the isms, Rep3 was earlier talking about. But you seem immature to grasp the lofty idea.

NB: All I am saying is, I don’t know jack-shit about the blah you are asking me.

Rep1: (Excited) So, are you saying that said the ‘nothing’ is actually nothing? Please confirm this breaking news!

NB: (Angry) No, I chose to say ‘nothing’ because I remember absolutely nothing about it now. Maybe I would have had if I hadn't accepted your invite to have this ridiculous conversation!!!

Rep1: So, my friend, evidently, you are at your wit's end. Now, you must submit to either of these two options. Either you describe what the ‘nothing’ was or choose one of the isms.

NB: I see. (Pondering) What are my options on the isms? What if I don't choose at all?

Rep3: Well, there are some major categories. There is “Everything is bullshit, so everything is organic” group, you automatically subscribe to this one if you don't choose. Then, there's the “I suffer I achieve” group, the “All is suffering, so imagine there is no suffering” group, “You suffer I achieve” group and a “Someone has suffered, so we achieve” group.

NB: Why is suffering the main theme? And the last one is horrendous isn’t it?

Rep3: Welcome! We love to suffer over here, actually quite enjoy the activity. After all it’s all about the concept of reward and punishment you see.  And yeah, the last group, it’s generally for the losers of the world, people who have pretty much declared, “I cannot do it on my own”.

NB: One sec, who helps these losers? And what reward and punishment? What about life? Where is life?

Rep3: It’s kinda confidential, you see, the Geuters agency might have the coordinates of this ‘help’.

Rep2: (almost interrupting Rep3) Whoa! Wait..what life? This is life.

NB: (sighing heavily) Man! I miss the feeling of being born. I thought I’d have a fulfilling and good life!

Rep3: What good life? Everything is relative. (Suddenly recalling something) Although, I think, I have heard about this before. This freaking 'abundant life' stuff. Marketing tactics I say.

NB: But what if it’s true? Try to feel as if you are a new born, you would feel the nudge of that abundant life! I had felt it when I was born!

Rep1: (sulking) You can’t feel an act like this one, it’s not as easy as virtual intercourse.

NB: Then try a hand at being born. Again!!

Rep3: (sarcastic grin) Yeah right! Please enlighten me, how’s that possible?

NB: Well, of what I know, the two worlds that made me, desired my birth and finally I came alive! So, whatever you want to be born for, you just desire it and it comes alive! The breeze blows where it wishes, have you ever seen it? You can just feel it. Such is this desire!

Rep2: Whatever I want to be 'born for' or 'born as'?

NB: How does it matter? What you desire becomes what you are born as. But that is also exactly what you are born for!!

And the rest of the story is as inspiring or as meaningless as you can imagine.

So, the curtains of thoughts were pulled down and the lights of the words turned down. Just a soothing breeze remained, with the echoes of the words like amber fireflies in the dark, on the periphery of the story. 

Down the lane

And the car swooped down, hiccups on a bump but that didn't stop our laughter. 

The taxi uncle and me were on the most funny part of the story. Now, that's how things work in India, you find a relation with pretty much everybody around and very rarely call someone by just their names. So, the man selling yumms snack becomes bhaiya(brother) and the taxi driver your chacha(uncle).

As we sped up and passed the silent haunted line of constructions, he narrated the story of how he fell in love with a girl, maybe some 40 odd years back.

"Goon fights, exodus from the villages around, skyscrapers, Kolkata was just steering towards the modern day Kolkata. And tired and jaded would I come back to my stay in the evening and these two sisters in the neighbourhood would come and chat with us. The chats led to going to movies and movies begat a wedding!",he said with a sigh of what seemed like a half satisfied expression. 

"I think I didn't wanna marry her though but now that I am married to her all these years, I think, चलो इतनी खराब भी नहीं है, ठीक ठाक ही है (meaning, she's not that bad, she's just about alright). And we both chuckled, he in relief and myself at the nasty me. 'Twas me who had requested for an adventurous story and when I had said रोमांच (pronounced 'romanch' meaning adventure), he had heard 'romance'.

He mused, "Once I hadn't seen my family for 15 years, I had almost forgotten their faces. And you never quite understand who is actually closer to you. For when you go home, you'd forget the city and when you return to the city, you'd forget the silly faces in the village. Such is life!"

