Point of view

Have you ever felt that striking moment of understanding, when a lot of things fall in perspective? It often forms an unforgettable time when you understand something you weren’t even aware you were questioning, where your mind was furiously demanding answers. You didn’t consciously think about it, but each and every action which assumed a certain answer to that question was doubted by you. And maybe you let your instinct rule that doubt till now. The question was still left wanting, it was a burning sign which demanded attention from somewhere in the recesses of your subconscious. It’s like being a pawn in a board game, allowing yourself to be moved by fate’s dice and then suddenly stepping back and getting to understand the board a little better. And realizing how this ‘dice’ is just your way of quenching those unsolved mysteries and there’s actually a specific reason why it showed that particular number.
 

It could be scary to think that how such a moment of realization would evaporate all our assumptions and dependence on fate and burden us with the knowledge that we could have sought out earlier had we paid attention to those signs. But then again, complicated as millions of human minds have made the workings of our daily lives, with each one proposing their ‘individual’ ideas, how much could one possibly rely on their own perspective to make sense of the maze they are lost in? …where each one is lost in their own positions, still wondering where to go, some being falsely confident they have reached. And some might believe that actually reaching the open end is not the goal, the goal is to keep getting more and more involved with its convoluted mysteries. So most of the times it’s probably wiser to forgive yourself to not have seen that coming, and at best learn something from it.

I wonder how one can always guarantee those few moments of magic when all that you are looking for, trying to make sense of, trying to attach a reason to falls into place by the power of perspective, where you can elevate yourself from the level of the problem to the level of the cause and eventually the level of a solution. Maybe Einstein best understood it using his amazing corpus callosum when saying -
 

‘No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it’.
 

So, what if, we always had a perfect perspective for everything ? Firstly, one has to assume there’s a perfect perspective. Let us say it is the one where you look at things in the most reasonable, perfect way possible. And probably it’s not about being ‘positive’ or ‘negative’ but having good logic. When you see things in a way which make the most sense. Assuming there does exist this level which makes most sense (from which it follows there would be no dry jokes on the topic, or any easy way to attempt humor), how would it ‘feel’ to see things that way? The most obvious guess is that it wouldn’t feel after a while. The human brain might desensitize itself due to this constant stimulus (Which explains a wide variety of things – ranging from awesome to loathsome). The best guess I have is that you would have all the answers to stuff most people grapple for – to be or not to be, to do or not to do? Every choice of yours would now be no longer subjected to the harshness confusion bestows upon it due to lack of perspective.
 

But given the desensitization to perspective, what would be the value remaining for perspective to hold any meaning in your life? It’s like saying you can eat ice-cream all you like but you may not feel the smooth creaminess of icy flavors touching your tongue and passing down your throat. Like saying that you can listen to music all you want but it won’t invoke a single mental or physical reaction, except that probably you would respond to the decibel level being crossed. Yes, many of us do identify with other things we are already desensitized to because of over stimulus. But the worst would probably being robbed of that awe you get after gaining a new perspective.
 

So maybe it is best we do realize new perspectives occasionally. So that we are able to appreciate them for the wealth of meaning they hold, for the ways in which they solve our knotted thoughts, and often remove the cloud out doubt darkening our minds, or at least attempt to explain why there is one looming there in the first place. They are rare moments of bliss and I have learnt you cannot really chase them like any greedy pursuit. I think they come with experience, knowledge, thinking, communication, and most importantly an openness to understand a perspective. And maybe this ‘openness to a different point of view’ is one of the most important qualities humans have, almost equaling our capability of imagination. Ironically enough, you need a hidden cloud of doubt to even realize that what you found was treasure, an answer, a piercing ray of light.

 

And for all we know, perspectives - being elusive as they are, they’ll change, break, merge, even disappear to make place for a pattern which we never knew before, again surprising us, yet making clear sense.
 

Just like the kaleidoscope, ever changing, yet symmetrical to be reasonable enough, delighting us with its every tilt.



 

A matter of company

It was a very vague painting. In its meaning. There are simpler ways to convey these ideas than the convoluted mysteries a stroke of a brush puts up on a canvas, Utioh thought. It meant a lot to him though. The lady with a rose in her hand. Sniffing it, reminded her of a son she had. A son long lost in some foreign country she had been to. Her slightly bent frame and averted eyes could well be interpreted as the shyness of a lady when a red rose was presented to her by a prospective suitor. By some pessimistic mind, it could be seen as an offering she was making on the death anniversary of her beloved, at a cemetery. What it meant to Utioh was just a mother, going to a garden, picking up a fallen flower and feeling nostalgic about her son. It couldn’t be more obvious to him. The motherly love was poignant. He had painted it with all his heart for a week. It was his favorite painting. The others were lying in the gallery of the hospital. A make-shift gallery that is. The hospital thought that their almost resident, two- year admitted patient should be allowed to display his visual treats. Out of lack of space they had to shift the paintings to the doorway near the morgue. They were quite out of place though. One wouldn’t expect that particular doorway to have a line-up of such extravagant and boldly colorful work. The famed Brooklyn bridge, an airplane, the Alps mountain range being looked at excitedly by prospective mountaineers planning for a climb, a toddler being mesmerized by his own reflection in a clear pond, with the backdrop of a quaint European neighborhood - Utioh’s paintings sometimes spoke of brilliant adventure and sometimes quite moments of reflection. This painting was quite less showy. It was almost a passive portrait of a woman.

