Now that you are on my planet, might as well explore ! Dive Deep !

WELCOME TO MY WORDS-WORLD !

To Learn….To Unlearn, 

To Know…..To Ignore,

To Remember….To Forget.

To Explore Beyond…To Search Within !

Through my blog i wish to share my thoughts about Life…….Life which is a rich canvass, a vibrant tapestry of infinite emotions n feelings having myriad colours, shades n hues…..scenes, scents n sounds…..overpowering the senses…filling the soul….drowning the very being ! 

My writings also reflect me, my identity, my character, the essence of which is captured so beautifully in these lines of Henry David Thoreau:

“….to front only the essential facts of life, and see if i could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when i came to die, discover that i had not lived.

….to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms. “

The picture i present here is both..the Sunset and the Sunrise…and everything else in-between that you can imagine! Same with my writings. To put it succinctly through this modified quote:

“There are things said and there are things unsaid, and in between are the doors of perception”

Hope you will enjoy the adventures and the flavours.

Keep coming back for more !

The Terrific Three & One More

I am talking of the times when we shaped our bottoms as bells, had bodies like bamboo, the length of our hair confused strangers about our gender, and people patted our shoes mistaking them to be exotic breeds of Bhutanese dogs.

While exploring “Niru’s Nest” (my college time 4 ft. high study in the middle of the staircase—you have to bend like a Japanese to enter and remain), I found the good old “Brother” snuggled among cobwebs of memories. Dusting it brought the old times alive.

 We had acquired this “4^th brother”—the Made-in-Japan portable Typewriter for Rs.1,200/-  – when we set up “Systems & Appliances” in 1979-80.

Lifting Brother’s cover opened the flood-gates of nostalgia—memories of our work, struggles, tenders, trips, competition, comparative-statements…But most of all it’s the people with whom we forged life time relationships—customers, company executives, and our dedicated staff.

Arun, Pradeep, and myself—whom the then SP (Communications) Mr. Dastidar called  “the three musketeers”—were maverick go getters. Novices—but audacious with a “never-say-die” attitude—we  won many a business battles against well entrenched stalwarts such as SPML (no disrespect meant). How could we ever be defeated when Arun could convincingly communicate to the DIG-Communications to name the humble fan as “Equipment Man-Cooler”, and Pradeep could count truck-loads of PVC Pipes late at night without a torch or lantern in the remote fields of Kharupetia unmindful of bugs n bites.

Doing full justice to our name, we sold every system and every appliance—electronic,  electrical, and mechanical—from computers to World War II vintage morse-keys—to every conceivable organization, institution, or department, catering to humans as well as animals, in every state of the north-east India.

When I coined the name “Systems & Appliances”, most liked it, and the jealous ones had a grudging  admiration. Influenced by Ayn Rand, I named another firm as “20th Century Business Corporation”, but it was out for a duck.  Enamoured with the ‘Stardust’ magazine’s creative of a stylish cat smoking a slim cigarette in a slender holder, I named yet another firm: “Super Cat Systems”. The Super came a cropper, and the Cat didn’t even mew, forget pawing some mice for us.    

Cat Pic Credit: Stardust Magazine, India

Friends, cousins, and customers often came calling to sip our special tea and bite into ‘Parle Monaco’ biscuits at ‘Systems’ (‘Appliances’ always silent n implied). We also seduced them with the prized first-day first-show tickets of bollywood movies running next door in the Meghdoot Picture Palace. My dear friend Bimal Barjatya, who left us long ago, simultaneously sipped chilled ‘Fanta’ from a straw tucked in one corner of his lips and steaming tea from a straw in the other. While a visitor’s jaws dropped 6 inches in awe watching the spectacle—we endured the expensive idiosyncrasy, but insisted on a repeat performance every alternate afternoon.

The Brother—whose keys we banged when frustrated and caressed when happy—has witnessed it all: our moments of glory and gloom, wins and losses, highs and lows. Some of these it had put on paper, others it left to be etched in memories.

