I am becoming too predictable for my own good. It has become imperative that I write every time I fly. It's mostly because my mind runs at a 100 miles an hour when I am alone. It's really hard to keep it thinking one thought. There's just so much to assimilate, so much of the present to record, so much of the past to rewind and play, so much to erase to ring in the new.
Why do we mortals become philosophers when we are flying, at the beach or on vacation? Anything and everything seems possible and our agenda includes conquering nothing lesser than the world itself. And the same locations bring sadness perpetuated through nostalgia, the lost and the freed. It's almost like we fill our lives with so much just so that we aren't surrounded by silence and complain when there is no peace and quiet. We set ourselves up for something that is either painful or irksome at the very least.
Among all the relationships I share with the people around me, extremely precious are the ones that make me think. Such people are so enriching, they bring so much to my life and what I can give back is but minimal. These folks, just by being themselves, input so much content into the eclectic stuff I put out in these blogs.
One such thought process began late last night and has been messing with my head since then. Why is it that some of us get beaten up constantly? It's almost like high school never ended and life ended up being the bully. Yes, we all taught ourselves to survive and tackle the bully, for lack of any other option to react otherwise. But it's almost like some of us get no redemption. Well, let me not sound that extreme. Some of us get no redemption in certain aspects of our life.
In my opinion, each one of us has a partial win in life. Some know what they want and fight the bully, knowing all too well that it is a negotiated out-of-court settlement. Others don't even realize what's missing till it's too late. At that point, they make their peace with life and learn to live with and get stuck with an out-of-court settlement on the bully's terms. Frustrated are both these sets of people, but at least the former probably end up with sort of an upper hand.
The point I am trying to make? By now, you must have realized that I ask more questions than answer any with reasonable conviction. What do I know about solving life's convoluted puzzle? I am but a mere player who happens to think that at the very least, I must keep asking questions, keep jumping contexts (this entry just goes to prove that!), keep the bully challenged and on his toes enough to warrant a break from messing with me.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Half empty?
I am silenced. If you know me, but at all, very few things have this effect on me. I don't know how to react to what I just saw. It is uplifting, saddening, humbling and deeply thought provoking all at the same time.
It's about a couple of kids. Remember childhood? How it was, to be kids? Endless fights with siblings about things which became unimportant somewhere between the hair pulling and the scratching, waiting for that recess period which never seemed to arrive, starting the day with a clean uniform, hair in place, all oiled and in pig tails, ending the day with dusty shoes, tiny stones inside them after all the boisterous sports, not one hair strand in place as the other kids got hold of you in kabaddi as you made it your life goal to touch that line, that victory giving you a happiness that no monetary/professional gain has given you, hating to go back home because home meant homework amongst other irksome things?
These kids, they hate going home too. Not because home means the end of fun and games, not because home means dad hogging TV to watch the 8:30PM news, not because home means mom's incessant calls that its dinner time. The kids hate going home because home means the red light district of Calcutta. These are kids, born into brothels, and for no obvious fault/choice of theirs, either steadily reaching the age to join the family "line" or becoming pimps. The boys have no respect for women as they grow up to be young men, the girls swear without batting an eye lid, death is no shock and life is merely another day spent in a visibly toxic environment.
In the midst of what was a sick feeling in my tummy for 60 minutes, I noticed that these kids are actually terribly optimistic. They love their mothers, they know they work very hard to make a living, they respect their mothers, they try to love the fathers (ones that cared/needed to stick around) and dream big about their future. They don't start their day complaining about the overflowing sewage, nor are they mad at their mothers for hitting them, much less complain about traffic from inside a high-end German car on an all American freeway or cringe because the guy in front cut the line at the airport as you ignore the 2 screaming kids and all that luggage in his hand.
Identify with this, my dear reader? If so, I needn't say more. My work here, is truly done.