A nurse knocked the door and gently interrupted him.

‘Sir, we need to do your pre-Op just in case’

‘Just in case?’

‘Just in case you vomit blood and we have to re-operate’ the nurse said, her tone easily giving away how hard she was trying to be less motherly and more objective about her patient’s well-being.

 ‘Okay’ Utioh said, without any emotion. He was just trying to get his mind off that hauntingly beautiful sight of his mother he saw in his dream the night before. It was one of those recurring dreams which started him on this particular portrait. He was about five when his mother passed away succumbing to osteosarcoma. He couldn’t remember much about her except that she loved him deeply and that being a single mother, she had a hard time with her disease and her son to take care of. Twelve years after her death he was diagnosed with a rare cancer of the retina. The genetic connection was denied by his doctors. He didn’t have the usual regret his doctors saw cancer patients have - of living someone else’s life. Brought up in an orphanage like he was, it wasn’t necessary to succeed with stellar grades to impress anyone. There was no one to impress but himself. The world was too fast and too unconcerned with his success as far as he knew. All he accepted as a source of happiness was beauty. It was a plan to travel every single country there is, to take in that varied mix of myriad colors, people and breathe the air of every place there is to see. And limited as his means were, he planned, he dreamed.

‘Its done Utioh, you must take rest now’

‘Thanks nurse, I will. I’ll ring my pager if I have any reaction, okay?’

‘Yes’ she smiled perfunctorily and left.

He tried sleeping aided by the drowsiness induced by the drug. He could see the walls around him, blurring. Blank white walls unlike those he wanted. They didn’t have wall-high glass windows with a beach view of the Californian house he dreamed of. They definitely didn’t have the view of a snow filled garden a quaint European home in the midst of winter would have. The whiteness of the walls just made him think of that metaphor he used for life- a canvas. And just like his own life, it was blank. Waiting to be painted with his dreams, in whatever years he had left. Or months, as the doctor had said last week. It was impossible he knew. Either his eyes would give way to cancer or his life. He didn’t care to consider which would happen first, and which one would be more painful. Beauty was life for him. There were means to get to see beauty - money, opportunity, people. What he had was static art, inspired by the art classes he took as a kid, stories he heard from the orphanage nuns, photographs he saw. He knew there were millions of places in the world which would take his breath away the moment he feasted his eyes on them. There were thousands of people to meet and conversations to be had, thoughts to be shared, perspectives to understand, cultures to marvel at. He longed for them every night. He wondered if by just thinking about them, he would have dreams where he could visit all those places, meet all those people. Whether his subconscious could make up for the lack of a reality he wanted. It was working since a week. He could see his mother. She would think about him in the gardens of heaven. He opened his eyes to take another look at her portrait.

A little girl wearing a light blue hospital gown just like his was also looking at the portrait. She appeared to be of about four. Utioh begin to get up from his bed. Sensing movement about her, she looked in his direction with her big blue curious eyes. The twinkle in them sharply contrasted the dark circles around her eyes. She began to smile a tiny smile. Utioh felt like lifting her up, and swirling her around but he could presently barely lift himself off the bed. She ran a little and sat on his bedside without prompting.

‘What brings you here little angel?’ Utioh asked.

‘I heard you paint. I like it.’ She said pointing to the woman’s portrait.

‘Thank you young lady. Do you want me to paint you a picture?’ he asked.

‘No, but I want to know who that lady is. She is beautiful, can I meet her?’

‘She is my mother. I will meet her soon. You cannot. Sorry’ Utioh said with an apologetic face.

‘Oh. That’s okay. By the way, you have a pretty face just like your mother. Why don’t you come with me to my ward? We will play. We will talk.’ She said with excitement.

‘Okay, hold my hand and lead me there, young lady. And why are you here wearing this blue gown?’

‘I have a little problem doctor Robert says. He says I have something called osteosa… osteosama.’

Utioh skipped a heart-beat. He tried to change the topic.

‘Oh. Doctor Robert. He is a handsome fellow too, don’t you think?’

‘Naah, he’s just okay. Anyway, most doctors are expected to be handsome you know.’

Utioh let out a chuckle.

‘Why, who told you?’

‘Why would you stay in a ward like this to just look at people who are not handsome putting needles in you?’

‘Young lady, you have got a point. What is your name by the way?’

‘Cristina. What about you?’

‘Utioh’

‘What does it mean?’

