Keeping Thy Chin Up

More often than I’d like, I’ve been told that I view the world through rose-coloured glasses. That life is not all sweet cakes and cotton candy, and that movies and books exist on a totally different dimension from the real world. Yes, I’ve also been called an ignorant fool for believing that everything turns out the way we want in the end, and smiling like a fool while watching totally illogical Utopian movies and reading dreamy novels.  I’ve been told to take reality checks and come down from the cloud I am often found floating on.  Each time I sigh, take off my glasses, take a look around me, suffer emotional trauma, and put my glasses back on; slightly less pink, slightly less thick.

People say don’t trust people easily. They have this negative quality and that flaw. They say don’t believe in them. I say, no man is an island. We were made to live a community living, and so we shall.  And a community works on trust and belief. If people have negative traits, they also have many positive ones.  We must focus on the positive and ignore the negative till it can be ignored. If the negative overpowers the positive, only then must we admit defeat. 

People say life is unfair. They say it’s cruel and tests you till the very last breath. I say, we fall so that we can learn to pick ourselves up again, and learn humility, courage and benevolence in the process. That aside, I've learnt that everything that happens to us at a particular point of time is meant to be. What we don’t have is simply because its time has not yet arrived. And what we truly desire will come running to us when its time comes. Sure, life is trying, but it’s never unfair or unjust.

People say the world is not worth living in: there is so much of misery all around. I say, there may be misery but there is also an equal amount of joy and happiness. That misery is because people believe they are miserable. Once again, focus on the good and keep your chin up. That way, you might fall-many times, maybe-but you’ll get up each time. Colour your glasses bright, and the beauty of life will blind you.

                                           “Duniya mein kitni hain nafratein

Phir bhi dilon mein hai chahatein”

Beautiful lines from a beautiful song of another surreal, illogical, Utopian movie. There may be unimaginable amount of hatred and angst in the world. But as long as there is even a single loving heart, all the odium of the world can be overcome. For the light of the Love contained in a single heart is infinitely brighter than all the darkness of the universe combined. 

Human Parasites

I had a dream last night- a pretty magical one.  It was 21st December, 2012 and the world was crumbling. It was D-day and in the midst of all the chaos, four people-two women, two men- were flown on to gossamer white cloud. Why? Because those four were the ones chosen to live on.  They were the humans chosen to ascend into the new dimension Earth was moving in to.

Now, this may be as unreal as it gets. And I know that the possibility of the world coming to an end less than a month from now is already totally unbelievable, unreal, ridiculous. Add to that the concept of a few chosen individuals ascending to another level, and you get something that invites the worst of insults and swear words from people. But it made me think. It made me ponder the errors of our ways. The reason that our planet is in even remote danger of extinction is because we’ve exploited it so much. We’ve weakened it to the core with our incessant demands and callous, unloving attitude. We’ve made Mother Earth an Old Maid in the process of being cared by her. We’ve taken her for granted and totally forgotten about her.  Our relationship with her has not been symbiotic. We’ve taken and only taken, without giving back even a cent or the least bit acknowledging her.  We’ve deprived her of everything she had to offer and left her to die; and to die slowly, heaving  a burdened, miserable existence as we continue trying to extort even more out of her. We were made humans but, sadly, we’ve become parasites.

The main reason why the concept of a few ‘special’ individuals being chosen to carry on civilization seems unreal to us is because we believe that no person is capable enough and no person is good enough. We were all born with unhinged capacity to do good but, sadly, we’ve lost it all in the process of growing up.  The truth may be that there’s no person on the planet good enough to represent us in a new world. And, true, maybe when the time comes for this planet to fall apart-and sure enough it’ll come with the ways things are going-there’ll be no one chosen to ascend. Maybe that’ll be it. For us. For civilization.

Unless, of course, we change our ways. Now.

