They came to her to know what the crystal revealed. She blew the smoke away and told ‘em what their souls betrayed.— The Gypsy - I saw her in my dream once. Drew her from that vague, visual memory. Pretty close to how i saw her - her countenance is clear as the crystal behind which she sat. The settings were South Amercican and she seemed to have no history or concern for tomorrow. Everyone loved her, her mystery - she hated it. But the more she tore away from it, the more it sucked her in.Who knows, i might meet her some day on one of my travels around the world. :-)
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They came to her to know what the crystal revealed. She blew the smoke away and told ‘em what their souls betrayed.
—

The Gypsy - I saw her in my dream once. Drew her from that vague, visual memory. Pretty close to how i saw her - her countenance is clear as the crystal behind which she sat. The settings were South Amercican and she seemed to have no history or concern for tomorrow. Everyone loved her, her mystery - she hated it. But the more she tore away from it, the more it sucked her in.
Who knows, i might meet her some day on one of my travels around the world. :-)

            Drops of Sunshine This morning, mom gave me a bowlful of wet daal (lentils) to spread out for drying. I quickly evened out the cloth to host its guest while the relentless sun bore down on me. As i cursed the merciless ball of fire, i tilted the bowl to let the grains fall out - and that’s when my eyes jumped to attention.I saw the pearl-sized, sprightly sparks fall down in a graceful flow of fluid light. A stream made up of tiny bits of gold, trickling through my hands, the glow permeating me and letting a smile spread across my face. Merciless? Nah. Drops of happy sunshine, anyone? :)
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            Drops of Sunshine

This morning, mom gave me a bowlful of wet daal (lentils) to spread out for drying. I quickly evened out the cloth to host its guest while the relentless sun bore down on me. As i cursed the merciless ball of fire, i tilted the bowl to let the grains fall out - and that’s when my eyes jumped to attention.
I saw the pearl-sized, sprightly sparks fall down in a graceful flow of fluid light. A stream made up of tiny bits of gold, trickling through my hands, the glow permeating me and letting a smile spread across my face. Merciless? Nah. Drops of happy sunshine, anyone? :)

The Almond in the Dark

This evening while in the middle of a household chore i found myself standing in semi-darkness. At that moment, my mom came towards me with her hand extended and popped something in my mouth.

My brain: “Unidentified object discovered within the premises of the mouth.”

I rolled the tiny thing in my mouth to assess it’s size and shape.

“Hmmm. Slightly bigger than your thumb nail. Sorta like an American football with one end slightly pointed.”

Poked it with my tongue to feel its texture.

“Coarse, ribbed. Uneven.” 

*1 second.. 2 seconds..*

And then by the third second having finally recognized it,

“Aah! An almond it is. Plain and simple.” *drops guards*

crushed it between my teeth to let its taste flood my mouth within a micro second.
—

Now imagine a scenario where I’d actually seen (and hence recognized) what i was ingesting from my mom’s hand - that 3 second gap dedicated to cognizance would have been eliminated and my brain would have jumped straight to the tasting.

In other words, that until i hadn’t entered a territory of familiarity, my experience of tasting would have been on hold. So crucial was this need of knowing and the resultant comfort, that i delayed the actual relishing itself.

                                            Labeling > Experiencing

Come to think about it, isn’t that what our default stance is during any activity that we undertake? We seem to have got it wrong. Shouldn’t it be the other way round?

I do not understand Boredom

I just don’t. It’s one of those mysterious phenomena which my faculty feels handicapped in comprehending. I see many people deal with, but don’t understand how they do it. I hear people complain about it daily, but don’t understand their language. I read about people dealing with it, but don’t understand their words. I listen to people talk about it, but don’t understand how i can be part of that conversation.

Yep, i do not understand boredom.

Not when we have a cosmos, alive, thriving and expanding each second. 

Not when each moment comes entrapped with the potential of doing something not attempted before or reattempting the old, differently.

Not when each of you who’s reading this has access to the demi-god called Google.

Not when at least one of your five senses are functional and allows you to interact with the world around you.

Not when each second at least one new life, a new story begins somewhere on the globe.

Not when we are still discovering new species, new lands and new skills.

Not when just one musical instrument demands a lifetime to be mastered and still need more time.

Not when some researchers tells us that we use less than 10% of our brain’s original capacity.

