Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I THINK I AM DEAD
I THINK I AM DEAD
I think I am dead. When I say ‘I think’ I mean I am not sure because I do not have prior experience. I can only relate to the symptoms. They are new and strange but heavenly. It seems as if I always belonged here.
It feels so light, total weightlessness. I am flying without wings at enormous speed. Time and space do not mean anything now. Like wind, I can be anywhere and everywhere at the same time. I can scale the mountains, traverse the deserts and swim across the oceans in no time. In fact I can do all at the same time. Climatic changes do not affect me. The sun closes on me but fails to burn me. Water does not wet me. I swim against the tides and reach the shores, unscathed. I climb the rocky mountains but my feet and body remains unscratched. I even ventured into burning volcanoes but felt like going through snowy rain.
I feel so free, free of all obligations and bindings. There are no desires. I seem to be totally fulfilled, contended, and complete in myself. There are no expectations. There is light everywhere, freedom from darkness, freedom from sorrows, freedom from wanting or being wanted, freedom from yesterday, today and tomorrow.
There is no fear of loss of identity. I am equal among equals, friend among friends. There is no aging, no sickness, no doctors, and no hospitals. There is no ignorance, no students, no teachers, and no schools. There are no rulers, no subject, and no government. There are no criminals, no lawyers, no courts, no punishment, and no jails. There are no shops, no shoppers, and no deals. There is no work, no workers, and no production. There is no hunger, no thirst and no tiredness.
I am on the Seventh sky.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
TO GIVE OR NOT TO GIVE
TO GIVE OR NOT TO GIVE
I am often in a dilemma ‘to give or not to give’ when it comes to dropping a few coins in the extended hands of a beggar. Many emotions envelope my mind simultaneously- pity, anger, frustration and indifference. Pity on the condition of the beggar, anger because he/she is able bodied and can work, frustration because it has not been possible to eliminate begging and indifference because I am so helpless. These emotions at times run parallel with the result that I end up dropping one or two coins only to repent later on when anger replaces pity. Many a times these emotions travel with me until such time I come across another beggar and then the process restarts.
I am sure most of us go through this dilemma. Some of us by dint of sheer habit drop the coins with a hope that with our little help the beggar to buy his meal and we will be rewarded for our actions in this or in our next life. Some of us think such actions encourage more beggars in the streets and it is duty of the Government to help these unfortunate people. Some resent because begging has become an organized business and profession run by hard core criminals.
Whatever, the dilemma remains.
I am often in a dilemma ‘to give or not to give’ when it comes to dropping a few coins in the extended hands of a beggar. Many emotions envelope my mind simultaneously- pity, anger, frustration and indifference. Pity on the condition of the beggar, anger because he/she is able bodied and can work, frustration because it has not been possible to eliminate begging and indifference because I am so helpless. These emotions at times run parallel with the result that I end up dropping one or two coins only to repent later on when anger replaces pity. Many a times these emotions travel with me until such time I come across another beggar and then the process restarts.
I am sure most of us go through this dilemma. Some of us by dint of sheer habit drop the coins with a hope that with our little help the beggar to buy his meal and we will be rewarded for our actions in this or in our next life. Some of us think such actions encourage more beggars in the streets and it is duty of the Government to help these unfortunate people. Some resent because begging has become an organized business and profession run by hard core criminals.
Whatever, the dilemma remains.
FREEDOM FROM PROMISES BROKEN?????NEVER
FREEDOM FROM PROMISES BROKEN???????NEVER!
Do we keep count of promises made and broken? Do we feel obliged to fulfill promises made? Do we feel guilty for promises broken? I think we are never free of the promises made but not kept.
There could be a long list of promises not made good. We simply have to prod ourselves and honestly take stock of false promises made for one reason or other but not kept at this stage in life, it is time to do so and make amends by saying sorry.
These promises could be:
*made to a girl/boy friend.
*wife/children
*a friend in school, college or office.
*a subordinate,
*a colleague,
*a boss,
*an employer or
*a business partner
* Anybody.
Some of the promises were made only to be forgotten once the objective is achieved. Some promises were made with all intentions to fulfill but circumstances were beyond control.
Either way do we fell free of any of such unfulfilled promises? Some of these promises might have done lot of harm or injustice to the person to whom they were made. In some cases the person might have been affected badly for life.
Does something inside tell us to feel sorry? Did we ever try to say at least ‘sorry’ to that person?
.
Do we keep count of promises made and broken? Do we feel obliged to fulfill promises made? Do we feel guilty for promises broken? I think we are never free of the promises made but not kept.
There could be a long list of promises not made good. We simply have to prod ourselves and honestly take stock of false promises made for one reason or other but not kept at this stage in life, it is time to do so and make amends by saying sorry.