One of the pros of returning to your memories, in my case today, to scribbles from a decade back, is finding stuff that you almost discover as if it was someone else's life. There's a good thing about creation though, it's applicability each time is new! Like water, you put it in a container and it takes the shape of the container. I don't have an iota of a memory of why I wrote this but it does feel pretty recent and it's good to trade a house of bricks for a house of words, at least for a few minutes in a day, even if the words were borrowed from the past :)

Am ditching English monoglot readers next since the Hindi/Urdu words are written in Devanagari script for its own reason and as much as I'd like to translate this, I haven't had the time or the apt words yet. Maybe soon though! 

मन के मनके

मन की  कौन  सुने 

जो  मन  शिकायत करता  है 

दो  चम्मच  बातों  से  बोझल 

मन की ही आयत  से डरता  है

गलियों  में  दीवारें  हैं 

ऊंची सी और  नीची  सी भी 

और  तानो  बानो  में जड़कर 

मन, मन ही में मरता  है

कोई  सुराग हो , कोई हो छेद

रौशनी  की एक किरण भी मिले 

कोई चिराग  हो बुझता  हुआ सा 

दूर हों सारे  शिक़वे  गीले 

हाथ  फैलाकर कभी  

न  माँगा  है आसमान , न ज़मीन

के हाथों के लकीरों  से खैंचकर

कहाँ तोड़े  जाते  हैं कीले

बारी बारी से न भुलाये  सोच 

मुठ्ठी  में समेटे  जाते नहीं 

चंद ज़ख्मों की कहानी  भी भला 

भुलाये  भूल  पाते हैं कहीं?

बस धूल पर पढ़े  रहते  हैं झूठ

और सादे आँखों में दिखता है

के, मन का सच है मन ही में

मन  ही  में यहीं 

Reflections on Tarsar

Gar firdaus ruhe zamin asto
Hamin asto, Hamin asto, Hamin ast.
Now, that's what King Jahangir had spelled out, in awe of Kashmir, calling it the heaven on earth,when he had set his eyes on the valley for the first time.
Between then and now, countless people have fallen flat on face or head over heels in love with the valley. But I'll tell you the truth. Honestly, in a way it feels very similar, if not the same, like any other hill station for that matter! It's just that the people there, with their shy faces and peaceful eyes are very warm and loving. And on a good day, with your predispositions shoved out of your head, it takes approx. 2.67529 minutes to fall in love with any Kashmiri. And voila! No matter where you are from, you feel at home!

It was about two weeks before the Tarsar Marsar trek (https://indiahikes.com/tarsar-marsar/)that I told my folks that I am all set to travel to Kashmir for a week to trek with my buddies, so I could wile myself into the real world. Absolutely no kicks, no drama, nature and us and dollops of serenity mixed with merely moderate drops of adrenaline. That is it. 

The trip to the then curfew torn Kashmir turned out to be more, so much more than that now it almost seems like a staged play in Technicolor! Received so much more, lived so much more, learnt so much more than what I thought I knew about Kashmir.

 

In a span of 7 days and between the distance of about 224 kilometers between Srinagar and Aru (our base camp) and back to Srinagar, there was this land, where you could open the windows to the tall alpine forests, distant clouds, colorful houses hidden in the greens and the occasional laughter of children playing on the street and literally giggle away in childlike awe. 

You start your ascent for the trek and amidst picture perfect frames of horses grazing by a milky white stream gushing down, green meadows, frequent bright and beautiful flowers, occasional bright and beautiful smiles and howdy, misty lakes, starry camp nights, warm conversations and tearjerker dessert servings (I have a huge sweet tooth and that's what you feel like looking at Gulab Jamun in a campsite at 12000 odd ft), you reach this place by the middle of the journey. And your thoughts plainly refuse to operate in the “Real World” mode. You almost feel like a fossil as if you had belonged there, been there forever.

I checked the coordinates of the place, guess what, they were indeed the coordinates of the real world! 

Well, ignore the "similar hill station" part earlier on though. That was a bummer downplaying, trying to save her heart.
My kinda amateurish words come from the corner of heart where miles away from the debates of peace and war, of what's heaven and who's turning it into a hell, you just feel blissfully at home.
Thanks IndiaHikes!



Reflections on Tarsar

The sun is a generous king today
Rays of gold glorious gleam
Searching the meadows and hills alike
Glittering lakes to the brim.

Thoughts pull in and thoughts pull out
Out on the deserted roads, slogans aloud
Waters in the distance, waters in the far
Shores calling the waters, shores calling the stars.

Sheep and rocks weave a trail
Strolling by the horseman's song
As hasty clouds roll over the sky
Shades of blue shove along.