‘I would like to believe it means the sun.’

‘You don’t have a dictionary, do you?’ Cristina said with a laugh. ‘Tell me how long will you be here. I can be your friend. I am going to be here till next month.’

‘This is my home now’ Utioh said.

‘Oh. Great. We’ll play everyday.’

‘Yes.’

He turned around before heading towards Cristina’s ward and saw a nurse standing by. She was looking at the girl with such pity in her eyes, he knew he would be sharing his home with Cristina from then on. Hope had expanded definitions. He had a friend to share some cheer amidst his fears. He hoped for her as well now. It didn’t matter if the walls were white. He knew it didn’t matter as long as he could see them with someone else.

 

Panacea is usually a person

I have always wondered how far and deep could people ever affect you. Acknowledging that you are defined by people around you, that you are influenced by them profoundly and your attitudes shaped by the people you have most contact with is acknowledging part truth, but doesn’t that make you feel a bit less empowered? Even if it does, it makes sense to acknowledge their part in making you who you are for, people indeed play a huge huge role in defining your attitudes, moods, beliefs. It is subjective though - since your attitude to how much you let people in will affect the extent to which they influence you, but I think there must be at least some minimum level to which they affect most of us.  Of lately, I think I have begun to believe that there are those special few who can heal you no matter how much of a deep distress or trouble you have been in. That if you give a chance to people, they can act as a Panacea.

To march forward in life with the belief that you have absolute control over it is a very powerful attitude to adopt. But taking cognizance of the fact that making a bit of a leeway for people to enter your life, to listen to your troubles and worries, and letting them give you an advice or two, letting them empathize with your problems, is a good thing too.

In the face of an adversity, like losing track of where you are going in life, straining your relationships,  financial trouble, disharmony, disorganization of life plans, failure in a new endeavor, mid-life crisis, quarter-life crisis, name-it-whatever crisis :P, disease, disillusionment, unemployment, whatever it is, we may employ a couple of professionals, search on the internet, libraries, read self-help books for quick-fix solutions, refer to acquaintances facing the same problem and hope to get some sound advice from them. And then you call and talk to that one person who knows you from long time, and whom you know from a long time, someone in a completely different situation or stage of life, and the burden evaporates almost with their 'hello'. They can sense your trouble the moment you speak. They magically know that you are in some deep distress. And you don’t have to expound on your vexed situation or give context as much as you might have to for anyone else. Also, even if you do, they wouldn’t really get it for it seem obscure to them since they have no specific ‘expertise’ in that area. But their soothing and calm voice, the firmness with which they just give simple, generic advice, or even just an ‘I know, it happens... this too shall pass, do not worry’ or ‘I will be there for you no matter what’ is enough. Is more than enough, and far more effective in whetting your determination and preparedness to face the problem than a million detailed things anyone else would have said to you. Those problems which haunted your nightmares and made you feel so grim, just seem so far away and meaningless. I wondered why this happens. When there’s still that problem, that situation looming right in front threatening you with black circumstances, how can a simple sentence make you so instantly calm and relaxed and yet prepared for it? I guess it’s because we realize that just as these people have been a constant in your life, they will be a constant no matter whether that problems threaten to uproot your peace or completely take you by storm, shattering you. Maybe deep down, you accept the fact that no matter how hard you fall, there is a cushion below, since it always has been there. Of course it will be devastating to fall, but knowing that you will rise again, knowing you have a team with you, albeit a highly unskilled team, yet a team having that rare power of being your panacea, your very own all-healing force, you reinforce the belief that you will survive this. And that trust in those people - permanent support system is enough to make you believe in being able to overcome any thing life can ever present to you.


Considering this, I think people are underrated as being very influencing in our lives. They are not just influencing, they are often paramount to us, they inspire us to be grow. They instill bravado. They are the fuel which can make us believe in ourselves, pick us up when we fall down, heal us when we are crushed and trampled upon, inspire us when we are jaded and hopeless, push us when we give in to stagnancy, make us better when we are good, they are more than food or water or medicine. They are almost an unspoken basic necessity. And while time and again we might shrug them off, they still stick to us and stick up for us no matter what. And if you can think of even one person while reading this, then trust me, you are lucky. It feels slightly disempowering yet great to acknowledge the healing power of the life around me. I may not depend on it in totality per se, but having that trust, cushion, keeps me going. And I don’t know what have I ever done to deserve it.  Nevertheless here's a heartfelt thanks to all those who have been there for me always, and a promise to reciprocate the same.



 

Chocolate Brownie

No, this is not a recipe for chocolate brownies. People who know me well would be sure of this :P.
This is a fictional story I penned on a rainy day long back and other than the rain it has no connection to reality whatsoever. Let me know how you find it. And thanks to all those people who read this and reviewed this before I finally put it up here! :)

The rain pours on my window. I observe a drop hitting on the glass which was clear just a few moments ago. The drop trickles down beautifully. And I just observe it, lost in time. Hoping you would be here. When my phone rings. It’s you! Hurray!