Silly, Twisted Life

Egos are bad. And attitudes are also bad, especially when they interfere with the righteousness of our actions. Everybody makes mistakes: by bursting out in anger, by keeping their thoughts to themselves, by pointing people out, by not pointing people out, by accepting what is said without any resistance, by arguing about what is said. There is no right or wrong in life. Everything depends on the 

way we think. What might be the perfect solution to a problem to somebody, might seem like gibberish to somebody else. In the end, it is our happiness that matters. That happiness comes by acceptance and by forgiveness. And that in turn comes by putting aside egos. A unit works its best only when there is harmony on the inside. In this small world, dysfunctional families do exist; but the truth is that their members are unhappy. They live a life choked with the black smoke of misunderstandings. The only way to lead a happy life is to not let any member of our family be stifled by this unfortunate air; by clearing out misunderstandings as soon as they erupt and not letting weeds impregnate our little green garden of joy.

A Burning World

When we say discriminating things, however small their magnitude may be, we sow the seeds of strife; seeds which hatred nurtures into saplings of conflict, trees of turmoil, and little specious flowers of death.

All of us hate conflict, and the strife prevalent between our countries and religions fills our hearts with remorse. All of us, at some point of time, some more often than others, have found ourselves wishing for the brutality of this aggression and bloodshed to be over; but to no avail.  Even as we wish and pray, a soldier dies somewhere in Iran, a bomb explodes in Pakistan, an Indian Muslim is baselessly interrogated in America, and a whole family is shot to death in Jerusalem. Reason and origins? Undocumented; stupidity, aggression, anger, violence: basic traits of human nature.

The world is a delicate place and its people are sensitive. Sensitive and it may seem, increasing intolerant. Any little thing anybody says or does has a net effect. Everything and anything affects eternity. Seems improbable, right? How could your random cursing of the Pakistani cricket team have anything to do with terrorism? Think of it this way. It’s not just one random utterance. It’s thousands and lacs and crores of such prejudiced rantings, narrow-minded facebook statuses, careless tweets, and bigoted memes and caricatures put together, that feed a mind sweltering in the fire of angst and pain, somewhere, someplace, and force it to take an extreme step.

Strife, dissension, and rivalry are everywhere. For instance, there are Pakistani hate pages and groups about India and likewise Indian hate groups about Pakistan. Dare I say, somebody may even accuse me of being discriminating because I mentioned Pakistani hate pages and groups before their Indian counterparts. When something as small and insignificant like this can arouse tension and discord, think what statements that publicly deride sensibilities could lead to. The world is full of feeble-minded people who are like sheep following a herder; people who celebrate and rejoice when a rival nation loses a sports match their country wasn’t even part of. Yes, the world is full of such people, but it is not entirely composed of them. There are people in Pakistan who hate India, which is surprising if they’ve never been to India, but there are also people who would shelter an Indian in times of need. The same applies for India.  Fair and good people may be a minority, but fair and good hearts still form a majority. Thank God for that.

Speaking as an Indian, I just do not understand where the conflict between India and Pakistan stems from. Some people will just deride Pakistan every opportunity they get and call every Pakistani a terrorist. The logic behind this eludes me. Surely, the two nations have seen bad times. But that is a thing of the past. Maybe still their government is criminal and non-cooperating with respect to India, but is the Indian government filled with angels and noble people? The Kashmir issue? Sure, it’s complicated. But we must realize not the whole of Pakistan is behind that, just like the whole of India is not behind the rapes, murders, political scams one sees in India on a day to day basis. It is just a few select people who misuse mob mentality for personal gain.

Most people know this deep down, yet they’ll willingly curse the other nation any time. People’ll say that India is a democracy and every citizen has the right to voice what they think. I say, bullshit. Democracy isn’t about every person having a voice; it’s about every voice having an ear. It’s about every voice being given an opportunity to be heard. So the people who dance to the beat of the ‘India-is-a-Democracy-and-I’ll-say-whatever-I-want-to’ drum, are just actually seeking a constitutional way of being racist, discriminating, whatever.