This Brother also realized how different we three brothers are from the way we hit its keys. But it also knew—that differences define us as individuals, that differences don’t diminish our love—which, at times, can manifest in pics so very embarrassing.

Of Dreams and Reality

While sipping black tea at office, a colleague mentioned that his Mama—maternal uncle –buys a lottery ticket every three months and keeps it under his pillow till the result is declared. Mama has been doing this for ages. My curious colleague asked him why he kept on buying the lottery when he never won it. Mama confided that it was no ordinary lottery ticket—it was the ticket to his dreams. By paying a paltry Rs. 10/-, he bought and enjoyed his favourite dreams. He imagined living and fulfilling his desires for 3 months, and then entered the next cycle of another dreamy-state, and then another…

I was put to thoughts—no harm day-dreaming—whether we buy, borrow, or steal our dreams. “Khayali Pulao Pakana”* is ok, if it doesn’t give indigestion to us and others. It’s fine if “Mungeri Lal Ke Haseen Sapne”** lull us into feeling pleasure and “all is well with the world”.

Some dreams we realize, most are shattered, a few turn into nightmares.

While we snore, the rapid eye movement transports us from the realm of reality to the world of fetish, fancy, and fantasy. We escape the mundane and embrace our unconscious desires. Freud’s interpretation and Jung’s expansion tell us—dreams reveal our hidden truths; thank God we alone encounter our embarrassing entity.

What is life without dreams? Like laughter, is this another unique faculty that separates humans from animals? Some dream for themselves, others for others—as immortalized by Martin Luther King Jr. in his “Dream Speech”.

Whether for self or for others, whether realized or unfulfilled—a  dream which gives me hope and something to yearn for, a dream which makes me believe in angels—uplifts the soul. Spirit soars, and sleep-walking I hum: “I have a dream, a song to sing…”

*“Khayali Pulao Pakana”- To day-dream

**“Mungeri Lal Ke Haseen Sapne”- A Hindi serial about the dreams of an ordinary man Mungeri Lal

Pic: Yohann LC, Unsplash

Bahadur The Braveheart

Bahadur has been with us for decades. No fuss, no nuances—he is no Jeeves, but our Man-Friday for sure.

Assisting the families of three brothers on three floors and managing no man’s lands, Bahadur is everyone’s favourite punching-bag. Not as stoic as Buddha, he takes it from all with equanimity—allowing just the right twitch to his left eyebrow.

He manages the garbage, grounds, and the grimaces. He drives us nuts, but doesn’t bolt; and produces the priceless screw n screwdriver just in time to overcome many a mini crises. Like feudals, we shout n clap “koi hai”, and Bahadur emerges from the shadows like the ghost who walks.

He has mastered the survival stratagems—he ducks, reflects, and deflects the blame-balls with aplomb. He has stood the tests of time, our idiosyncrasies, and bewildering behavior.

Time and trials have taught him when to take us for granted, and to play one against the other. His subterfuge is not subtle. Unsophisticated—unlike the city-born and bred—he  is often caught. But haven’t his small sins and cunning little leeways—albeit harmless—resulted from our own selfishness?

He has lived more of his life with our family than his own. He has played with our infants, seen children become adults, and witnessed young grow old—while his own hair has thinned, and temples turned grey. If ever he had dreamt, he had merged them into ours long ago.

We mess with him when he is around, and miss him when he is not. Like the “unhappily married for long”, we wouldn’t leave each other…Till death do us part. Caught between “Goodbye” and “I love you”, we retire to a corner and hum the mutual dilemma:

“Can’t live with or without you” (U2);

and

”Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahin…Tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahin” (Aandhi)

A Tale of Two Sisters

Puja in pink and Maya in red—are sisters. Puja joined us a few months back to look after Maa. Soon after, Maya—younger of the two—came to help my brother in household affairs.