‘Hi Darling’

‘Darling, seriously? The Victorian era ended like centuries ago.’

‘Centuries? Seriously? Did no one teach you history?’

I know we are kind of undermining each other, but I love the leg-pulling. I smile. And I am sure you must be smiling too.

‘Yeah whatever.’

‘Come meet me.’  My heart lurches. How?

‘You are thousands of miles away. The only way I can see you is Skype.’

‘And Google hangouts. You really need to be more aware.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Frankly, I think there’s another way to meet me.’ I feel a bit pissed off now.

‘Okay, I don’t know all the technical gyan or whatever. I admit it. Happy?’

‘Yes, happy. But still there’s another way. I am like one mile from where you stay you see I preponed my…’

‘Oh my GOD!! And you didn’t tell me?? ‘ I try to sound angry but really, I can’t hide my happiness. You make me feel like I am on cloud nine, in the seventh heaven, and I just have one thing to say, that you coupled with rains is like my favorite thing. But I want to act hard to get, you know.

‘Aren’t you like happy or surprised how normal people are supposed to be?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to tell when you are coming like normal people do?’ I try to imitate your playful tone. But I really cannot.

‘Well, I am not normal, kind of extraordinary’

‘Whatever’ At this point I really want to squeal because I cannot contain my happiness any longer.

‘See you at CCD in 5? Bye’ Like just assuming I would come.

‘Okay, I admit I am kind of happy.’ I finally concede.

‘hmm….’

‘And like rains and you together is like chocolate brownies with lots of vanilla ice cream. Irresistible.’ And I make the mistake of comparing food to a boyfriend.

‘Wait, am I the brownie or the vanilla ice cream?’ You say, in the same vein as you ask football scores.

‘Let us meet and debate on that. Don’t want to get racist over the phone now’ and I just confirm like that that I would come.

‘Are you going to wear your blue windcheater?’

‘Does it matter what color?’ I know I just want to hang-up and meet you but it is kind of addictive. Talking random.

‘Yeah, that’s how I distinguish you. The blue person is mine.’ Mine. You sure know a way to a girl’s heart mister.

‘Hmm…. Let me just surprise you.’ I say instead.

‘I love surprises.’

‘I can see that you love giving them.’

‘And why again are we still on the phone? And not out of our buildings already?’

‘Because you want me to wear the blue windcheater. You know, my supreme identity thingy.’

‘Oh yeah.’ You say that and I know you are smiling. And we are silent again. For a minute. But I know it’s not like awkward silence. Cause I hear you breathing. And you hear me. I look again at the drop on the window. Its drops now. I didn’t realize when it got so drizzly. I can see my blue windcheater hung on the doorframe.

‘Let’s meet in 5.’ I say.

‘I know what you’ll be wearing.’

‘My supreme identity thingy.’

‘Love you.’

‘Love you darling.’ I say.

‘It’s not the Victorian era’

‘I know’ and I hang up. Blushing and as happy as I am sure the trees must be outside the window.

 

Choices and Jumps

Have you ever experienced ambivalence to almost every single decision you need to take? Decisions which are life-changing. And also the ones which look small on the outside, but which go on to form habits for a long time, thereby altering your course. Have you ever experienced a pull from both sides, and yet felt like you might just get time for one of the things, or worse, that you gotta choose? How do you choose when you want it all, when you feel that by rejecting something you are possibly letting go of a potentially awesome time? What if, after choosing you fear whether you were meant to choose that? And then you slightly envy those who know exactly what they want every single time. Those who seem to never ever regret their choices.

I have done this. I feel this every time I got to decide. It’s not the getting to choosing part I hate, I love to have choices. I love to be able to decide what I want next. It makes me who I am. And I feel lucky to have been able to make the choices I have made till now and can’t imagine a life without them. They may have been wrong, they may have been right, but not having to wonder something on the lines of ‘If only…’ makes you feel empowered. But with choice also comes this huge thing called ‘responsibility’. It’s huge because it weighs you down. It’s huge because you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself if it doesn’t turn out well. So, although I love the thought of having different options, I think I would be a fairly calmer person if I didn’t have them. If a lot of things were just decided for me. Like when I am about to take a big risk, a big bet, it wouldn’t be because I think I can do it, but because someone else thinks I can do it. And of course there are people who support your judgment sometimes but it’s not like they always vehemently force you to go one way or the other.