This is what it comes out to: if we want peace, we must first quieten our minds. Peace will never come, not in a hundred years, not in a hundred millennia, if we keep the fire of prejudice and favouritism burning in our hearts. I don’t ask that we ignore the acts of terrorism that people engage in. I just ask that we don’t form opinions and put the blame on entire nations or specific religions. I know people will disagree with me and maybe brand me a fanatic. But this is what I believe in. I write this in the hope that my words may someday change mindsets. Even if they change one, I’ll be satisfied that my efforts were not in vain. I urge that the next time you are about to mock a country, culture, or religion, be it Pakistan, Sikhism, Islam, Hinduism, darker-complexioned people, and whatnot, take a double take and think again. For every word uttered in scorn acts as fuel to the blazing fire of world dispute, while every statement uttered in Love acts as a gentle drop of rain.

Fallen Angels

What’s the world coming to? Today started out as a bright and sunny day, but got plenty of shades darker as it proceeded. As I got ready to go to class, the unfortunate news of three students of my college passing away, flew along with the gentle wind and breezed through my unsuspecting ears. Apparently, four students had got into a car accident while coming to college this morning; three had died on the spot and one was in critical condition in CMC. All of our morning classes got cancelled out of respect for the deceased, which was obviously a correct, and humanitarian, thing to do. However, what disturbed me more than the gloomy news was the fact that my fellow college mates were more concerned about making sure that their classes had been cancelled.

As you never know what’s true in VIT and what’s false, I got dressed and went to the campus. I had stepped out of the hostel into a sunny day, but stepped into campus under a gloomy sky. A few drops from heaven tinged my skin, and it appeared as if Mother Nature herself was mourning this huge loss. I made my way towards scattered crowds of people milling around. You’d expect some silence and lowered eyes, but what I saw were happy faces and all I heard were students regaling with excitement on getting a free morning.

Now, I am not implying that because some strangers had died, you should make yourself miserable or cry your eyes out. It is great to find light in the darkest situations. But, showing such disrespect and indifference! Was free attendance for a few silly classes really worth the price of three lives? Have we really become so shallow? Can we not feel that haunting sense of loss? If it is so, then civilization, as we know it, is heading towards its doom. 

Feel Alive

Nothing to write. The image, itself, conveys the message so spectacularly. Give it a try. Just put your hand over your heart. I just did it, and feel more alive than ever. Oh, it's so thrilling, feeling all that blood rush through your body!

Being Awake

I was just "stumbling" through the net when I came across this beautiful image. Come to think of it, these words are so profound and relevant. Isn't it said that we all have God inside us? Then what make us go ungodly? People may say that God does not exist, and that we are only human beings and will always continue to be so. But, wasn't Lord Buddha born a human, a mere mortal like us? How did he immortalize himself, then? Why is it that centuries after his leaving the earth's surface, he continues to live in our thoughts? Did he come across some magic? Maybe he blackmailed God(who is God?) into giving him the status of a God? No. He woke up. The truth is, God is inside us. He is inside all of us. We just need to wake up and open our eyes to Him.

Be awake!

A Lucky Kind Of Sadness

There is so much of misery in the world. Almost every person goes about life being miserable, and putting the blame on the rest of the world. I’m sure if someone were to search the earth, with a searchlight, for a truly happy person, they’d find none. It is sad, but indomitably true and maybe somewhat wise. Come on, you cannot be happy all the time. Life would lose its meaning, and your jaw would start hurting. :P

But, are we all really miserable? Or do we just find reasons to feel sad? I’d have to say the latter. While many-a-times we may actually find ourselves knee deep in sorrow, we mostly just bring it onto ourselves. Most people go around saying how miserable they are and how they don’t have this and that. The truth be known, they do not even know what misery is. Sure, they are sad, but it is only because they think so.