From the bits and pieces that are thrown at me by Maa, I learnt—their father doesn’t earn anything, is a drunkard, and drowns in alcohol every last penny these sisters bring home. Puja and Maya are two among the six sisters—born in quick succession. The youngest is six, and the oldest—Puja—is 22. Their mother lives the nightmare created by her husband day and night.

I never ask them anything, lest i dent their dignity.

From what little I have observed, both are neat in their methods and manners. They are cheerful while working, at peace when resting, and carry themselves well. They don’t complain, but are straight forward.

Puja and Maya hug or have arms on each other’s shoulders whenever they meet. Naughty Maya has an attitude. Puja acts the elder sister.

When I returned from the office today, both had an earpiece each in their ears from the same mobile cord—talking to their mother. They accepted my request for their pic with grace, Maya managing to remain still for the shot.

These two sisters and the other four don’t know what the future holds for them. I don’t know about the other four, but Puja and Maya live each day as it comes.

Puja maintains a Diary…Perhaps writing what remains unsaid. Maya doesn’t…Perhaps she is weaving a fairy tale.

Driving Thoughts 2: Mind’s Traffic

The Mind’s Traffic

Mornings—body is fresh after the shave, shower, and scent; so is the rested mind. Day’s work doesn’t tire. But the crazy bumper to bumper evening traffic on the city’s high-street sags the shirt, spine n spirit. “Una paloma blanca…” on the radio exhorts, but I am unable to soar.

I negotiate the terrifying traffic despite the horns and holes, heat and dust, smoke and fumes, shouts and stares. I spend sixty chaotic minutes on the road before I hit home. I endure the daily grind. I am sure, most of you too.

This triggers my thoughts.

Why, at times, my mind gets caught in the cobwebs of confusion? Why my thoughts can’t steer clear of the diversions, delusions, and distractions? I handle the traffic on the road with aplomb and reach the destination always. Why can’t I master my mind’s traffic, and avoid the bumps, dumps, and slumps?

Why my mind’s eye can’t see the light?

Is it because I drive my car, but I allow others to drive my thoughts—hence life?

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay 

Driving Thoughts: Humans Evolving or Devolving?

Every morning while driving to my office, I traverse a long stretch of the city’s high-street. The lovely white flowers on the road’s median sway and dance in the breeze, the little branches bend and reach out—to  touch n embrace. They uplift my mood. I ignore the merciless Sun scorching my face, and whistle to the tune of “Una paloma blanca…” playing on the car radio.

The next moment my eyes travel to the median below and encounter miles of disgusting spit. My senses are so offended, I silence the singer and the whistler. 

Disturbing thoughts cloud my mind.

Humans damage what humans build. We kill our creations, murder our heritage, and ravage our civilization.

Humans also destroy nature. We ruin our rivers, cut our forests, spoil the air we breathe, and pollute the water we drink. We systematically deface and disfigure the beauty.

We take the life out of life.

And for every havoc, every calamity that we wreak on ourselves—we blame God or Government.

Are we evolving or devolving?

We Are Strange

We act one way with the people of equal or higher social standing, and another way with the less fortunate ones.

We fight for and snatch the restaurant bill of thousands to have the privilege of paying it. We also fight with the rickshaw puller or a vegetable vendor over a Rupee.

Humans are strange. The overfed overfeed the overfed and underfeed the underfed. But at times, those who have less, give more.

Humans have double standards, Nature one. Nature only gives, never takes.

Nature doesn’t discriminate. It invites all to eat, drink, take, see, explore, enjoy—all that it has.

Nature teaches, but we never learn.

Nature has failed to change the human nature.

Pic: joshua earle-unsplash

The Insensitive Me

Staying with Maa* in confined spaces for a year now, I have seen her suffering from close, seen her reducing, losing. But the sparkle in her eyes and mischief in the smile don’t diminish. Taking care of her at night and whenever I could during the day, made me feel her feelings, look at things from her eyes, and discern what can’t be expressed.