I remember an incident from when I was a child whenever I have to take a decision based on a big leap of faith today. I had just started learning to swim and everyday there would be this episode where I would cry for I wouldn’t want to go to the swimming pool. And I remember it being irrational. I was plain stubborn, and without any reason I just cried. And once there, magically, all my frowns and tears would go away, I would enjoy it. But that’s not the end of the story. My swimming instructor, a lady, who swam like a lithe fish in her natural environment, was a strict one. I would need to dive from the 1^st floor, sometimes the 2^nd, and once even the 4^th. Imagine seeing a pool of more than 20 feet deep blue water and having to jump without a float and then being asked to swim all the way to the opposite side. It could get terrifying sometimes. But I wasn’t like super terrified, but terrified enough to not do that as instantly. And there were moments when I stood there debating whether to jump or not and my instructor, she just came and literally pushed my back and off I would fall from the diving board. If it were a movie, you would think she is trying to kill me :P. And somehow, I always was able to swim to the other end, I don’t remember being just stuck there asking for help. I had that stamina, and I think deep down I knew it, but I allowed my fear and reluctance to get the better of me while I just stood there staring into the deep water. But she knew better, and she believed that the child ahead of her would not drown, she believed enough in me to just push me and let me swim.

 As we grow up I think the people who know our skills so well are lesser, and amongst them, the people who push us when we need it, decrease even further. So much, that at one point, we have to learn to push ourselves. We can’t always wait for someone to show belief. And although I feel all proud preaching this here, I know I have failed at it myself so many times. There are many such metaphorical pools I am still staring at from my metaphorical diving boards. And I know, that this time there might not be any push. But I’ll have to learn to believe that I will make it to the other end. However impossible it looks. That I do have that strength which will carry me there.

Often, many choices are just like about deciding whether to walk back from the diving board, or to take that life changing dive. And it’s risky, absolutely risky, to just stand there and never jump at all. J
And I am not sure I can take that risk. ;)


 

Cheers!

Here's another short story quite different from the one I posted earlier. 
I hope you enjoy it :)

And before you read, just a disclaimer  : 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. :P


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We are drunk. Wild, beyond our imagination drunk. I never imagined drinking more than few sips of wine. That too the socially required kind of wine. But on the front porch. Suddenly, without any reason but the fact that I am hitting silver jubilee age on this planet and never did anything wild, we are drinking without rhyme or reason. Wow. And I don’t understand different levels of drunk like you do. But you mention it after every shot of whisky, ‘this is the part where it just hits’, ‘this is when you lose sense of where you are and with whom’, ‘ this is when you start slurring’, ‘this is when you don’t drive’. And its funny. I laugh. And I think it’s a drunk laugh. One that starts as a normal giggling, but then goes on, like the funniest joke ever has been said, and momentarily my conscious self tries to stop laughing to pave a way for decent mannerism, but the shots get better of you and you continue your extended giggles- that sort of laugh. And its liberating to have this moment with you of all my pals. For you will look at me in the eye and say stuff I don’t want to hear even when neither of us are drunk. Stuff like ‘this isn't working for you. You should quit.’and even ‘try harder. There’s no way you should give up on this’ or the one thing I hate to hear the most ‘don’t talk to those people, they might be good, but you are better off without them’ to which I would pointedly reply ‘you have no business saying that’ to which you would just say ‘both of us know you are better off without them.’. You are the person I choose to drink crazy with for nothing we say to each other will ever surprise us the next day. I am grateful to have you in my life. So I say it out loudly.

‘I am grateful to have you in my life.’

‘I know’ you say with a sheepish grin and I wonder in my semi conscious state how could you keep that grin so controlled when you have had as much whisky as I did.

‘What are you looking at, drunken tramp ? ‘ You say and laugh.

‘Your stupid face.’ I say and laugh louder.

I continue the laugh till what seems like a minute in my head. It becomes a little giggle now.

I take another sip and say ‘I need liquid courage’ loudly.

‘WHAT?’ you say like your mind is somewhere else.

‘I said I need LEEQUEED curraggggge’ I slur.

‘For what?’

And I hug you. I am not a hugger. I say in my head. I am not a proud hugger. I am more like a action-reaction hugger. Newton’s third law of motion hugger. I hug when someone else initiates the hug. I am scared of starting a hug I say again in my head. It’s the fear of not being hugged back which makes me such a pretentious and action-reaction hugger.

But you hug me back and I hug you tighter. I think I am hugging you just to get rid of my hugging-phobia. I wonder why you are hugging me though.

I pull back and slur again ‘why are you hugging me?’

‘You started it.’

‘Yes but you hugged back. Why?’

‘I don’t know’

‘Okaaaaaaaay’ I slur and again go back to hugging you. We sit like that on the front porch, for like 10 minutes of comfortable human closeness, in our drunken state. I make a mental note. Drunkenness relieves you of not only hugger-phobia but also the 30,000 tonne burden on your back. And makes your liver gradually useless.

‘Drunkenness is a paradox’ I say.

I feel you nod your head. You pull back and say ‘we will discuss it tomorrow’

‘Hangover’

‘Yes we will have a hangover.’ You smile like you are happy saying that and I again go back to my laughing fits.

‘No I mean the movie Hangover. Lets watch it.’ I say with a sudden zeal which amazes me as much as you.

‘Now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ You ask dismissively.

‘I don’t know’ I say.