I am a part of the Youth Red Cross club of my college, which focuses on doing social service. Recently, we visited an orphanage. I was pretty psyched about the trip as I was finally getting to do something worthwhile. When we reached the orphanage, I was overwhelmed. I looked at the smiling faces of the innocent little children, and had this really weird, indescribable feeling as I took in the fact that the hundreds of excited children in front of me were bereft of any family. They did not have a father, no mother, no relative, and nobody who loved them with all their heart. They had nobody to wipe their tears when they fell and scratched their knee. They had nobody to bring them chocolates and ice cream at night. They had nobody to hug them tightly and tell them it was all alright, when they felt afraid at night. They had nobody to run to when the class bully troubled them. They had nobody to make them a meal that had love as an ingredient. They had nobody to caress their hair. They had nobody to show them old photos and tell them how naughty they were as kids.  What kind of a world was this? When I look back at my life till now, I see it as a patchwork of these very things. My life has been shaped by the love of my parents, grandparents, my family. They’ve given me my morals and values, and made me the person I am today. Of course, I have my individuality. But, it is they, who have taught me that I even have individuality. They’ve fussed over me when I said my first word, and when I started to walk. What about these children? Who was there to tell these unfortunate fruits of a dead tree, about the huge reserve of sweet nectar that they held inside them? Did anyone care when they said their first words? Did anyone give a damn when they took their first step? What would their first words have been anyway? I can’t imagine. Yet, I see them run around in the sand, barefoot, and scream and laugh and play. What reason do they have, to be happy? Yet, they are. What reason do we have, to be miserable? Yet, we are.

That was just the first part of the day. Next in line, was a visit to a Home for Special Children. The orphanage visit had been a joyful and fulfilling experience, having made the already merry kids’ day even brighter. I was sure that the second place we were going to wasn’t going to be fun. What I hadn’t expected was that it would be such a humdinger. The establishment was small with various varieties of plants and trees lining the façade. There were mango trees, chikoo trees, pretty flower shrubs, and what not. The air was fresh and though we were in the middle of a city, it really didn’t feel so. The interior, however, was in complete contradiction to the lively, bright, and brisk exterior. The moment we entered the building, our nostrils were flooded with the familiar hospital smell- sickly and sanitary. The building had big rooms and narrow passageways lined with windows allowing sufficient sunlight to stream in. In one room a number of chairs lined the walls. They were occupied by the children of the institution, and one look at them made the smile on my lips disappear. The children sat slumped on the chairs, with their flailing postures and blank eyes; the unfortunate heirs of destiny. A couple of caretakers periodically wiped their drooling mouths and fed them. Some kids who were capable of walking, sat on the floor and fiddled with toys that normal kids of their age wouldn’t even had bothered about. But then, it was heard to place them in a fixed age group. Some just sat restlessly on their thrones, willing themselves to get up, and screaming vague words with frustration upon failing yet again. Suddenly, the children at the orphanage seemed very lucky.

We moved around the house, only to see even more heart-wrenching sights. A caretaker sat on the floor with a baby with a cleft lip and no legs, in her lap, and a small kid born without a right hand and legs, beside her. The kid continuously fidgeted for attention; maybe he thought the kind lady was his mother. The little baby cried intermittently. A girl, not very small, sat cross-legged on the bare floor, immobile and staring blankly at the ground. Her eyes were blank. Maybe she was searching for answers. Is there anybody who could provide her the answers she seeks? A small boy, with thin legs, head tilted in an odd direction, sat on a wheelchair and stared at the wall in front of him. An adolescent girl sat in her brightly coloured cot, legs tucked beneath her, trying her best to move but failing to, groaning inaudibly in pain. What had these innocent children done to deserve a fate like this? Weren’t they God’s children too? How could God bear to see His children suffer like this? Philosophers and God men give several answers. Some say, it is to make us realize how lucky we are. I say, to hell with that. There is already enough misery in this world, we don’t need this! Some say, it is in repentance of their past life sins. Maybe it is. But, if it really is, I have a battle to pick with God for this unfair practice of His. Maybe they did some horrible things in their previous life and they have to be punished. So, I ask God, do it in that life itself. Why do it now, when they do not even remember what they are being punished for?  I, myself, would like to think of this as a manufacturing defect. Maybe God makes mistakes too. Maybe He cries every time He sees these poor souls suffering.

