Little Things..

A child always dreams of growing up. The day he/she moves from primary to high school, from pencils to pens, from ruled papers to blank copies, from knickers to jeans, etc he/she is one more step closer to this transition. I remember the day when I held my first fountain pen. I felt so grown up and wisely and worldly mature. All that mattered at that point was growing up and seeing the world and now that we are grown up all that matters is going back to those blissful days of oblivion. Just the other day I got down from the metro and accidentally took a longer route to the entrance. And found myself in a passage full of drawings. I was dumbfounded for a moment and couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to those drawings. All of them were drawn by kids between the age group of maybe 9 to 11. And they were beautiful, portraying how much we have when there are millions out there in this nation who can barely afford two square meals a day. The thoughts gone behind the drawings humbled me and I started recalling all those painting competitions my mother would drag us kids too.

As I stood there gazing at the hundreds of pictures I looked around to see and was stunned to notice no one but myself standing there and gazing into the pictures. The crowd hurried by in a rush, pushing each other in their haste to reach the exit as soon as possible. None seemed to be aware of the drawings on the walls; some would gaze with blank looks and then hastily look away as if those drawings would infect their minds with poison. Adults seem to forget and appreciate the small things in life; the nostalgia of childhood memories, the beauty of gazing into the night sky, the joy of being childish at times, of spending lazy weekends having breakfast in bed, of tripping and falling and getting up again, running around the playgrounds chasing friends, blowing bubbles and acting crazy at times. No one can even comprehend of finding peace and beauty in a metro station and very few people look out for it. We rush through life like zombies struggling to survive and prove ourselves. Make impossible wishes, look out of the window of the bus when going to office, go on a painting spree (even if you are terrible at it) and help make someone’s day worthwhile. Because in the end you do not want to leave this world with regrets; you want to take great memories with you and make your presence felt even after you die. You want to live on in the little things that bring joy to the people you love; in the garden you built for the kids to play around, in the hammock u made for your wife to lie on, in the photographs you took on a family vacation and the friendship you so willingly gave to those who needed it. Because all that matters in the end is not to become an insignificant figment in someone’s memory; what matters is living on in their hearts.

Mirages...

The human nature is a complex study, a finely spun web intricately woven so that all threads are interlinked and entwined. Defying all caution it is almost always judgmental of varieties in its domain. Since my childhood I have often heard that we all leave behind an image when we interact with others. This image is a joint culmination of our actions, beliefs and presentation. Living in Kolkata has been a revelation in many ways as it presents a wide variety of human natures to study and judge. The first impression is like a mirage; a delusion we are led to believe as per the object wills us to. This delusion can be powerful; a shallow person at first can seem to have surprising depth and we may be swayed to believe a dishonest man to be the most honest man ever existed. We pass through life mostly holding on to this mirage as most people walk past leaving behind nothing but a delusion. As soon as a little intimacy is encountered, the true nature starts unfolding.

Let me give you an instance. Last August I met an elderly man, solely devoted to his religious cult and believed to have forged an image of a benevolent benefactor to many. Tall and impressive he strikes instant respect in his devotees and sways them easily with his beliefs and views. Such a religious and pious man can hardly try to exploit victims but as time passed I saw another side to this man. This man is fanatically obsessed with money, making unjustified demands on people whom he believes are unlikely to protest. The image I had of him was a mirage that hides a more human side to his nature. As time ravels we become familiar with both the good and bad within. These revelations are often shocking and damaging. Travelling by train I have often encountered helpful people, rude people and people who are not bothered as to anything besides themselves. We pass through life with these mirages; touching just the tip of the iceberg as we sail. But we do stop at times to sit down and try to break the delusions we live with. This is when we develop bonds for life; friendship, love, enmity, admiration. . We look for compatibility in this variety and develop bonds as per our needs. It is our nature to seek company. It is our nature to seek emotional attachment. This is what I believe makes us so unique, the ability to feel and analyse and hold on to the bonds we so intricately develop. These bonds are for lifetime; it is like the glimpse of an oasis in the desert. Mirages give you hope, oases give u the elixir needed to live. We humans are beautiful and complex.In our own way we are  intricately linked to each other like threads in a vast seemingly endless web called life. 