Distant laughter fades away
With the fading sight of vibrant scarves
Oblivious of the blood in the valley
Miles away from anxious hearts

And then, circles of gold beneath the waters
Appear like a magic world beyond
Blue waters swayed by the breeze
Swooned by mountains, devoid of bounds.

Bound as they are, as yet unbound
The waters of Tarsar are your fancies in fleet
As far as your eyes can see
And as far as your soul can seek.

And thoughts pull in and thoughts pull out
Like his caresses, like her pout
Waters in the distance, waters in the far
Waters as close to you as you are.

Striptease to amygdalae

What is the best inspiration ever? Something that makes you want what you experience through your senses so much that you take a plunge and never feel like turning back from the road!
By definition, any kind of addiction would seem to fit the bill!
To some the sight of bare flesh might be as appealing as the sight of a magnificent flower unfolding it's multicoloured petals.
Striptease does to senses what nature does to amygdalae.

If you are in search of a titillating content, sorry pal, ain't your page!
But wait, I think a context is required. Even for a visual stimulation, one has to know the meaning of what's happening(as in, the baring of the flesh or the unfolding of the petals), otherwise, it doesn't make sense.
Apart from that, a part of you has to covet it as well, only then can you appreciate it. Or maybe vice versa, you have to appreciate it to covet it! But then to appreciate it, you must have some traces of it inside you.
After all, like inspires like. And the more likeness you have with something, the more will it continue to inspire you, even unconsciously.

Stop.
Fix your frame. Frame of thought.
Inspiration isn't just a free flowing river of thoughts, there are nuggets of moments of inspiration too!
There are these moments that stick to you brain and appear like a flash of lightning.
You remember some and you laugh aloud alone.
You remember some and you are pained.
But mostly, when you remember some of those bygone days, it's good memories...
You feel closer to the people than you had ever felt in their proximity.
It's funny how it feels like, as if it was another you..and another time..and they were but another's acquaintances or someone else's friends. As if, you become merely a witness to all the rigmarole!
And you keep on building, building these quasi universes.
Maybe, if need be, you could jump right into a conversation in the past. You could calibrate to the exact right moment to appear right at the moment the joke was cracked!
Now, have you ever split into a roar of laughter with your friends remembering the exact same sequence of funny things/events as they occurred?
Nay, it's not time travel, it has a word in the physical world as it exists - collective memory. It's the stuff that links each one of us to the other, even centuries apart.
Because we make memories together, not only as friends or families but also as a race and as a species.

There's a lot said over the board about collectivism though, as if collective action of any kind, conscious (like a social revolution) or unconscious (like collective memory) was always supposed to be put down. Historically.
Even now, there's such a hue and cry on 'herd' mentality that some people are trying to invent a new way to breathe through either their kidneys or liver instead of lungs because c'mon..breathing through lungs is too generic!

Well, thousands of skilled workers produce special machines for specific kind of work. Thousands of revolutionaries push to bring truth and justice forward.
Each and every piece in the puzzle is unique but only together they make a puzzle.
A social revolution or industrial revolution makes sense only after the fact. Because, you can't make sense of a revolution by individual standalone protests or activities or inventions. The mayhem makes sense only collectively.

What's our best inspiration ever? It's us!
We are so much like each other that we can inspire nations to fight against its own citizens, because we think we had not been treated right.
We are so much like each other that we can inspire billions throughout the world to help someone a second mile when requested to help with just one, because we think we are all worth it.
After all, like inspires like, alike to the road of lostness or to the alley of salvation.

In search of a fountain....

                                                   

There's a big blue fountain on the other side of the village where by the side of a good old oak tree, under a thatched roof and brown doored hut, lives a breathing story. Well, somethings are better imagined than seen physically. Like a breathing story or a dragon with a pigeon's head or a big blue fountain springing right from the centre of your heart!! Come touch the waters...









I remember him. The callously intelligent architect with a riotous orange mane, as distinct as his construction designs. 

With Howard Roark, Ayn Rand established the rise of man and his capabilities well in the popular work of fiction, The Fountainhead. 

Nay, this post is neither to discover the meat of the book nor to explore the brain muscles of the writer. I rather intend to explore an open heart surgery. Don't freak out ya, it's just a humble attempt to hypothesise the possibilities of a Fountain Heart!

The fountain head sprang up with ideas regardless of the exploitations, malpractices and constant leeching around. 

Can a heart spring up with generosity and empathy despite of the constant rudeness and manipulation around? Can it spring up to goodwill and courage regardless of the cowardice around that's indicative of normalcy and sane logic in our world?Can it stick to its courage without beating it's chest in declaration of its own? 

What inspires a fountain though? Strength? Wealth? Knowledge?Potential?