These promises could be:
*made to a girl/boy friend.
*wife/children
*a friend in school, college or office.
*a subordinate,
*a colleague,
*a boss,
*an employer or
*a business partner
* Anybody.
Some of the promises were made only to be forgotten once the objective is achieved. Some promises were made with all intentions to fulfill but circumstances were beyond control.
Either way do we fell free of any of such unfulfilled promises? Some of these promises might have done lot of harm or injustice to the person to whom they were made. In some cases the person might have been affected badly for life.
Does something inside tell us to feel sorry? Did we ever try to say at least ‘sorry’ to that person?
.
SELF PITY LIKE SELF PRAISE ARE INJURIOUS
SELF PITY LIKE SELF PRAISE IS INJURIOUS
Some 20 years ago, a sudden Heart Attack turned a happy go lucky man turtle. Each day was a day of self pity. It was my fault, I should have cut down on my happy go lucky way of living, I should have had regular medical checks-ups, physical activities, and exercise routine and so on. Because of my fault, my family is suffering and God forbid may suffer the worst if I am dead. The savings are not enough. Both girls are still in school, wife is not trained for a good paying job. No big Insurance policy. How would they survive? How would they fulfill their dreams? These and many such questions were tormenting me. This brought a total personality change in me. No more drinks, no more smoking, no more late parties, no more of this any more of that etc. Fortunately my employers were helpful and so were my colleagues in office. My long association, hard work, dedication and loyalty helped.
But the agony of self pity continued until this friend of mine told me ‘SELF IS INJURIOUS’. He said we should not forget that there are people in worse conditions as there are people more happy, intelligent, handsome, wealthy, and influential. I did not understand at first but when I grossed over these words, I realized how miserable I had become by continuously inflicting myself with self pity. Instead of self pity, I should learn a lesson and moved on and that is exactly what I did. Rest, as they say, is history.
There are many people who become victim of self pity and literally destroy themselves and their families. They go in depression, have low esteem and some turn to drugs and bottle.
I also feel that like self pity, self praise is equally self inflicting. I was the first example. Before that I had very high estimate of myself. I Thought I was most efficient, most effective. Similarly there are people who never tire of praising themselves for this or that achievement, their success, their wealth, their physical features, their overall personality, their family and so on. Success goes into their heads. There is this saying that “Oonth KO apani oonchai ka pata tab chalta hai jab WO kisi pahad ke neeche aata hai” (A camel comes to know of its false pretention of height, when it comes under a hill-lock”) similarly we also have false notions about ourselves. Failures test such people which they cannot stand. They too go into depression or turn to drugs or bottle. If they are lucky they meet a person who tells them “SELF PRAISE IS INJURIOUS’.
So it seems self- pity and self praise are twin sisters.
Some 20 years ago, a sudden Heart Attack turned a happy go lucky man turtle. Each day was a day of self pity. It was my fault, I should have cut down on my happy go lucky way of living, I should have had regular medical checks-ups, physical activities, and exercise routine and so on. Because of my fault, my family is suffering and God forbid may suffer the worst if I am dead. The savings are not enough. Both girls are still in school, wife is not trained for a good paying job. No big Insurance policy. How would they survive? How would they fulfill their dreams? These and many such questions were tormenting me. This brought a total personality change in me. No more drinks, no more smoking, no more late parties, no more of this any more of that etc. Fortunately my employers were helpful and so were my colleagues in office. My long association, hard work, dedication and loyalty helped.
But the agony of self pity continued until this friend of mine told me ‘SELF IS INJURIOUS’. He said we should not forget that there are people in worse conditions as there are people more happy, intelligent, handsome, wealthy, and influential. I did not understand at first but when I grossed over these words, I realized how miserable I had become by continuously inflicting myself with self pity. Instead of self pity, I should learn a lesson and moved on and that is exactly what I did. Rest, as they say, is history.
There are many people who become victim of self pity and literally destroy themselves and their families. They go in depression, have low esteem and some turn to drugs and bottle.
I also feel that like self pity, self praise is equally self inflicting. I was the first example. Before that I had very high estimate of myself. I Thought I was most efficient, most effective. Similarly there are people who never tire of praising themselves for this or that achievement, their success, their wealth, their physical features, their overall personality, their family and so on. Success goes into their heads. There is this saying that “Oonth KO apani oonchai ka pata tab chalta hai jab WO kisi pahad ke neeche aata hai” (A camel comes to know of its false pretention of height, when it comes under a hill-lock”) similarly we also have false notions about ourselves. Failures test such people which they cannot stand. They too go into depression or turn to drugs or bottle. If they are lucky they meet a person who tells them “SELF PRAISE IS INJURIOUS’.