Not when a butterfly’s flapping of its beautifully intricate wings causes a violent hurricane thousands of miles, many weeks away.

Not when each kid knows that her mother’s kitchen is a private, fun, chemistry lab.

Not when there are ten different roads you can take to reach your office.

Not when our wardrobes hold clothing for more than one type of season.

Not when we live in a galaxy so vast that our brain will burst at its seams trying to envision its expanse.

Not when i can hold a book in my hands, read it on my kindle, borrow it, lend it or pass it on.

Not when three colours can give birth to a million other colours and a zillion shades of those million.

Not when we are still asking “Why are we here?”

Not when i’m the owner of one of the most complex, ingenious and efficient collection of systems - my body.

Not when i can watch a scratchy video of the Wright Brothers when they first conquered the skies.

Not when a small box can capture light on a piece of paper permanently.

Not when i can make mistakes. Endlessly.

No, i do not understand boredom. Now, do you understand me?

Weeding Life

Our life is our garden and we are responsible for what grows within its premises. We own the health and rigour which engulfs this space. The garden comprises of entities, animate or inanimate, and their associations, deep or short-lived. Each of these serve us a purpose, whether utilitarian or aesthetic, intellectual or emotional, and more. 

Time moves and so does this network of inter-dependence. The garden will need change. We’ll have to facilitate that change or risk losing it altogether.
And when the wind of change quietly sweeps through our nurtured enclosure, we need to quietly weed each patch by examining everything (possessions, relationships, habits, perceptions, routines, lifestyles - you get the drift) through these two questions:

  • Do I [still] need it?
  • Does this [still] add value to my life?

The tree which gave me shade in my summer might now be blocking the sunshine in my winter. Do not judge the relevance of today with the worth served yesterday. Similarly, do not cling on to what you hold dear today, for it may need parting tomorrow. And this weeding needs to be done regularly, because, like it or not, life changes regularly.

Pretty regularly.

Post this revaluation, we need to act upon the wisdom gathered and remove the unwanted - after, of course, paying it due gratitude for the indispensable service rendered; for ingratitude is poison for the garden. Yank it, nip it, prune it or burn it. Do what needs to be done. Because if we don’t, we risk losing/damaging the wanted ones, risk withering our garden.

Making the whole world blind - how Punishment is the front end of Vengeance

My eyes roved over the humble, whitewashed veranda dotted with narrow doors to all the classrooms, now reverberating with the rote chanting which haunts most Indian government schools. Just then, three girls with somber faces tramped out of one of those blue, wooden slits. The exit was clearly in adherence with a punishment doled out by their teacher, who with the power vested in her, was trying any or all of the following:

  1. To set an example for the entire class. “Do this and i’ll show you what can happen.” This to the point of being a telishment.
  2. To deter/prevent any repetition of the misdeed in question by the offenders, current or potential.
  3. To retribute and restore ‘justice’ within that social space.
  4. To nip the formation of any “bad behaviour” and model the offenders into ideal wards.
  5. To just get rid of the unwanted elements from the room instead of wasting her energy/time on dealing with them.

And then, i thought, there’s vengeance.

“The infliction or imposition of a penalty as retribution for an offense.”

AND OR

“Punishment inflicted or retribution exacted for an injury or wrong.”

While the first one is how the dictionary defines “punishment”, the latter relates to “vengeance”. Little surprise there. A play of words, but the marrow remains the same - an eye for an eye. The tit-for-tat-ness. Err, did someone say “justice”? “Moral correction”? “Molding of character”?

Nice garbs, i say.

The only basic differentiating factor is that vengeance when combined with authority, official or inherent, morphs into punishment. And this stamp of authority by an individual, group or other entity, is but a pleasure dose to the ego, a reassurance of control over others, and a desire to maintain things in a certain way (read: your way) and bestows an attestation upon the rightness of the judgement. The puppet of punishment dances on stage, while vengeance pulls the strings.

Vengeance seems to explain more about the motivation behind punishment than any of the seemingly validated reasons. The epidemic of this exercise has permeated our lives in all spheres (the most heatedly debated one being our legal machinery for justice), including and up to our most intimate relationships and the celestial ones, too (read: If you don’t say your daily prayer, the hottest fires of hell shall await you).