Middle of the Road... (The Indian Middle Class)

The lower Indian middle class is an egoistic lot, priding themselves on small great achievements that are insignificant beyond survival, celebrating small joys and anguishing in the face of harsh reality. They walk with their heads held high, drown in debts for the sake of their children and hope for a sun filled day tomorrow. Mediocrity and the middle class is a tough combination in this rat race. It is all about sacrificing your soul for the sake of survival in a country like India for the meager opportunities that are handed out in infested bowls by the government. So I see this guy who fights in an unknown city for survival, quietly tolerates mean insults from relatives for taking up space in their apartment free of cost, laughs like a carefree bird, loves music and gets criticized for indulging in his passion and studies for the sake of a job. I see a girl crying alone on a terrace for her father cannot afford to give her a free independent existence, who survives on the money and insults of her benefactor and breaks all rules to be with her friends. I see a friend trying to make their lives happier by indulging them whenever he can, lying to his parents to be with them, flirts like a dashing young charmer and forcing his friends to study when all he does is play games. I see another love sick puppy who cannot think anything beyond his girlfriend and cares for his friends like they are his own brothers and sisters and cares selflessly for them. They refuse to loan from each other and give away willingly after eyeing each other rather impishly. All they want are jobs, money and a shelter of their own. All they want is to make their parents proud. All they want is to scream at their parents for giving off free advice.

The mother toils at home, is worried sick for her kids and the father waits for the day when he can rest awhile after his children take his place of responsibility. He walks with his chest wide when his brilliant child scores a 99% and admonishes when his dull son keeps playing the guitar. He follows the budget closely and swears at price rise, while his wife visits all the temples and offers prayers for the well being of her family. Both constantly worry about money and feel low when they cannot fulfil the demands of their kids. The month ends are terrible with nearly no money, the women are at their meanest and the men at their worst. But these are respectable people, who value virtues and discipline, and celebrate joyously the little beautiful things in life. They criticize the government, watch cricket, consult literature and the arts, worship thousands of Gods, are easily brainwashed when it comes to religion and are proud to be Indians. Optimism is their ‘middle’ name. So when you look at the colours of holi you see the radiance and joy of this class, when you look at the diyas of diwali you see their hope, and when you look at their Gods you see a reflection of their faith. For they believe that in the end all turns out well. In the end all will and must turn out well.

Real Happiness........

    Real happiness is found within...

    To me, these words hold the greatest confusion, words that never really made any sense. You could attach so many branches to a tree, so many worldly or spiritual meanings to a citation. All my life I have searched the answer to finding real happiness. Why does a woman seek solace in shopping? Why does the play of the cold wind soothe the hot tears on your cheeks on a winter night? Why does a man in the city seek the peace of countryside?  Why does the cobbler dream of making it big in the city? Can a weary man who rides the rickshaw hope to sit on the back of one?

    Stumbling through the journey of life, we have wanted different things at different points in our life. To the teenager who grew up facing the rigors of being thrifty, money was the key to happiness. When the man had money, he wanted a wife. Then he wanted a car, a bungalow, kids, a trip to Cape Town….. But lying in a hospital bed at the age of eighty-two, staring absently at the ceiling fan, he realized all his life he never devoted time to fulfilling the one big dream that got lost along the way-photography. He recalls going around clicking pictures of everyone with the toy camera he got as a present on his tenth birthday. Can he die a happy man? I believe no.

     God is a real prankster; his jokes are soul-threatening. He filled our life with choices and choices, the mountains and the plains, the hills and the valleys, the oceans and the ponds, the sky and the sea…. And left us alone to get lost. We want everything. But we never really stopped to jump down from the express and sit and wonder and hear what the heart inside had to say. Did it want the ocean or the pond? The ocean is vast and full of wonders but the pond is familiar and warm. We want everything but we can’t have everything; and when we can’t have everything we learn to treasure the things we have. You may quickly cross the river to see the beautiful peacock dance on the other side of the river. But you may easily forget the nightingale waiting patiently in your garden for you to return.

    Some books fill you with joy, a sunshine that radiates through your very being. Cause happiness is infectious. Be a child again. Cry for the things you can’t have, roll on the floor laughing, fight for the things you love and want, be stubborn, get mad with anger and run after the butterfly screaming with joy. Cause you only listen to your heart when you are a child. Real happiness lies within? I guess I’ll know someday….when I have stopped being an adult.