‘Okay, lets watch it then’

And we hold hands in our infinitely drunken state and leave the porch, the porch which will forever be the spot where two people celebrated a silver jubilee on planet earth and slurred and laughed and hugged and basically had one of their top ten awesomest moments of their lives.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wish I got to read this not knowing whats next and have a first impression, but I'll rely on your comments for that. :) Thank you for reading :)

Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar

There are few things in life which give us as much joy as listening to those magic words ‘You have won’. Often it’s not that direct. Often, it’s some form of recognition, right from a little mention of our name to people that matter, or an email, or a smile and a nod which reaffirms, which all translate into that feeling of victory. And it’s addictive. This feeling. This knowing you are appreciated for what you did. But to get there becomes the aim for most of us. No one aims to perform a mediocre job. It’s that simple. No one aims to fail. Most of us aim success, overwhelming, brilliant, shimmery, shining, success. It’s what we crave in jobs, in exams, it’s how we are wired. Success means survival. More so in today’s world. Where everywhere, everyone is competing like crazy, basic needs are no longer the priority, success is a basic need for survival. But with so many people fighting over that limited resource called success how can you ensure it every time? How can you sleep with a peaceful mind when all you think about is beating the competition? When the road to your success is simply competition, how do you even form any sane human relationship with your competitors?

There are many perceptions crowded around this concept of ‘success’ and ‘competition’ and although I don’t overthink about those, I think success should be as personal as public. It can’t be something others define for you. Not always. You can’t consider you achieved something, anything, simply because you followed a direction everyone told was right. For there is really no such thing as right direction, unless it’s something involving basic ethics. It’s more of a question of what’s right for you, rather, what path will you enjoy. Once you define your goals personally, which is a difficult job in itself, define what success really means to you, you might come to the grand realization that your only competition is with yourself. That the only person who you need to be better than is yourself. Since how can you be sure that the people outside, who you are trying to be better than are not even as good as you. Having said that, it’s not to say that you keep yourself in that comfortable bubble of oblivion, happily progressing at your own pace. But there’s that difference with being over obsessed at being better than ‘xyz’ and being aware of their qualities and learning from them. That’s when you tap the devil in you, try all sorts of mad behavior just to show them, and yourself and everyone who’s better. That’s when you introduce unhealthiness in your relationship. Which is far too common and far too ugly, and giving instances of that would really spoil this article. But to beat that, but to cope with the fact that stuff like that happens all I can say is, charity begins from home, you set an example people would look up to. Especially if one is in a position of authority, power, and wants to avoid ugly competition, you make sure you recognize each and every one for anything little and big they did. For to progress as a team, each little and big player needs to feel they are getting better. That their work matters. But it’s a hard thing to be able to see that need in people, be it people working with you, or the ones you lead, if you are too obsessed with your own goals. Your definition of success needs to overlap if not just compose of the definition of success for the people you try to lead, not just in thoughts, in actions. I mention this point here as understanding competition is not necessary at just an individual level, but at a team level. It’s about understanding that contrary to a popular proverb, not everything is fair in war.

 

 

But having said this, in all fairness, competition is responsible for a lot of awesome stuff humans do. Maybe that’s the reason why it’s an instinct. By trying to be better than yourself or others or both, everyone drives progress. At a bird’s eye view, if you were not a part of the competition, you can see how awesome it is for everyone, although often turning frustrating. Take a reality show for example. If people were not pitted against each other, would they really turn out to be better after it’s over than when they entered? Of course few would also turn bitter, sarcastic, egoistic. Yet, for the things they are competing, they set standards for everyone else to follow.

 

This is an intriguing topic and deserves a longer rant which will come when I get more perspective. Let me know yours!

Jigsaw Twins

Bus journeys can be the most tiring, boring things to go through what with weird lame movies you never want to see (read Himmatwala) being played and the lights being turned off just the moment you open the first page of the novel you have been longing to read since the moment you got it. But last week, it was different. An awesome different. Thanks to an amazing co-passenger who I got to know, and our constant banter. It was the first time we met, and there were obvious differences – a working wife who is living in Hyderabad with her husband, travelling to the same destination as me to meet her sister who is also married. You would expect us to just exchange few pleasantries and then go back to mind our own business (read just stare blankly at the window or listen to the same music over and over again :P ). But we talked. Like old friends meeting after a few years. It was like we were catching up with each other more than getting to know one another. Did I mention we have the same name? Not that it mattered. We laughed at the same things, talked about our careers, the stupidity of few filmmakers, why we don’t really get blackberry the way others do, Mr. Bean episodes, how we never understand anything of Telugu, how we just missed the bus(like literally the bus we were sitting in), how we are engineering graduates in the same branch and work in a different field, sleep at 1am, and anything and everything which came to the mind. I was amazed, pleasantly amazed at this effortless chatting. I mean how often do you meet strangers who have lived such a different life in a different place and have absolutely different priorities than you and yet you completely get them and they get you. It has led me to slightly believe that maybe, just maybe, we all have those few handpicked individuals randomly scattered on earth, who will be like Jigsaw pieces to us. Who will completely fit, for whom we can just be ourselves and they can be themselves and we will just click, our frequencies will match. And no, weirdly, they might not be whom to claim to be ‘great friends with’, or with whom you cross your career milestones, or your family, they might just be those sitting around you in a very random coincidence of sorts for a 12- hour long odd bus journey. Maybe that’s the way some omnipresent superpower wants to show that he has those people somewhere, who are kind of like our chatty twins and he just wanted to show us his genius by somehow making us meet each other, even if for such a short while.