The natural fountains indeed spring up from the seemingly unending potential of water. Or so I recollect from the distant memories of torturous geography lessons(torturous because our geography teacher, apparently was of the opinion that drinking water in the class hampers a pupil's focus, outright strange right?!!). 

But you ain't call it a fountain if the water doesn't gush out from the source with all it's strength, else you merely call it a stream.

Lost? Lemme shriek in my very own Indian tone, "No no no (kindly note that repetition of agreement/disagreement is as important as the morning release to us Indians!!), we are certainly not digressing into a geography lesson! Please keep your calm."

But strength being relative, how do you conclude that something or someone is stronger than whatever?There must be a degree or grade of this strength that increases or decreases from time to time, thus making a fountain either strong or weak or stream!

Now, the perennial fountain must have its source deep down, much beneath the surface. So, apparently, the more one has the ability to rise up,the more will he know what it will take to reach the other side and stoop down.  

The more vulnerable someone is, the more power will he know. 

And only the gentle will ever know the true meaning of strength!

Well, knowing and exercising that knowledge, is separated only by right moments and courage.

'Tis quite funny how it seems like an idea very absurd and contradictory to what we usually see in and know of ordinary circumstances. But there are exceptions. 

And what an absolute delight it's to find a fountain heart around in a place where people resembling fuming Godzillas are considered to be strong!!

You are awestruck by their gentleness when you know their strength.

You are humbled by their striving to spill good beans, when you know their authority.

And most certainly, you know it when you meet one.

A fountain heart. Have you spotted one till now? Well, I've been lucky enough to find a couple of them in corners I had never expected!!

Where the mind is without fear...

You have guessed right, indeed it's a line from Tagore's famous poem but it's not a good time to discuss poems or prose or anything for that matter.
You see, there's a lump in my throat, ah well, possibly it's your throat too..is it sushi?maybe a piece of steak..aha!a lump of curry rice maybe! Or is it fear??
Well, fear has many flavours to enjoy and the most exquisite one is the fear of not having any fear! Have you gulped any yet? Awww poor thing..here..have some water....



The corner or the back seats of public transports usually have the same band of occupants. One would think the government allocates those seats for these special type of people, who the rest of the public identifies as miscreants.
Apparently, if you don't reek of booze or marijuana or something that smells 'unsocially' funny (read: savouries from an exotic geography), you are legally not a back seat material.

I had once, no actually twice, had travelled with my girlfriends chatting away on the last seats of a bus. When people saw three girls laughing and busy in their own world, something they couldn't care less about, I had noticed kids and the elderly came and sat next to us. This, I had noticed otherwise, wasn't the case very often. People somehow avoided back seats.

The stare, however, was universal. Now, one ought to know that, it's a very healthy and normal 'gosh!again some idiots at the back' stare. Which then, in a moment, turns into a 'but these folks kinda look and sound normal' frown and then ends in a 'well, none of my business anyways' sigh! Which is why, rather exclaimed by the rainbow of expressions we raised, people somehow lost the further interest of investing time to pick a comfy and 'safe' seat and didn't mind to take a sit next to us.
Well, that was my conclusion, however judgmental you call me.

A very funny thing happened to me though when I realized that I myself had avoided those seats many a times. What was I trying to avoid? Those fellas at the back or the stares in the eyes of the riders who'd think I'm one of the fellas??
As one thought led to another, you bet daydreaming wasn't very far off from where I had started. And yes, don't snap yet! Some people still daydream as if they are dreaming.
As the curtains of the dream were raised, it was a giant anthill and several ants were running to and fro with bits in their mouths. And then, there was this one ant who was tired pulling a cube of sugar uphill and suddenly looked up to see another ant on the opposite side, shrieked and shouted and ran for its life!!!
Now, if you have been observant as a child, you might have noticed ants running in a line, meeting, stopping and greeting the other and then pass by. None of the ants seemed alarmed seeing another ant.
I squinted my eyes and tried to remember if I'd ever seen an insect driving an insect away, or a pig thrashing a pig or a dog killing another dog??Maybe in one of those National Geographic special episodes, eh?
Well, maybe yes. But it certainly didn't feel that common as is among the Homo Sapiens.
Would I fear another bee's sting if I was one? Or would I not walk on the streets freely fearing another cat's paws if I was one? Even better, would I steal and eat another polar bear's fish if I was one and fully fed?
"Kreeeek",said the tyres of the bus. We had reached our destination. Its quite a nice place you know...spend a few hours in the shopping malls and you'd quite confidently convince yourself to believe that you are living in a free yet peaceful society! Blessed are the 'piece makers'..oopsy my bad...peacemakers!!!

