Battles and Wars!!

You can win the battles against your opponents by forwarding arguments, emotional blackmail, breast beating and crying but these battles do no good in the long run.

This means that despite knowing that you are at fault you are not inclined to admit them. The greatest impediment in resolving the problem is lack of introspection.

If we examine for a few minutes before going to bed what we have done or talked or what was our behavior towards others, was it justified really or was it the sheer refusal not to admit our faults, we can attain peace and serenity not only for ourselves but for those who we are fighting with.

Second most important fact is to possess the feeling of remorse and admit to the opponent that you were at fault but at the time anger and other negative feelings overpowered us.

By admitting the fault we can fill the opponent with a feeling of confidence and love. Otherwise the beast of mistrust will rear its head again after few days. In the end either of us will be decimated surviver will be left as a repentant fool.

A strange Food Chain!!!

To survive in this harsh world, one has to struggle and beat others. While in the world of animals the competition is really physical, the human beings take it to mental level.

Humans have the ability to hide their emotions, they store their grudges against others and thus compete on a very different level. Most of their actions are covert in nature.

Animals have very hard life that way. Most of them settle their scores on the spot. They don’t keep it for the future. They even do not seem to repent the loss of their near and dear ones in the struggle as the humans do. They seem to be resigned to their fate and take the events as they come.

Since they have to face a fierce competition for their food, they are masters at conserving their energies, they don’t waste it unnecessarily. Since they don’t get much for over eating, they don’t need to exercise for their fitness.

Since many days, I am observing a strange thing. In the early morning, scores of crows dive into the garbage in the ditch outside the boundary of our colony. They dive and come out with bits of parts of the dead birds mostly chickens.

With some morsel in their beaks, they sit on the nearby tree branches and many sit on the tops of the buildings of our office which is adjacent to the boundary.

I also invariably noted the presence of stray dogs standing below these trees and always looking up. I have the suspicion that dogs are waiting for the crows to throw away the discarded morsels and eat them.

They hope that since crows are endowed with power to fly, they will not linger on morsel in the mouth longer. They discard them after eating small bits and then fly to get the new better ones.

Then, I noticed dogs sitting on the top of the wall of the building where the skeleton of a hoarding is situated and which is regularly occupied by the crows. This wall is facing the highway and first I thought that these dogs are surveying the traffic on the highway!

But everyone knows that no animal will take the risk to go and sit on the ledges from where they can even fall down fatally. It dawned upon me that again the reason is the same. Getting the discarded and thrown away morsels of the offal.

This whole phenomenon seem to prove that even crows can feed the dogs. Thus a new food chain is created.

Thoughts

Writing does not come easily. Thoughts jostle with one another in the brain. Confusion abounds in the head. Everything is hazy. Threads of thoughts seemed to be entangled on one another. Incoherent stream of them is what comes out.

Inside there is overcrowding of thoughts, because the thinking process is unending, but it seems that they don’t want to leave the brain. They seem to be pushing one another out.

Occasionally, some thoughts come popping out and spill on to the paper. The ink hardly dries from pen because the words do not flow like torrents but just as a trickle. How I wish that floodgates of words open and words pour onto the paper.

I pray to Goddess Saraswati, patron of the arts to impart me this boon at least. Presently, both the Goddesses: Saraswati and Laxmi, have showered blessings which are just average. I don’t say that I have not been lucky.

I wanted to do doctorate in Chemistry but the time seems to have run out. My resolutions have been very weak. Had they been stronger, I would have satisfy my attitude for writing and knowing the mysteries of nature through science at least.

Indians as such are steeped in the metaphysics with umpteen number of Gods and Goddesses in the mythology of Hinduism. It seems that there are enough numbers of Gods for supervision of the activities on this earth as well as the higher world and also nether world.

Window to Vista

You are sitting in room enclosed in the walls. You long to know and feel the open world. You crane your neck but nothing helps. Why do you long to go outside? This is because you have created inside the room a world of your own.

You are the architect of that world. You have changed the ambiance of the room to make it to your own liking and comfort. But at the same time, you want to savor the nature or the world outside.