So it seems self- pity and self praise are twin sisters.
MRS. SERIALKAR - HUMOR
Mrs. Serialkar
Mrs . . . . Serialkar is a distraught. She has not been in a position to watch her favorite Serials on cable for the last three days.
It all started with her TV set behaving erratically. First the pictures started shaking, widening, and elongating and then the sound started distorting. The net result was total chaos not in the serials, but in the household. Mrs. Serialkar had begging of her husband to buy a new TV set with latest technology but he had been dilly dallying it for one reason or the other. And then the inevitable happened.
First her husband thought it was something to do with the cable operator. A complained was duly lodged and the cable guy blamed the TV set. The TV repairer was called who said he would need at least two days to repair as it was difficult to get parts for such an old model.
Three days is epic time in the story line of Indian soap operas. The story can take any turn. It can go forward, go backward, sideways and rather anyways. Mrs. Serialkar was worried about her not being a part of the change. Her envy was beyond compare. ‘Owners’ Pride, neighbor’s envy’ was lying at the repair shop waiting for some savior.
On the contrary her neighbors were way ahead of her in moving with the change of turn in the Serials. Mother-in –Law might have cause some upheaval in the family. Who knows the SIL might have met with some accident and hospitalized? The wayward son might have hanged himself. The modern day daughter might have eloped with her fiancée. Swamiji might have predicted the fall of enemy empire.
Mrs. Serialkar is angry. She is not in a position to take interest in any household activity. The food does not taste the same now. The children are too troublesome. Husband is too demanding. Days are too long. She is no more sleeping like a log. Her ego does not allow her talk to her neighbors and share her agony. She does not want to phone her sister and get the updates on her favorite serials.
Life never was so cruel!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mrs . . . . Serialkar is a distraught. She has not been in a position to watch her favorite Serials on cable for the last three days.
It all started with her TV set behaving erratically. First the pictures started shaking, widening, and elongating and then the sound started distorting. The net result was total chaos not in the serials, but in the household. Mrs. Serialkar had begging of her husband to buy a new TV set with latest technology but he had been dilly dallying it for one reason or the other. And then the inevitable happened.
First her husband thought it was something to do with the cable operator. A complained was duly lodged and the cable guy blamed the TV set. The TV repairer was called who said he would need at least two days to repair as it was difficult to get parts for such an old model.
Three days is epic time in the story line of Indian soap operas. The story can take any turn. It can go forward, go backward, sideways and rather anyways. Mrs. Serialkar was worried about her not being a part of the change. Her envy was beyond compare. ‘Owners’ Pride, neighbor’s envy’ was lying at the repair shop waiting for some savior.
On the contrary her neighbors were way ahead of her in moving with the change of turn in the Serials. Mother-in –Law might have cause some upheaval in the family. Who knows the SIL might have met with some accident and hospitalized? The wayward son might have hanged himself. The modern day daughter might have eloped with her fiancée. Swamiji might have predicted the fall of enemy empire.
Mrs. Serialkar is angry. She is not in a position to take interest in any household activity. The food does not taste the same now. The children are too troublesome. Husband is too demanding. Days are too long. She is no more sleeping like a log. Her ego does not allow her talk to her neighbors and share her agony. She does not want to phone her sister and get the updates on her favorite serials.
Life never was so cruel!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHEN I HAD TO WALK IN MY UNDERWEAR-HUMOR
WHEN I HAD TO WALK IN MY UNDERWEAR
Before you get any ideas, let me set the records straight. It is a story of the period when I was learning the ropes at the age of 10. Those who have read ‘Bade Bhai Saheb” (Elder Brother), an absorbing story by Munshi Prem Chand would certainly laugh at me.
PremChand’s ‘Bade Bhai Saheb’ is studious and devotes all his time with books but fails to cross 9th standard even after repeated attempts but his junior brother, five years behind him, who touches books only a few days before exams and whiles away his time in sports and kite flying, but still passes out of the High School with good marks.
In my story, Bade Bhai Saheb is good student, takes active part in sports and passes out with almost equal marks if not more as his junior brother, who is two years junior to him and is in the same standard but spends more time in cultural activities like debates, acting, and music. Bade Bhai Saheb in both the stories have one similarity; they are protective of their younger brother.
We spent most of our summer vacations in our ancestral home tucked away in a village, down in the valley of the remote part of the hilly State presently called Utttarakhand. There was hardly anything enough to do in the village except trekking, playing cards, dice, gilli danda, (no English translation) football if someone was rich enough to own one or hockey played with some sticks. Indoor games like cards and dice were played during the afternoon as the outdoors were too hot. Outdoor games like gilli danda, football, hockey etc were played in the evenings.
