Simple pleasures

I have never been very fond of flowers, but always had some curiosity about leaves. The simplicity, the evenness, the falling off. They do not compete to be noticed. With flowers, you can never tell. Some would want to stand distinct amongst the crowd, some would want their fragrance to be noticed more than others. I am not really sure if they do it purposefully, but I would always want to buy leaves instead of flowers, however weird that might sound.

Eyes have a tendency to deceive us. Ears also do that. Their combination also doesn’t work very well, for I always believe the truth has three sides, your side, the other’s side and the true side. While we will always look at the world from one perspective, our own i.e., we must be able to see and appreciate other perspectives.

Many people are standing at the red light. I observe each of them closely and they all have similarities and differences. I try to put myself in the mind of the traffic policeman and see the world from his eyes, the incessant flowing of traffic, the noise of the horns, standing in the sun, breathing in the pollution. And my mind tells me the world is really very different then. I try to put myself in the mind of the beggar child across the street, I see things from his perspective, the way he has been taught that he only needs to wait for the red light and then he’s supposed to beg for money. What does a kid know? He knows nothing, he mostly follows what he is told and he will probably grow up with a set of thinking that was planted long ago. I see things from his perspective and the world is strange, it is merely a struggle to feed yourself enough to continue begging for the rest of your life. What’s his fault? Absolutely nothing. But once I switch back to being myself and judge from the angle I have built over the years, my mind says, he is an idiot.

I’ve always been impatient with people and usually thought that the way to win the race is through hate. You put in your anger and resentment to fulfill your goals. I was proved wrong. While hate can be a really good thing, love can be equally fulfilling at times. One needs to shed their skin more often than they think they should. That’s the lesson we are taught about change, but never do we realise the depths. Sometimes the important thing is not to conquer but to let the thing remain in its raw form and accept it the way it is. The pleasure is immense. Ultimately the urge to compete will die out and that thing will reveal its natural form. Once the simplicity is achieved, the purpose is served. You win with love and acceptance.

And about hate, it’s a very powerful emotion. But to master it and know when to use it and how to use it is something not all of us can achieve. We can try, though.

But the simple pleasure will always come when one is at peace with himself and with others. And while such pleasures don’t last very long, you must rejoice while they exist. The beauty will always be in the simplest of things and it will depend on the emotion in the eyes of the beholder. Always.

 

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Many forms

 

forms
Source: myspiritualitydiscourses.blogspot.com

 

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these.”

-George Washington Carver 

The reflection stares back at him. In some parts, he is worn out, tired from the dilly-dallying, a bit younger in some of his parts, like his mind, that wanders off and daydreams. It stays youthful because it is so full of hope. He closes his eyes and the reflection no longer stares back at him.

Now his mind wanders off to the lands he has once lived in. He still remembers as a child, how he would run off to play and get all bruised up, then come back home crying. He did that a lot. His mother would clean up the wound and tell him that he will be fine. Once though he gave her a shock when he returned home with most of his face bleeding. He had fallen face flat on the road while riding his bicycle. He lay there, a bit dizzy. Someone saw him and took him to his home, which was just a block away. They all knew each other since they lived in a small colony where people who worked in the same company as his father’s, all were supposed to stay. His mother panicked on seeing him and now tell him that he kept on blabbering, “I don’t want to die.” So he was taken to the doctor who said that he will be fine. They all said, “You will be fine.”

That was long ago. He has grown up into a man, matured into an adult who knows that there will be times when he won’t be fine. He needs to fight sometimes to keep up. He has to shout at the man in front of him at the petrol pump who is not ready to give way, he has to struggle hard to make ends meet, he has to give up on the books he can buy and he hopes he can do that later, some distant day. He has patience, he is tolerant. As a kid, he knew he would get what he wanted, all that he wanted.

He looks back and it makes sense. It never made any sense when he looked forward, it was as if every thought was an asymptote that never reached the conclusion, but was always close to it.

To have something, he had to struggle and yet he lost it, so many times. He gained when he least expected it.

He opens his eyes and he sees his reflection again, a reflection of who he is at the moment and not who he was. His mind will always keep the older him alive somewhere in his thoughts and that’s what has resulted into his current form, but beneath the surface, the man that exists, in his crudest form, will never really change, but only wear a new mask and take a new form, to survive whatever comes next. And he will just be fine.

Paper boats (A very short story)

paper boats

 

Shiva runs across the street to gather his friends since it has started to pour. Soon the streets will be flooded with water, just the right time to launch the paper boats and watch them in awe, as the boats embark upon a journey. They live in a small village. Their lives are confined to the walls of their homes, walls not made of bricks. What we call a Kutcha house.

Their world is limited to the walls built for them beyond which they cannot even see, for they have been told that they must live and die in the same place, their own village. If ever a man has stepped outside and went into a world of chaos and disorder, they have never come back. The elderly say that they get caught up in the cobwebs and are lost, there is no trace left.

A few airplanes pass over the village. Many children run outside their houses and jump at the sight. Some try to follow the route. They are children and unlike adults, they will always dream and not be bonded by any chain or bolt, no lock can be set upon the freedom of their mind.

Shiva, the leader of the village children sets out his paper boat before anyone else does. Hemant, his younger brother, sets out his boat, next to his brother. They couldn’t gather many children because they are not allowed to have fun until they finish their school homework. And some of them who have finished theirs have strict parents, who wouldn’t let them wander outside especially when it’s raining.