What hope do these children have? It is not that their condition can improve. They’ll die one day and they’ll die young. They won’t have lived their life. They won’t have had their share of happiness. What we really need are places where such children, and people, can live happily and where they can lead their lives with dignity. When we can call the misery that belongs to them, ours, why can’t they have our share of happiness?

Ask yourself, do you really have a reason to be sad? If yes, is it really so bad?

The Value Of a Life

What is the value of life, they ask. Would I rather save one life or ten lives, they ask. I don’t know, I say. Do they, I ask.

Today starts out like any other day. I wake up half an hour after the alarm goes off, go to class, sleep halfway through it, and have breakfast. The rest of the day would pretty much have been ordinary too, had it not been for the impending text message on my cell.

‘Blood needed urgently

Anyone willing to donate?’

I sit in quiet consternation at the mucky black granite table of our essentially south Indian canteen, sipping my mixed fruit juice slowly, deliberating over whether or not to go present myself to the noble cause. I find numerous reasons to put off going. For one, I would have to take the trouble of travelling all the way to the hospital where the patient was admitted. Hello, they needed the blood, not me! And then, I would have to miss some of my classes. To top it all, I wasn’t even sure whether I could sit through the whole ordeal. Yes, sigh, I am afraid of needles. I have slight Trypanophobia. Then, I try to find reasons why I should go. I find only one: it is my duty as a human being. It is my duty as a grandson, son, brother, friend, nephew, uncle. That gives me a little push. I look out the window and see a cloudy sky with intermittent splashes of sunlight. This is rare weather for heatwave city, a.k.a. Vellore, and I think, ‘What better day, than today, to travel to CMC?’ I get off the chair and step outside, but still do not call the sender of the message. Then I remember the promise I had made to myself: to never ever say ‘no’ to any “good” opportunity that presented itself to me.  

And so, I find myself standing at the hospital’s main gate. I call up the patient’s father and he tells me to come to the adjacent gate.  For fifteen whole minutes, there is no sign of him. Though the sky is shady, the humidity is high, and my t-shirt gets drenched with sweat in a matter of a few minutes. Vile thoughts bubble in my head as I stand in a dingy corner near the gate. There I was, missing my classes to save his son’s life, and he leaves me standing out in the heat for so long. How long could it possibly take to reach the gate? I wince at the cruelty of my baseless thoughts and brush them away. I was just donating blood, not doing something extraordinary. I take a gander around the hospital campus. At just eleven in the morning, the hospital is brimming with people. North Indians, South Indians, North-East Indians, and even some goras. They are there as far the eye can see, dominating every nook and cranny of the dull campus. I can safely assume that the number of people in the hospital premises at that instant is greater than the actual population of Vellore. They are different people from different walks of life. They have only one thing in common. Sad eyes illuminated by faint rays of hope. All of a sudden, my heart is filled with a twisted kind of sadness.

Just as I am about to find a place to sit down, I see a genial looking man wave at me. He has sad eyes, but a smile on his face. He hugs me as soon as he comes within hugging distance. He thanks me profusely, for coming,  and calls me a ‘great person’. That somehow manages to make me feel very small. His son’s kidneys had haemorrhaged, he tells me as we make our way to the hospital ward where blood donations are taken care of, and they need blood to carry out surgery the next week. As we are about to enter the room, he steps aside and waves his hands over some candles burning in front of a portrait of Jesus Christ, in the fashion a Hindu does when he takes aarti. Hard times have the power to change peoples’ notions of faith. I could never have imagined a devout Hindu from some small town in Jharkand to bow before any God other than his own.

As we sit in the waiting room, he tells me that he has been there for months now. He has spent lakhs of rupees on his son’s treatment, who is just three years my elder. He had been selected for an extremely well-paid job during campus placements. But, oh, the futility of it all. On the day he is supposed to be sitting for his final exams, he would be lying drugged on the operation table. I find myself silently praying that he be able to sit for his exams, only to realize the effort to be in vain. Sometimes, I just can’t understand life. It showers you with happiness for a moment and then takes it all away, leaving you to writhe in the barrenness of a drought, in deep search of pond of happy memories, which can only be but a mirage. When he apologises, over the phone, for not being able to pay certain wages, my heart almost breaks.