At least one in a month we would have picnic. We would pick up our food and eat it somewhere in the forest after trekking a few miles. That was the idea of our picnic sense. The most adventurous picnic was fishing expedition in the rivulet some two miles down in the valley. It was a day long occupation. We would proceed after breakfast. It was usually a group of six or seven boys in nearly same age group. We would carry some wheat flour and vegetables (vegetables because just in case we failed to catch fish), a match box to lit the fire.
Yes your guess is absolutely correct. My position in the team was that of the 12th man in a cricket team. I was to carry the wheat flour and vegetables and also the clothes and footwear of other team members wherever required. Bade Bhai sahib was an expert in catching fish. I do not know what made him sense the fish hiding under a big stone. He would push his hands under that stone, catch the fish and throw it out towards me to catch it and put in the bag. All other team members were also good at the job. They used other tricks also. It was for this reason that they usually made enough catch not only for our lunch but also for carrying some home for the evening family fest.
This was however a very bad day was. It was already three in the afternoon and there was not a single fish in my bag. Frustration was looming large on our faces. With great effort and luck Bade Bahi Saheb caught a fish, threw it out towards me. Clumsy as I was in holding even a dead fish, the fish slipped from my hands and jumped back in the water. It was a big fish enough for our meager lunch. The loss under the circumstances was huge. Evening was approaching, as is natural in valleys.
Bade Bhai Saheb was furious without words. Left to other team members, they would have thrashed me to pulp. We all were in our under wears. He picked up the clothes and footwear, passed on to respective owner, except mine and waved us all to return home.
Thus I was forced to return home in my underwear, bare footed, hungry like all others and of course with the bag containing flour and vegetables.
Before you get any ideas, let me set the records straight. It is a story of the period when I was learning the ropes at the age of 10. Those who have read ‘Bade Bhai Saheb” (Elder Brother), an absorbing story by Munshi Prem Chand would certainly laugh at me.
PremChand’s ‘Bade Bhai Saheb’ is studious and devotes all his time with books but fails to cross 9th standard even after repeated attempts but his junior brother, five years behind him, who touches books only a few days before exams and whiles away his time in sports and kite flying, but still passes out of the High School with good marks.
In my story, Bade Bhai Saheb is good student, takes active part in sports and passes out with almost equal marks if not more as his junior brother, who is two years junior to him and is in the same standard but spends more time in cultural activities like debates, acting, and music. Bade Bhai Saheb in both the stories have one similarity; they are protective of their younger brother.
We spent most of our summer vacations in our ancestral home tucked away in a village, down in the valley of the remote part of the hilly State presently called Utttarakhand. There was hardly anything enough to do in the village except trekking, playing cards, dice, gilli danda, (no English translation) football if someone was rich enough to own one or hockey played with some sticks. Indoor games like cards and dice were played during the afternoon as the outdoors were too hot. Outdoor games like gilli danda, football, hockey etc were played in the evenings.
At least one in a month we would have picnic. We would pick up our food and eat it somewhere in the forest after trekking a few miles. That was the idea of our picnic sense. The most adventurous picnic was fishing expedition in the rivulet some two miles down in the valley. It was a day long occupation. We would proceed after breakfast. It was usually a group of six or seven boys in nearly same age group. We would carry some wheat flour and vegetables (vegetables because just in case we failed to catch fish), a match box to lit the fire.
Yes your guess is absolutely correct. My position in the team was that of the 12th man in a cricket team. I was to carry the wheat flour and vegetables and also the clothes and footwear of other team members wherever required. Bade Bhai sahib was an expert in catching fish. I do not know what made him sense the fish hiding under a big stone. He would push his hands under that stone, catch the fish and throw it out towards me to catch it and put in the bag. All other team members were also good at the job. They used other tricks also. It was for this reason that they usually made enough catch not only for our lunch but also for carrying some home for the evening family fest.
This was however a very bad day was. It was already three in the afternoon and there was not a single fish in my bag. Frustration was looming large on our faces. With great effort and luck Bade Bahi Saheb caught a fish, threw it out towards me. Clumsy as I was in holding even a dead fish, the fish slipped from my hands and jumped back in the water. It was a big fish enough for our meager lunch. The loss under the circumstances was huge. Evening was approaching, as is natural in valleys.
Bade Bhai Saheb was furious without words. Left to other team members, they would have thrashed me to pulp. We all were in our under wears. He picked up the clothes and footwear, passed on to respective owner, except mine and waved us all to return home.
Thus I was forced to return home in my underwear, bare footed, hungry like all others and of course with the bag containing flour and vegetables.
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