You open the window. Now a sliver of the nature is within your grasp. You can see an occasional person walking through the street, a tree along the edge of street. Now you are identifying yourself with the nature and its creator by appreciating the scene outside.

You become restless. You throw open the door and rush outside. Now you are under the limitless skies. You see trees outside, you see children playing in the streets. You see the toddlers holding the hands of their mothers and reluctantly walking along making efforts in between to climb into the lap of their mothers. You see people going for their chores.

Now you are one with the creation of the nature. You are a part of the grand scheme of the God. Now when you have dissolved your identity into the vista, you enjoy the nature. You have to lose your identity to be one with the God.

Lucky Pomeranian

The white Pomeranian which was abandoned by its owner and left to fend for itself in the harsh world has once again found an owner. I saw him bathing and combing the dog. The dog also seems to have taken a fancy for the new owner.

During the interweening period, it has somehow adjusted with the pariah dogs. This dog is very handsome. In the beginning, street dogs bullied it and there were fierce fights in which it was badly bruised. But slowly the street dogs came to terms with it and it was accepted into their fold.

A Pomeranian Pet (Just illustration)

It used to sleep with other dogs under cars and huts shades. It sometimes chose the bitches also and tried mating them but it was fiercely spurned and bitches showed the white fangs .

Since it was a pet from its childhood, it has not faced the kind of hardships faced by the street dogs and has been more fortunate but in the bargain, it did not learn the art of fights and competition for the food:  a trait very much desired to survive as the father of evolution Sir Charles Darwin told us many years ago.

As now it is again under protection, it is safe. But it sometimes runs towards its street friends when it sees them but soon returns to its new found haven.

I am not a Scheherazade!

Yes, I am not a Scheherazade, the famous woman teller of never ending stories of ‘Arabian Nights’ who could keep you on the edge of seat and weave a magical tale from the previous tale.

She kept her husband prince Shahryar spellbound with a new story every night but never completed it and kept the end for next night to avoid being killed by her husband. The king, in order to listen the climax did not kill her.

She told the tales for thousand and one nights. During this period, the prince fell slowly in love with her and revoked his vow to keep a bride for one conjugal night and then kill her the following morning.

Depiction of Queen Scheherazade telling a story to Shahryar

My store of imagination is very meagre, It is bits here and bits there. After writing a single paragraph, it is quits for me. My imagination runs dry. Thank God, I am not telling my ideas to a prince of Arabia, otherwise my head must have rolled off long time ago.

For that matter, my readers-if there are any-are very tolerant and forgive my idiosyncrasies. I am not a pedagogue, I am not teaching any lessons to anyone. As my attention wanders from place to place, I try to capture the events in my mind and then transfer them to the paper and ink. That is all. Thanks

Change is not always for the better

It is generally said that change is always for the better. It is a general statement and hence may not be always true or valid for all changes. Sometimes change can disturb your balance with the nature and people and can result in problems and makes you repent your decisions.

For example, the weather at the new place may not suit you and you shall not feel in good spirits. Your morale can go down. Sometimes, the people at new place may not turn out to be of your liking and you will feel cut off and isolated like a fish in new waters.

Then you may come face to face with people whom you had known and made a very optimistic opinion about them when you were away from each other. But coming nearer may show of the facets of their personality which you have not expected. Your expectations are shattered. Your mind struggles to change its opinion about them and suffers.

Sometimes, the adaptability becomes poor with increasing age. Physical strength is down and visiting places and friends can become a demanding task in itself. This results in the loneliness.

Of course, if you already decided to live at a given place, then also your life becomes routine and stale. Mind then craves for newer things, places and people. In such cases a short trip to another place may be even better for us.

So Much Water has flown under the Bridge

It has been seriously a long while, I have written something in the blog though have wrote many things on the Facebook. Every time, I opened my blog page, I thought of writing something but it seems that some unseen force is holding my hand. Also whatever I have written till date seems all very frivolous when I look back at it.

It is just to begin again, I am trying my hand. Sometimes, the life I am leading seems so purposeless. I ask myself is this what you call life. Sometimes feel like running away to somewhere where nary a soul knows me.