This really gets me wondering. What is the value of a life?  Is it less than a hundred or, say, a thousand lives? Is the pain and grief of this father any lesser than the pain of a hundred other such fathers? Are his indomitable efforts at saving his precious child, any lesser, any less valuable? Life presents such a paradox. What would you do? Would you try to save one life or ten lives, if saving one life was more probable? Does that one life hold no value in front of those other ten lives?

Change

Life can sometimes get weird.  Yes, yes, I know, all my posts contain all these big worldly words and things that you may already know. But, sometimes, you just need someone to remind you, someone to give you that little push. Okay, going off the subject! Ain’t I great, though? :P

Isn’t it sad, or rather ironic, that sometimes people who once spoke day in and day out, end up becoming complete strangers? I mean, what can explain that? Did the people suddenly run out of topics to talk about? Did they exhaust all their wit and knowledge? Did the test tubes of their chemistry explode? Sure, you might say that some people are not meant to be together, that some things are just not meant to be, and that some people just come into our lives to fulfil a purpose and they can’t stay forever. I refuse to believe that that is always the case. That holds true only when things beyond our control happen, that is, when the people become separated by distance or time. Not when their ego or obduracy interferes.

Believe me, but you may already know, when I say that ego is the sole cause of relationships turning sour. It is not lack of communication and definitely not mismatching of personalities. These hurdles can be overcome when there is a willingness to change and understand. If not, the relationship is doomed. Yes, it is.

People say that we should be ourselves and not change for anything or anything. If someone really loves us, they’ll accept us as we are. Well, that is well and good. But, is it really? I mean, isn’t it possible for someone to love us from the bottom of their heart, but not like us? Isn’t it? It is. Believe me. It’s as easy as liking someone but not loving them. Yeah, life is confusing.

Then, if that is the case, why shouldn’t you change for the person who loves you and whom you love back? Why should you expect them to change, rather than you changing yourself? Sure, you shouldn’t lose your originality or change your beliefs and values. But, can’t you change yourself in a way that the person who’d who anything for you, might get a chance to like you a bit more, appreciate you a bit better? Can’t you adjust with their little faults and give in to some of their whims and fancies? Can’t you avoid doing things that raise their blood pressure? Is it really so hard, so immoral? What you have to understand is that the person you love so much, loves you back even more. They just don’t know how to express it. They just don’t know to make you feel special. They just have a different frame of mind. Yes, they may fight with you wildly. But that doesn’t mean they love you any lesser. What it means is that probably they are not as emotionally mature and put-together as you are. So, can you please put your ego aside and adapt to your partner? I would recommend that, because knowing that some people can never change, it is better to change yourself and be happy, rather than to cry alone in bed every night. ;)

Two Boats

I am not usually one to write poetry, but with this picture, the words flowed naturally. Divine intervention? :P

Like two boats afloat

On the deep waters of dreams

Nigh and remote

Bursting at the seams

Like two boats adrift

Swaying on the rough waves of time

Hanging from a cliff

Waiting for the bell to chime

Like two boats at ease

In the water of contentment

Waddling in peace

Unbothered by the blue tyrant

Like two boats we are

Yes, you and me

Guided by a distant star

In the end we'll find the quay

Decisions Decisions

Sometimes, in life, we find ourselves under certain circumstances and situations. Like, studying a certain course, or working a certain job, or living in a place that’s not home, etcetera, etcetera. The point is that we may not always like the situation we are in. If we do, that’s well and good. Kudos. But, if we don’t, what do we do? Now, a part of us may dismiss it as a stage in our life, leading us to believe that we are meant to be here, that this is what is best for us, and that this is what is destined. The other part, knowing fully well that we are not happy, might urge us to break free. It may insinuate thoughts that assert that we are destined for greater things and that we should be doing what we love; after all, life is too short to be moping around. This creates such a paradox and plunges us deeper into the darkness of our thoughts.  