However, as comfortable they might be, those perfectly fitting pieces in our puzzles, we need those who never let us fit, who just poke us, for it’s when we don’t feel we fit well enough, we shape ourselves into different people, and maybe, some of those changes are for the good.

Anyway, I just wonder, have you ever found your Jigsaw twin ?

A Little Something ...

Sometimes, a beautiful mind is all it takes 

for you to fall in love with someone
 

A thousand watt smile is all it takes

To light up an otherwise tiresome day

 

Sometimes, a little hint of a sympathetic glance is all that makes

All your fears and sadness look easier and far away

 

Sometimes a little push ,a little show of belief is all one needs

To overcome all troubles, to achieve a million dreams

 

Sometimes a tight hug is just enough

To remind you that the world cares
 

A little nod, a little smile, a little conversation as we walk miles,

Is all one needs to believe life is ,more wonderful, more hopeful, more secure, more beautiful
 

What might be a little something for you, an action made out of a little goodness

Can light up a life, can make one's life worthwhile
 

Its easy to look back and admire the tree and the thousand fruits it showers

but a little seed, a little sunshine, a little water here and there,

is all it takes to make a summer's day fair! :)

 

 

 

 

Okay, it does not rhyme, and okay, its a little cheesy, but its kind of straight from the heart so I felt like posting it. I will post a proper big article soon when I write something good enough to share. Until next time... :)

 

The Plunge

Welcome again, below is a short story I had written once, I hope it entertains you :) 

It was a fearless jump, into the pool. It didn’t matter if all he knew was to kick back the water, using the feet . It didn’t even matter that he had never done that before, or that no one was looking after him, that no float was around. He jumped into the light blue mass of chlorinated water, without thinking twice. Rahul never knew why people stopped him from trying new things, like it was a crime to be punished for. So what, if he was five years old, five was a good number, greater than 1 or 2 or say, 4. The world was strange at times, they pushed you to learn things from books faster than they allowed you to do the  real fun things. Books could be fun, but they were books after all. You couldn’t really move your legs much or jump while reading them. The only thing you had to do was shout words which made little sense to begin with. And then, repeat them till they were printed in your mind. So badly, that you had horrible dreams of letters like ‘B’ ‘A’ ‘T’ coming together and smacking you like a cricket ball. Duh! For all that work, all you got was another letter on your ‘report-card’ or whatever you call it. An ‘A’ or an ‘A+’, and people would look proudly at you. Good, at least mamma took you to the ice-cream parlor soon after. But wasn’t sliding on the garden, head first, like a superman, much more cooler? Why couldn’t people give you an ice-cream for that? The only thing you got out of it was a light smack on the head. But now, nursing the scraped knee as it pained and blood came out relentlessly, it seemed  more meaningful to not jump into pools just like that. Rahul sat on the edge of the water, very closed to the gutter which flowed with newer water, which was refilling the grand pool of Ramada resort. Panic never hit Rahul, just like fear and warning, it evaded him completely. His mind was more occupied with imagination. What story to make up for this? ‘Mamma I was moving carefully, along the edge, was thirsty, got here to drink water, but fell down.’ And then a pouty little ‘I am sorry’ to make up for the inconvenience of applying a bandage. That would do. They obviously wouldn’t know that I wasn’t thirsty to begin with. But bigger things were to be managed first. How to get to the hotel room with this pain. There could be a magic fairy nearby, surely… After inspecting every corner of the big blue pool, there was not even a little silver sparkle indicating the absolute absence of a magic fairy. Why do the best things happen only in fantastic stories? Except for the surprise gift from a mysterious Santa last year, nothing ever happened as they said in books. Not a single elf had ever turned up on Rahul’s door, no cup existed in his house, which when rubbed (or even broken, accidentally) gave a blue genie. He was scared of the big blue genie, but given that he granted wishes, he mustered the courage to rub the cup, only to get it broken, minus any genie, or granted wishes. He felt a sudden pain on his ankle. The blood wouldn’t stop, not from his knee, nor his newly discovered injured ankle.

“Hey, kid? What are you doing here” shouted a mustached uncle from the only door in the place, ten feet away. Moustaches never indicated good character, even if this uncle talked decently, he sure had the makings of a villain. Good to be discreet in such crisis. With an injured limb, one couldn’t escape such people easily.