Too drab or not too drab...

Dull and uninteresting...tedious...
Nay, not you..not even me and I hope this read isn't as well!
That's the Webster meaning of a very interesting word by the way- "Boring".
I dunno how exactly you picture "boring" in your head. Well, I have technicolored samples of various flavours of boredom that range from unending sagas of television series to a specific class I used to attend at college. Unfortunately, regardless of anything, my wakefulness was only indirectly proportional to the diameter of the pupils of the eyes of the professor!

And so to speak, for many, it might be quite a boring job to find a source of entertainment. What's entertainment and why is it such a big deal for 'thinking' beings? Well, that might be a wrong statement. It might be real boring to chew grass all day long and all grazing animals might be bearing the heaviness quietly by chewing some more!

Exploring another aspect of entertainment, you'd think, how many ways can one actually explore entertainment? Does it depend only on the senses? Well, how are then people entertained just by thinking about something or someone?
So, you probably couldn't box entertainment or enter the mode of entertainment only at certain hours in the day!
What a sore pain would then one have, knowing that all the while, what one was categorising as mundane or chore was actually entertainment and that box of entertainment was actually the painfully 'worked out work'!
How do you then recognise and catch your bit of entertainment before it runs away like a chicken in run?

In case you are still seriously focussing on this read and trying to compare mental notes on the entertainment in your life, congratulations!!
You have reached the 'Beeping Red . Boredom Comatose' stage!!!
Wait up, before we reach the 'Pathetic stage', have you noticed there are premium, non premium and base categories of entertainment as well?
There's rich mans's share and there's poor man's share of entertainment.
Why, there's peer pressures associated too and you might need to explain if you don't subscribe or don't relish certain entertainment.
But then, there are these things too that you enjoy for reasons you don't even know.
That brings the question, can one learn to be entertained? Isn't taste of entertainment as personal as the individual?

Ahem...if that's the case, it just doesn't make sense how trends of entertainment emerge. And how sometimes we don't explore our individual tastes of entertainment and follow a routine even for entertainment like the rest of the routine life.
Well, to each his own..good marketing or good fooling around or good entertainment!

On the shores...

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
                               -Khalil Gibran

Ahem...are you feeling solemn already? But wait! Reading philosophical poetry doesn't steal from us the pleasure and right of blabbing solemnly! So, here goes...sense or new sense you decide!


A friend of mine once went to work in a city where she didn't rather couldn't pick up the local language at all. Not one bit. So, in public transports her ears were automatically set to 'Noise' mode. She didn't register much. After a few months when she was home on a vacation, she recollected a funny thing. It took a good couple of seconds for her ears to register that she could now understand the chatter around!
As funny as it sounds, this is practised even in normal circumstances that are in no way similar to what my friend had experienced.
People choose to listen or choose not to, just like they choose to speak or they don't.
Even when they can.

Now see, that's not similar to any other thing we do. Eating, smelling, seeing,feeling, sleeping even dreaming is not always fully driven by our choice. Which means out of all these things that we can 'do', talking can be most tastefully faked! You can never judge if a person is really eating or faking it. The intake ultimately reaches his stomach.
Even when a person tries to fake a feeling, he ends up feeling something else. Maybe disgust, maybe disinterest. Nonetheless, there's never an absence of a feeling.

Added to the already existing confusion, the cherry on the cake is that the society deduces a person by how they talk. One is allocated in one or many of the various groups of class, knowledge, personality, strength, capability by the way one speaks, by the content one chooses to spill out of one's mouth. Not necessarily from the heart.
On the other side of the coin, strangely though, you'd find that the most amusing conversations are possibly made with people who barely open their mouth! And a chatterbox might have a dearth of amusing or worthwhile things to say constantly and consistently. Quite a pressure.
As a thoroughly frustrated and vexed soul once complained about the spouse and telecom vendors citing the unwelcome pressures in life, for how can one have increased content in conversations with increasing 'free talk minutes' on your mobile phone!

Well, why do we talk? Maybe the right question is, why do we want to listen or pretend to listen! Maybe it's like waves, waves of words, hitting our eardrums and the shores of our understanding at the same time. Or maybe not.
The waves won't hit the shores if they aren't called to the shores. Meaning, one listens only what one waits to listen. And when the waves are not called, it's indeed just winds that hit the shores. Meaning, one gets to hear constant blab when one doesn't particularly want to listen to anything.
I wonder, if that's what the original origin of the word 'windbag' is!