Do we listen to our brain or our heart? That’s the burning question. Do we fight destiny, take the risk, and follow our heart, or do we sensibly do what the brain thinks right? If earlier asked advice on this topic, being the emotional fool that I am, I would surely have said “Go with your heart, isn’t it obvious?”  But, now that I really think about it, I must admit that it is a rather daunting line of thought. Surely destiny knows what’s right for us, doesn’t it? But, what if this is not our destiny and destiny actually wants us to follow our heart?

Destiny sure knows how to play a mean game. You know what they say. You have to follow the signs. Destiny has a lot in store for you but it needs some work on your part. It’s just like, when you want to have a good meal, you need to step out and go to a restaurant. You need to order some food, pick up the fork and put the food in your mouth. Yes, destiny would take care of which restaurant you go to and which dish you order. *Winks* But, if you just sit around saying “Oh, one of these days I’ll eat something really good,” God alone help you. *Shakes head* But signs, or rather what constitutes signs, is not always reliable. The last time I tried to follow signs, *sighs* I ‘almost’ missed a flight. But that’s a story for another time. The question is how to figure out the path of destiny. Do we take the road less travelled, like Robert Frost did, or do we continue along the downtrodden path? How can we be sure about any of the paths? Maybe there is a middle path for us? Alas, surety eludes one and all. Surety never comes.

It cannot be guaranteed that we will be successful if we take the alternative path. Especially when we are not sure if we are any good at what the heart tells us to do, and if we will ever find any success in it. At this point, we may think that it’s better to continue along the known route. After all, who knows what the big picture is? As has been rightly said, if you were a fly walking across a drawing, all you’d be able to see is green, then blue, then yellow. Only if you got in the air before the swat came down would you see that the colours belonged to a big drawing, with every colour being just where it was meant to be. So, why shouldn’t we smugly dismiss our circumstances as being part of a bigger picture? We will never know the answer, will we? All we can do is close our eyes and take a leap of faith.*Gives a comforting smile :P*

Three Rules Of Life

Be You

Break Free

Only you are responsible for the problems in your life even if others create them: because you let that happen. Never allow others to take control. Fight. Fight, even when you can't. Soar high.

Life In Stacks

Sometimes, life is like searching for a book from among many juxtaposed stacks: you start searching for the book you want in the first stack and it turns out that the naughty little book was at the bottom of the last stack all the time!

Hungry For Politics

There's a lot of politics in politics, and politics ain't good.

Conserving Compassion

Haven't we all had those days when we are sauntering around a market, minding our own business, and out of the blue somebody approaches us with a hard-to-believe story and importunes us for monetary help? No matter how much we'd like to help the person, almost every time we have dismissed his story as incredible and moved on. Ever wondered what if  their story was true? What if their entire life depended on our help? Yes, we have all had those cruel  pangs of guilt. Then why did we not spare them some money? Is it because we are too miserly? Do we really care more for money than our humanity? In most cases, the answer is 'no'. Then, what is it that crippled us from acting as we wanted to? It is our insecurity. This diffidence stems from our incessant rational thinking. When I became the scapegoat some time ago, I remembered something my dear mother does. She has a box in her cupboard, in which she regularly deposits some part of her savings. So, whenever she finds herself in the spotlight, she does not hesitate to help. It's not her money that is in the box, as she puts it. It belongs to the needy.

The Spice of Life

We see sights like this everyday; in the markets and by the roadside. Ever wondered how monotonous a place the world would be, if it wasn't for these colourful sights? The canvas of life would indeed be very dull if it weren't for these vibrant highlights gracing it. But, isn't is so very sad that the lives of these people, who add spice to our lives, are so bland themselves? I know, there isn't a lot that we can to help that. But, please do yourself a favour the next time you walk past the little girl sitting in the picture and give her a little smile. Oh, and what she wouldn't do for a photograph!