“Nothing, just checking the pool. Beautiful. Who are you?” he said, with as much confidence as he could muster.

“I am going to lock this pool. You better go to your room. Come, I’ll take you to ..” He stopped mid-sentence, and then slowly walking up to him “ Oh my god, you hurt yourself, lets go to the doctor first” He began to lift him up. Rahul didn’t like people who lifted him up, he was five, especially by mustached uncles who didn’t even ask his permission to take him to doctors.

“I am fine, uncle. You please go. I will also go, to my room” he said, almost in anger, to which the only reaction was a kind smile. The uncle showed no signs of giving him up.

“Are you going to kidnap me? My parents will take you to jail. They will, I am warning you.” Rahul said, without any further struggle.

“No, I am taking you to the doctor. I have candy, you want some, on the way?” He offered more kindly. This uncle was strange, he showed no signs of evil, not even fear after hearing ‘jail’. Anyway, he could have the candy while he was being kidnapped. The chocolate flavor was amazing, Rahul wanted to ask where did he get such great candy from, but it was probably better not to talk to him.

“See, there we are. Is he your son?” The uncle asked.

“Yes, Rahul, my son. Beta, I have told you not to steal chocolates. And what is this…” gasp “ you have hurt yourself so badly, where was he, where did you find him?”

What a kidnapper? Gives you chocolate and hands you back to your parents. And gets you in more trouble than before. Fear now hit Rahul, a jump into the pool was not going to go unpunished. His made-up story would have to wait for some other day. Truth was going to take over his little harmless adventure

“ He was lying on the pool, I saw him jumping from the ..” Rahul gasped, he hadn’t seen anyone while he was jumping, maybe this man was an invisible evil ghost. Uncle turned towards him and stopped for a while, and to his surprise, winked. “ Oh, just forget it. He was jumping on the tiles below to get a glimpse of the pool. You know, how the pool’s entry is a few feet above ground. And he hurt himself as he fell. Some broken tiles we’ve got. Gotta repair them. “

“You better. And Rahul, come here beta, you could have told me , I would have shown you the pool. And why are you wet? Spilled water on yourself? Thank you Mr. Sharma, he’s the hotel staff-in-charge. He is a good uncle. Thank him Rahul.”

Rahul was too dumbfounded to find back his voice. He croaked a little garbled ‘Thanks for saving me, uncle” after which the elders fell back into a conversation about cracked tiles and overactive kids. In between, Rahul whispered to uncle Sharma “Thanks for not telling” To which uncle whispered back “Never ever jump into something without knowing how to get out of it. ” Rahul knew for sure, this was someone surreal. After all, which mustached uncle comes and saves you and tells a lie for you more effective than your story. This was a day to remember.

Now ,as Rahul,23 was about to jump from a height of about 700 feet, with a saddle like contraption attached to his torso, with his life hanging by an elastic cord and looked below, he remembered what the ‘magic uncle’ said years ago. This time around, bungee-jumping at the Verzasca Dam, he knew how to get back. Taking a deep long breath, he dived, as fearless as 18 years ago, just a tad wiser.

 

 

P.S. : No, I do not have a deal with Verzasca. If you are able to get one for me, go ahead. ;) Kidding. :P Let me know your comments :).

A beginning...

Frankly, I had to debate furiously in my mind as to how to begin. Its like trying to balance out your enthusiasm on seeing a blank canvas and so many colors to choose from to paint the first stroke and the nervousness to start it perfectly. Too much emphasis has been laid on starting out well. So anyway, dull and drab as it may be, I will just talk about myself, and the world and the things in between.

I’ll start with the reason for starting this blog. I love writing. The very act of putting down my thoughts, my views on anything and everything on paper, (or a word doc nowadays :P ) is like documenting a state of mind, to be freezed, which can always be reread, as time passes by. It started with attempting to maintain a little diary in school days (which forms for my entertaining reading now :P). If you really want to judge how you have matured over the years, the best way to do that is maintain a diary and write whatever comes to your mind, and about whoever comes to your mind and you will be amazed after a few years how narrow your perspectives were, and in some cases, where your instincts were bang on. Anyway, so I continued writing a bit, whenever inspiration struck, poems, few short stories here and there and there’s a point when you want to express just for the sake of it. For that feeling of liberation. So I decided to write this blog.

About what this blog is going to be, I had a dream last night about getting an invite from TheOatmeal for co-authoring with him. Kidding. Really, no. But statistics matter to me, so yes, I do expect it to have good readership. I will try to make it humorous (or just post random comics from Garfield, trollface, etc. if I cant come up with anything :P ) , motivational ( even though I need more motivation than you do), cool, smart, super awesome. SO awesome that you would require a rehab to regain from the effect of its awesomeness after reading the posts. Jokes apart, just stay tuned, keep reading, more than that, keep commenting, and treat this as my offering you the wand to my pensieve :P. Until next time, adios. :D