Are you feeling kinda clueless at this juncture of the post?Whoa! Wait a second..are you trying to reach a possible conclusion after all this talk?
Sorry pal, 'twas a monologue! I was just thinking loud..very very loud...listening to myself on the shores of my understanding!
In case your head is now beeping alarmingly, "what nonsense!!", there's a possible remedy. Well, if you want to, you can always stroll on the shores for a bit while I talk to myself! What say?

.
..
...
....
.....
......

Well, speak up, am still listening :-)

Once upon a life...

You see the whole country of the system is juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere because you are a sophisticated rhetorician intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity.
There there, this ain't me, for all you know, that is Anthony Gonsalves! And the over complicated verbose is in prep for the utterly juvenile fantasy ride ahead! Now, what do you prefer with your ride? A magic wand? Ironman's arc reactor? A rabbit hole? Here we go!


Once there was a sapling, tender and young, bursting out of the shells of a seed, hiding way below the layers of the soil. "Ugh, what a pushing nudge it was!", the tiny leaf said breathing heavily in the spring air, squinting a bit, almost blinded by the light around.
"Disgusting lazy bum", said an irritated voice just below the leaf.
"Eh?Who's that?", squeaked the leaf.
"It's me, shoot! Can't you see I'm holding you, moron!", said the tiny shoot bending to face the leaf at an angle."Ever since there was an announcement about your arrival and we'd seen no sign of you whatsoever, I knew all this rigorous planning will just go to waste. Now, if you've got some time, your majesty, can you please prepare some food, our food stock is almost depleted and I can't feed you anymore."
"A for 1, I won't take that bossy tone, ya know, I ain't anybody's slave here. I am an independent leaf", the leaf barked.
"Awww, you are cuter than I had imagined!",a voice chuckled from further down,"An independent leaf is a dead leaf pal!"
"Freakin maniacs just killing me!", exclaimed the leaf,"will ya'll just let me enjoy the nice surrounding a bit?Who's this now?"
"Look dear, I am the root, I pretty much know all about you grim-face but I can't agree with shoot more that if you still continue with your merry go round blab, we ain't gonna survive longer."
The leaf, turning its face looked around and said solemnly, "As much educated you are in the dealings of this world, so am I. There seem to be many others around, I'd like to hear other versions of the story and validate your version before I take a plunge of faith and start my factories to generate food for you. How do I know you'd deal with my resources righteously? And how do I know that I'd secure myself a pension after I'd toiled day in and day out for your sake?"
The shoot and the root as furious as they were, didn't find another answer to retort back.

So, the leaf heard from the Federation of the Extraordinary Pines, the Republic of Ancient Banyans, the Conglomeration of the Magnificent Palms,why even from the Association of the United Cactus!
But behold, every one had a different version of the story! The leaf was utterly confused and disappointed.
Each story was distinct, although they had great resemblances but every kind of leaf was different. In some occasions, others have even usurped the leaves' factories for the food making business for themselves, like in the cactus, the shoot owned the factories!!
"Preposterous!!", the leaf thought, "I will never let this happen to me. No one's ever taking away my estates, my freedom, my life, my green, my love..."
As the leaf gasped in the excitement of this new found strength, a weak voice trembled from below,"Are you back from your thoughts yet? I think am gonna give up now, I don't have anymore strength to..", and the shoot collapsed on the soil.
With its face on the dry soil, the now brown leaf was completely exasperated, "this is unthinkable, a hugely staged conspiracy! I must turn around at once! I..I..", and it collapsed too.

"Zwooop", sounded a droplet on the leaf. There was a humming voice seemingly distant but it grew near, as if just beside it, the leaf thought. It was Mother Earth, singing just before the rain. And swooping  the rains arrived!

After a long time, as the leaf opened its eyes to the warm sunlight, feeling a rush of the stream in its veins, it remembered from the half dream all it heard when the Mother Earth sang before the rains.
It was how she is soaked with the love of the rains and how the root finds that love and draws it in. And how the shoot drinks the love from the root and then streams that love in the leaf and then the leaf in turn calls the rains!! That was the most swelling part of the song!
But even sweller than that was the fact that in the beginning of it all, the seed agreed to go deep into the pits of soil and decided to die, to become a sapling first and then a tree full of seeds!!And that's what happens for every kind of tree on the earth, no matter how different their story seems! It all made sense now.
Sacrifice. And a new birth is always about that. It's not the only way, it's so because it's the most full proof way to ensure the new birth.