Four months into the government job, it became difficult for me to be with her at night due to lack of sleep. Nearly a month back we kept a lady attendant to take care of Maa. She replaced me to a great extent. This has created a distance between Maa n Me. Now, I spend less time with her. I used to be with her entire night, now we go to different rooms at 9 p.m. Earlier I was very patient with her, now I get annoyed.

But Maa hasn’t changed except that her concern and love for me keep increasing exponentially.

I wonder whether the relative ease of living after hiring the attendant has made me insensitive? What if Maa was my child? Whether I would be insensitive towards the child as well? I guess-Not.

But Maa now is a child.

*Maa: Mother

Show-Offs: The Show Spoilers

The urge to show off in the status-sick overpowers their sense of right and wrong. It kills their decency, if any. It turns them into hypocrites and makes them practice double standards.

These showoffs consider themselves as God’s gift to the humanity. Their thoughts begin and end with themselves. Selfish to their very core—they don’t bother what is just, fair, and right.

Uninvited and self-appointed, they sit in judgment over everything and pronounce their ridiculous verdicts.

Under the constant spell of status-anxiety, they brag about their status symbols—such as money, houses, cars, bodyguards, and foreign holidays. They don’t miss any opportunity to flaunt their contacts with the high and the mighty.

To buttress their pomp and show, they shamelessly usurp public property, appropriate shared facilities, and monopolise common resources. To achieve this, they shout you down or justify it with words false and means foul.

They yell, abuse, and threaten to show their power and status. Yet, when the time comes, they put their tail between the legs and are the first to disappear. Mean and meaningless, they have no might. They throw their weight around, but have no spine.

Intoxicated by the false and the frivolous, the fakes forever seek admiration from others coz they lack self-worth. They live a life of lies, make believe, and grandiose illusions.

Such people put you off like the stench of a rotten carcass—You want to run away from.

What do you think?

Image: Sarah Kilian on Unsplash

Live Empty

In his book “Die Empty”, Todd Henry exhorts us to finish all that is most important to us, so that we have no regrets left when we die.

This put me to a thought—what about living empty? Can I live a life empty—empty of corruption, coercion, and cacophony?

Why do we allow people to corrupt our minds? Why do we let others to coerce us into doing things we don’t wish to? Why is that the cacophony always shuts our own voice?

The answers to my questions bred more questions. To get answers to the WHYs, we need to know the WHOs, WHATs, and WHEREs—the 3 Ws which weave us into woes.

What corrupts our minds? Who coerces us? Where from the cacophony comes?

I found simple answers. The culprits in each case are the authorities, or symbols and institutions of authority. Culprit is also our own slavery to the false and frivolous. They control, regulate, and mould our minds and lives. They rob us of our simplicity, free will, and joy of living.

Not all, but the worst among the society and its organs, the government and its myriad agencies, the religion and its various instruments, the hydra-headed politics, and the media in its traditional and modern avatars are these Whos, Whats, and Wheres.

Can we break free from their shackles? Bad news. In order to exist, we have to live with most of the monstrosities, including ourselves : )

I wonder whether we can try and choose the lesser evils. Can we select a lifestyle where the impact of the unwanted is minimal? Is it possible to create our comfort-cocoons where we can live the rare moments of joy and bliss?

To steal such moments, I have tried to let go—let go of the toxic, the negative, the nonsense.

I am able to let go when I cuddle the child in me, bring it out more often to play with me. The child in me, then, surrounds me.

In sunny winter mornings, I put my head on the dew kissed grass and leg up in the air, smile, and whistle the signature tune from the Clint Eastwood masterpiece: https://youtu.be/LdLQf1Ef9Ns

At such child, whistle, and leg-up moments, ‘The Good’ stays with me, ‘The Bad’ and ‘The Ugly’ leave.

These moments I live empty— free of cobwebs, clutters, and complexities… So empty, so light, so buoyant.

I live these empty moments every moment I want.

I think I can die empty if I live empty.

What do you think ?

Pics: “Live Empty” Moments