Shiva and Hemant lost their parents to the city. They left their children to and never came back. No news of them was ever heard. They were lost.

They hope to go to the city someday and bring their parents back. Some people told them that they left because they were not good children and because they deserved to be left alone. Some others said that the city engulfed them. Many people, many stories.

Shiva’s boat runs across the water, smoothly sailing while Hemant’s boat takes to the side of the street and vanishes in the gutter. He innocently asks his brother, “My paper boat is lost. Just like our parents. I think I too will get lost someday.” His brother smiles and makes him another paper boat and tells him, “So long as we do not run out of paper, you will not run out of boats. And one of them will sail and reach its destination. Some things will last and they will hold your presence, making sure, you are not lost. Never lost.”

 

 

 

Sorrow and Joy

 

choice
Source: pinterest.com

 

She sobs, tears rolling down her face
anger, sadness,
maddening rage.

But then she hears her mother’s voice,
whispering to her,
telling her, that she has a choice.

Each day will bring
happiness and sorrow
and she can let one take over the other,
she can choose to cry
or just be happy rather.

But as long as she sticks to hope
and knows she holds the key
no chain can bind her
and she will be free.

In the end,
it will be up to her to decide,
whether to drown in sadness
or take it in her stride.

It all comes down to a choice,
a choice between
happiness and sorrow
and if today she fails to make the right one,
she must remember,
there is always a tomorrow.

Everything wrong with a good book

I am not an avid reader which basically means a book can engross me only if the plot is good, the writer leaves the gap which reader fills with his own thoughts and so he doesn’t explicitly lays down his own thinking, forcing it on the readers. That’s what a good book is.

What wrong can go with a good book that has a good plot and is totally drool worthy? Well, not every reader gets excited on looking at a book that is so thick that he can’t even easily hold it in his hands, let alone, reading it in a single go. That’s what happened today. I went out with a purpose to buy a book and on looking at the thickness and also the small font, I felt a little disappointed. I had exactly that amount which was needed for the book so that basically shows that my only intent behind leaving the comfort of my quilt was buying that particular book. *Sigh*

But did I buy it? No.
Why not? Well, apart from the few disappointments the book offered me, the seller added to it by not being able to keep the book in a proper shape. I would definitely prefer ordering a book online because I know at least it will be worth the money. For a 3-4% discount, I would never compromise on the quality of a book that will stay with me, maybe for my entire life. I now know why bookshops are dying and ​online sellers are dominating the market. Or I guess it is vice versa. Apparently the online booksellers overtook the market and killed the existence of the small bookshops that were my place of solace for a very long time. The bookshops are dying and maybe there will come a day when I will go out and there will only be the big bookshops that might survive the battle with the online sellers and I will miss the peace my small bookshop gave me. I already miss it.

Many people ask me, “Why don’t you read an e-book?” I really cannot answer that question. For a person like me, technology must be there so long as it serves its basic purpose and that alone will suffice. I don’t want it to creep into my hobbies and take away the pleasure that a paperback or a hardcover will give me. Never.

What can go wrong with a good book? Apparently, a lot.

Whatever it is you are seeking

And I let myself
be drawn by the strange pull
of what I loved
keeping the faith
that it won’t lead me astray
that even if there was a detour
I will find the way
and I walked
seeking solace
and anything that will suffice
while my faith flickered
knowing that the hopes die
And while I walked
with the hope flickering
I looked back, connected the dots
finally knowing
whatever it is
that I was seeking
didn’t come in the form
I was expecting
and that was the best part
of my story.

Excited about new year? Nah.. I’m an adult

Decision-making is an art. When I was a kid, all I had to decide was which notebook to pick up — narrow spaced or wide spaced, which color pen to buy — blue or black, which flavor to go for when I would buy ice cream — chocolate or strawberry. That was all. But then shit happened and I grew up, became an adult and have like big decisions to make. While every new year as a kid was filled with over excitement, it has started to become more of a nightmare. Though whether we perceive it as an adventure or as another responsibility is entirely on us, we have the choice.

So we are about to enter 2016. There is some enthusiasm (I say some because even if I have a lot, I would restrict myself from saying so and be laughed upon or just be told to become practical).

But it all boils down to decisions. I have a career to make, bills to pay, laundry to do, learn how to drive, start cooking, study, read, write and the list goes on and on. Believe me, it’s exhausting. To be jobless just because you couldn’t fit yourself into your last job and resigned is one big thing. It’s almost as if someone kicked you in the shins and is now asking you to run, to run for your life.

Stop. Don’t rush.

Think of them as your daydreaming balloons, be it career or relationships. Remember, when the balloon deflates, there is no going back. You either refill it if there’s a possibility or you get a new balloon and place it there, knowing in your heart that something has changed. But then you have to find the new one. The reason is pretty simple. It is all connected; a complex web of so many trivialities that they start to matter and you cannot do without one of them missing.

It is only after many hit and trials will you finally achieve the balance and when you do, you will be only glad about the failures and losses. They shape you. As Soren Kierkegaard said, “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”

What can you do? Learn! The best thing for being hopeless, broken, sad, is to learn. If you suck at decision making, toss a coin. They say while the coin swings in the air, you will have your answer. Romantic notion eh? No, it’s not. It is the best solution to find what you really want. Follow your heart and it will not lead you astray. Just don’t forget to carry your head and use it wherever you go. And for all other times, there is alcohol.