And yet, on a gloomy evening, when a man carried a tree on his shoulders, walking towards a hill to knowingly die a brutal death for love, it didn't make sense coz every one wants to live.
And when that man dripped every single drop of his blood and before breathing his last, shouted, "It is finished!", it didn't make sense coz no one knew of the journey he had begun.

Distances...

Boooom! Thud%#$£€< Grrrrrrrr....brrrzzzzshhh!
Well, am not up to something creepy or even aesthetically disgusting this time.
This time around, I am inviting your ears along with your eyes in the short hop of this blog space we are in.

Most of you would have literally heard the sounds of the words spelt as you read them.
It's amazing how we invent sounds and random words that mean physical things. Abstraction almost at its best! Mere words trying to describe what an actual thing is like! How else would you know that parting your lips and flashing all your 32 teeth actually is a gesture that is deemed cordial and is called laughing?
Or pointing your eyebrows, rolling your eyes and shifting your gaze actually is a gesture indicating disgust?
You wouldn't. The world is a strange place and when a friend says to another friend,"You know you're such an idiot ya!!", he knows his friend meant love! The trusting eyes and caring tone override the words!
Why is that no matter how much we try to express using even the best words possible, we are unable to express the most sublime of our feelings. Speak of Tower of Babel!
Feelings of overwhelming joy, soul baring grief, all consuming love or even life shattering pain find the best expressions in either a shriek,a sigh,an embrace or a cry.
Try saying this to a ghost,"Yo dude, I am super freaked out! This is in expression of my fear, hope you understand..like I'm really shit scared ya!!"

On the other hand, what if you had a world that didn't differentiate between expressions; disdaining looks, humiliating tones, rude gazes, confident eyebrows and friendly grins won't mean anything.
Or maybe would mean just the opposite! How about if a man beats his wife up violently and says,"Darlin, this is how much I love you!!" Sounds nonsensical, doesn't it?

 Well, if it's all universal, this can mean just one thing. Most of us, knowingly or unknowingly actually talk to each other's beings. The sense of hearing, ability to speak are all additional features to the actual communication and no the actual language is not even body language. Body language like any other language can be learnt whereas being a person comes from being that person.

Being in a place is probably a similar experience. If all external experiences with others take us to the territories of others' beings; internal experiences, where we internalise things within ourselves must take us to a place within our own being. It's like Global Positioning System in your own heart and soul!
When you arrive at a breathtakingly beautiful place, you actually reach the coordinates in your heart that appreciates that beauty.
You pass by an alley with loads of good childhood memories, you've reached the coordinates that throbs of the nostalgia.
You walk into a place of worship, you walk into the space of your heart that defines the temple, abode of the supernatural!
You experience a lot of hatred and discrimination, I guess, you just stop by a makeshift corner. Maybe the coordinates of processing negativity readily don't exist.
We don't go places, we just go wandering into our own souls.

There must be so many experiences to travel to, so much ground to cover with people around you! Sadly, we are brainwashed to notice the differences first and not the similarities. It's always us and them.
Deserts and mountains and plains are very different to each other but the individuality in their textures however don't steal the fact that they are all land masses upon water. They are all earth! Sadly, the distances and differences between hearts are longer than geographies but you know, at times, hopscotches prove better than an airbus!!

The music is on....

What do you make of these lines...
"You build me up, you break me down, my hearts pound, you have got me"
Okay, what about these....
"I want to touch you, I want to see your face, I want to know you more.."

If you think I'm gonna spill secrets on adverts to compare sleazy song lyrics to help you earn 500 pounds every day at home, you've landed on a sour opportunity. Sorry mate. Could have given that advice away if you could run errands for me at least 6 months straight.
Anyways,on a funnier note, the first song is a popular teenage party number while the second one is actually a conventional worship song. Well, the resemblance in the flavour and appeal is strikingly similar, isn't it?Well, that's not the funny part.The funny part is that they are treated as diametrically opposite in a spectrum of choices. If you choose one, you will certainly be condemned (maybe even secretly) if you choose the other one as well!
But you see, going by the laws of similarity and proportion, be it folks lost in worship at a meditation/religious centre or folks grooving with the moving disc of a DJ, it's but a group of disciples with their hands up, lost in the music, worshipping.
Absolute respect. For both.