All this requires crossing a barrier just like the chemical reactions where the reactants have to gather enough energy from heat or other sources to overcome the summit of energy of activation. After this it is all downhill.

Meanwhile, I have almost finished the book “City of Djinns” by William Dalrymple. What a writer!. The book reveals such unknown facts about Delhi. I am very much happy that at last after so many days I have read one good book.

I read very slowly because I meditate too much over the prose. I am surprised to hear some friends saying that they have read such and such book during the flight of 2 hours or in a day. It must be an injustice to the author who God knows had spent so many days collecting the facts for writing the book. Let the book be read slowly, and it shall reveal the nuances much better.

Thank God I have returned again, I seem to be able to catching some words from the hordes which are flying thickly around the paper and placing them on the paper at last.

All the World is Stage

It is 05:30 in the morning. Only a few die hard health freaks and those to whom doctors have advised are walking on the peripheral road. Some are going clockwise and other anticlockwise. In the temple, the woman who reads like a parrot from religious book, has not come yet. In the meanwhile, till the woman gets ready for the temple, for the benefit of those who also discharge their duty of genuflecting before the God, the caretakers of the temple start the tape recorder which recites the “Gayatri Mantra”. People come and ring the bells. There are crows which sit on the roof of the temple and tamarind tree looking for the early worm.

Different people come at different times and this continues. A group of 3 people walks and talks. Talk is mostly centered around the work and about the bosses. There are dogs in the groups and sometimes they look too menacing. Besides this there are milk delivery men on cycle and scooter. Mostly the road is empty.

It is approaching seven O’clock  and activity begins to hot up. Everywhere there are school children and teachers coming to KV school on buses, scooters, motorcycles, cycles, vans and on foot. It is all a melee and utter confusion. Students are running pell-mell. Many are totally uninterested to come to school.  The stage which was having very few actors an hour before is now bustling and overcrowded. Till 0730 when the bell rings declaring the beginning of the school, it is like that.

As soon as the school commences, again the scene changes and streets look barren except some people coming to fetch the milk from a van. You realize the the bard, that supreme author called Shakespeare, was dead right when he said that “All the world is a stage and we are all but actors”

Another scene is enacted on a mammoth scale. It is at the VT or Church Gate railway stations in the evening. There are thousands of actors taking part in a scene which lasts hardly for few minutes before the another shot is ready. Whenever a train lumbers into the station, commuters run, jostle, crush each other to board the train and occupy the sitting place. For a moment, the station platform becomes completely empty. This is only for a few moments. The fresh crop of human beings begins sprouting and within no time all the places are occupied and people seem to the crop which is rich. This process continues late in the evening. Weak willed persons can get swooned at the sight.

Oh, Dr. Baba

There he is, standing out like a tree day and night, in the sun and rain, in the winter and autumn. He is bound to the stone and is thus in the shackles. While trees have roots and get nourishment from the earth and grow, he is rootless. He has been turned into a static unlike a dynamic entity he was when he was alive. Birds sit on his head, his shoulders and shit there.  A tattered garland made of synthetic flowers and ribbons hangs around his neck. He is so helpless that he can’t even remove that tattered garland and throw it away. He has been confined to this place by his own people for the emancipation of whom he fought for his entire life.

Dr. B.R.Ambedkar

He had wished that he will live in the hearts of every Indian and thus be very happy and will be in the dynamic state. His followers have got many advantages due to his efforts. But human nature believes more in outwardly show rather than the sincere attachment. He is remembered on some important days such as the day he came into this world, the day he left this world, the days on which he made some very important declarations, vows and agreements.

Our government is also like his followers. It will also bath him, polish him and garland him on those days. Functions are held near his statue. While he observes helplessly, the loud speakers blare with heavy words from speakers. Every effort is made to give prominence to the caste divisions which incidentally have been kept alive by the politicians for their own selfish ends and have become more marked instead of diminishing.

He is yearning to be alive by making a niche in the hearts of Indians, not shackled to the stone posts. Release him and free him for he who has toiled day and night to free us has been shackled by us.