But for today, i’ll concentrate my thoughts through the lens of only one - parents & children. For, this play of vengeance, like charity, begins at home.

                       image

“If you venture near the crockery table again, you’ll be sorry you ever did.”
“You’ve been a bad, bad boy today. So you shall not be allowed to eat any ice cream tonight.”
“Kids who don’t listen to their mamma, do not get to go out and play.”

Sounds so familiar that most of us would already have our audio recordings playing through our mental speakers connected to vague, childhood memories’ stereo. A dull shiftiness ensues thereafter.
But all these penalties were inflicted for our own good, right? To set straight our shortcomings, mend the rough patches in the fabric of our disposition. Then why after all these years, do we still recall it with a particular dread?

The answer, i guess, lies in all these being very base acts in vengeance. And as kids, our highly sensitive, yet under-rated, perceptions saw through this camouflage and recorded what actually lay beneath the surface. That it wasn’t a desire, in most cases, of removal of an unpleasant trait from us, but a latent, subconscious act of vengeance arising from various roots, the simplest ones being a breach of their authority, a threat to their sense of control over the child and a lashing out at their ego. Please, lets stop pretending that parents are above human tendencies. They are humans first, parents later. The urge to ‘get even’ is one of our most fundamental, default ones - why then can’t our parents fall prey to it? The list for the birth of this vengeance is quite long and goes up to the parents’ own childhood. That, is besides the topic right now.

Most parents and probably as many children of parents will recoil in horror at this allegation of feeling and acting upon the urge to get even with their own dearest kids. Anger, perhaps, would then strongly follow with a vehement decrying of my assertion and how am i to opine so deplorably on a relationship so sacred.

              image

All valid, all taken. I’m a ranting lunatic who tries to make up shallow intentions in every human transaction. And despite all i express, you’re absolutely free to ignore it and watch the prime time news to feel comfortable. There, are we settled now?

In no way am i suggesting that all forms & acts of ‘punishing’ are backed by intentions of vengeance. But if you look at it closely, those which are not, can hardly be bracketed under the same word. Psychologists have coined terms like positive and negative punishments (not to be confused with ‘good’ and ‘bad’ respectively). But honestly, i still see the commonality of vengeance in both and don’t see how either is preferable over the other.

So if not ‘punishment’, then what else? Lets save that for another long read post. For now, I leave you with a cartoon here which, too, can get me started me on another post altogether. For now, here it is just for laughs. :) image

The purpose of purpose - may I?

I teetered as my right leg protested the unfair load i was putting on it, while the left one hung in mid-air without a care. The arms stepped up to help and swung in wild, desperate strokes to avoid an unwanted, unpleasant, not to mention embarrassing, encounter of me with the floor. And just when i thought that a fall was imminent, the eyes moved and sought out a point on the wall in front, hung on to them and my frame, suddenly, stood balanced and as still as a predator just before it attacks its prey. Yeah, that fiercely intense yet monk-like stillness.

                                image

That was me while attempting a certain yogasan. And in that moment of achievement, a fleeting thought visited my head. Later, i sought its company again and here’s what that conversation brought out:

I thought about what helped me prevent losing my balance at that point. Turns out that focusing on any point ahead, whether close or far, allows me to maintain that ballerina-like balance. Every time i sway, i seek a point and zero down on it. I do that once, i do that thrice. And soon, i don’t need that spot on the wall at all. My body slips into a natural grace without the crutch of any external focus. 

So then, does having a purpose in life hold us from going astray, or say, avoid a pattern of faltering contentment? The cradling of a purpose, any purpose, helps direct our mindfulness. And in this process of concentration, align our entire being to that perfect poise between the ends of the inherent duality of all the continua we find ourselves moving along.

But this, is just the first step. This harmony, as comforting as it might be, is still connected to something outside of ourselves and its fate is tied with its movement. The chord has to be cut. This state of equilibrium has to become a natural state to us, powered entirely by the forces within.

For that to happen, this exercise of latching on to a goal to hold sway, has to be undergone again and again, until it slips into our system and amalgamates with our intrinsicness; starts flowing as part of our organic progression.

I’d said that this is only step one. To what? Step one on the way to nothingness, a state of unmeditated being. The opening stage of our evolution of awareness. Once the bridge to the external has collapsed and we two stand on our own, this consciousness becomes ingrained.

First you make it, then you break it. Just so you can stand still.

And that, i think, just might be the purpose of purpose for us. Do your life experiences concur with this?