Well, the idea isn't the comparison of choices but rather to focus on the calling behind the choices. Strangely, a calling can sometimes lead to the seemingly dissimilar choices.
They say a person who has the nature of mountains can hear the call of the mountains, he feels a natural affinity around mountains. A similar thing can be said about a person who has the nature of sea.
Question is, when you land on the sense of a calling, do you presume that the whole sum of your natures and characteristics reflects the calling somewhat?
There must be some innate methodology at work within you which causes you to hear the call because if it wasn't for that part in you, however hidden, you couldn't have identified the signals. Almost like a hidden cellphone tower eh?
On the other side of it, how do you know it's indeed a true calling and not a fraud?
We perceive things symbolically. We understand things in whatever way we had previously known about them or things similar. So, an act or gesture that means something to someone can mean something completely different to you. It's like looking at a red rose and not knowing quite surely if your friend also saw the EXACT same shade of red that you saw.
How tough then it should be for you to know something whose existence goes beyond our general realm of perception!
So then it struck me that it's like being in love; you know it when you know it. Either you hear the call and know it's the call or you never hear it at all.
The calling, like the call of a mystic waterfall draws us to what we actually are, consistently and persistently, until we arrive at the source of the call. The road that we trudge becomes our calling. Like an itch until you stretch your hands and itch where it's itching, like your striving for perfection unless you feel perfectly perfect, like holding your breath in anticipation to meet your loved ones until you meet them face to face! And the rest, is sheer magic!

So, this party's non stop and the DJ's gonna blow your speaker up, the music is on. Are your feet tapping to the music of the call?

Potential Masterchef!

During the blissful vacation a few weeks back, I was having an early morning chat with my friend and meandering from the conversation on the school days, schoolmates, our favourite subjects and various other assorted nostalgic things, we stopped by a turn of retrospection.
Between the regular classes, Monday tests, surprise tests, exams and the usual fun at school, it almost seemed like an exercise of bucking horses up in preparation of some sort of a battle. In retrospect, things didn't seem so deadly and we agreed with a relief like the relief of a constipated man after successfully responding to nature's call.
It was apparent that in those days, some of us were literally living in a pressure cooker, some sadly without any outlet of any sort as such.
But after all these years, all of it hardly seemed to be a reason behind success or failure, happiness or sadness.
Maybe it's because, potential is what had driven the most of us. Despite of being serial backbenchers some of us had made the most of life.
So after jigging the idea in my head I deduced, life is like a body.
Aye listen up, don't dismiss me yet.
We all have a capacity to eat and capacity to assimilate that food in our bodies.
Now, some of us are naturally capable of eating and assimilating a specific type of food quicker or better than others. That doesn't mean we need to be nourished in the same way. My friend who used to gulp a glass of milk everyday was very different to me. I, in full support and association of my body, couldn't stand milk!
Now, imagine a generic place, where generic food (supervised and distributed by government agencies and other assorted authoritative bodies) is fed to a sample of children, even forcefully at times.
And imagine a worrying mother emptying her heart saying,"you know the teacher said my son Iguessialwayssuck ate just 10.53634 grams of rice today while Mrs. Knowitall's son Winningiseasy had 10.55 grams rice. Where shall I go with this disgrace! I train him every day to eat rice..a lot of it actually..but somehow he isn't able to cope up. I really dunno what he'd grow up to be." Sounds freaking crazy, isn't it! Hold that thought.
Well, obladi oblada and some of us grow obese and often some of us remain deprived of the nutrients our bodies actually needed.
Lah la lala...life goes on. Later in life, some do get back to the track to end up just fine and some don't.  And for those who get in a healthy shape have nothing to do with the .01366 grams of rice that Iguessialwayssuck couldn't eat one fine day! In simpler terms, if I must explain, being happy in life has very less to do with the schooling and upbringing one has had. It's everything to do with one's true potential and realising the true source of strength!

Might I add on to my questions and ask another random one?
Have you considered how similar eating is to loving??
Queer huh..but the stuff you partake of is assimilated within you and becomes a part of you, either makes or breaks you. Isn't that how love works as well?

The true and eternal One has an appetite for good love as we have appetite for good food.
If I must go down your gut to explain the analogy, after eating a platter with bacteria sprayed as topping, the process of indigestion will surely throw it all out right outside your body. All in much worse state compared to to its state at intake.
Ah so you see, choosing not to love at all is as funny as choosing not to eat at all.
And choosing to love something that causes havoc to your system can surely be compared to eating food that harms your body.
Seems like we all have different capabilities to love and that's what we do all our lives. That's how we grow rather choose to grow or choose to stunt ourselves.
 "So class, what do we call a person who introduces us to ways to choose the right food, why, even turn out delicious eatables out of them?"
Class: "Masterchef!!"
"So class, what do we call him who adds up all the abilities to love and introduces us to love?
Class:"Love Himself!!"