It's about a couple of kids. Remember childhood? How it was, to be kids? Endless fights with siblings about things which became unimportant somewhere between the hair pulling and the scratching, waiting for that recess period which never seemed to arrive, starting the day with a clean uniform, hair in place, all oiled and in pig tails, ending the day with dusty shoes, tiny stones inside them after all the boisterous sports, not one hair strand in place as the other kids got hold of you in kabaddi as you made it your life goal to touch that line, that victory giving you a happiness that no monetary/professional gain has given you, hating to go back home because home meant homework amongst other irksome things?
These kids, they hate going home too. Not because home means the end of fun and games, not because home means dad hogging TV to watch the 8:30PM news, not because home means mom's incessant calls that its dinner time. The kids hate going home because home means the red light district of Calcutta. These are kids, born into brothels, and for no obvious fault/choice of theirs, either steadily reaching the age to join the family "line" or becoming pimps. The boys have no respect for women as they grow up to be young men, the girls swear without batting an eye lid, death is no shock and life is merely another day spent in a visibly toxic environment.
In the midst of what was a sick feeling in my tummy for 60 minutes, I noticed that these kids are actually terribly optimistic. They love their mothers, they know they work very hard to make a living, they respect their mothers, they try to love the fathers (ones that cared/needed to stick around) and dream big about their future. They don't start their day complaining about the overflowing sewage, nor are they mad at their mothers for hitting them, much less complain about traffic from inside a high-end German car on an all American freeway or cringe because the guy in front cut the line at the airport as you ignore the 2 screaming kids and all that luggage in his hand.
Identify with this, my dear reader? If so, I needn't say more. My work here, is truly done.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Not a genius, barely a thinker
Is it possible to feel a sense of loss over something that is not yours to begin with? Humans are such strange beings! Blogs such as this, get any audience because people, being the way they are, never cease to stump themselves. We are a work of art, someone or something's finest pride and glory, yet, so often we manage to display little variation from chimps hanging off trees.
Some genius thinker once said, "If its absence doesn't hurt, its probably not worth the time you are giving it". That person is not a genius by any means and barely a thinker. Just someone random, walking the face of earth trying to make some sense out of a predominantly self induced chaotic existence.
Social beings that we inadvertently are, we are all wired to fit together in a certain way. Some relationships give us a sense of security, some give us pure unadulterated joy, some give us a terrible adrenaline rush, some let us fly free, and others make us feel comfy cozy. Of the above five manifestations of emotions, most of us tend towards folks that provide at least one of these to us. People who make us feel two or more of these emotions are in our list of folks who pretty much make our lives what they are, thus making them life support systems. If we are lucky enough to find that someone who can provide all of these emotions, it is a fairy tale beginning to something stupendous.
Needless to say, fairy tales find a better place in the fiction section of Barnes and Noble than in real life. In this instance, it is primarily due to the fact that it is almost impossible (dare I?) for more than three of the above manifestations to co-exist. Check out the portfolio of your relationships. You have your careless friends (ones that make you feel like superman), the adorable caring/giving ones (ones you tend to take for granted) and ones that challenge and tingle your thinking (ones that keep our lives on toes).
While each one of us stumble upon some combination of traits in every relationship we encounter in the course of our lives, which are the ones which leave the biggest impressions in our life? Which are the ones we cannot do without? Which are the ones that make us feel like the statement the not-a-genius-barely-a-thinker made?
Some genius thinker once said, "If its absence doesn't hurt, its probably not worth the time you are giving it". That person is not a genius by any means and barely a thinker. Just someone random, walking the face of earth trying to make some sense out of a predominantly self induced chaotic existence.
Social beings that we inadvertently are, we are all wired to fit together in a certain way. Some relationships give us a sense of security, some give us pure unadulterated joy, some give us a terrible adrenaline rush, some let us fly free, and others make us feel comfy cozy. Of the above five manifestations of emotions, most of us tend towards folks that provide at least one of these to us. People who make us feel two or more of these emotions are in our list of folks who pretty much make our lives what they are, thus making them life support systems. If we are lucky enough to find that someone who can provide all of these emotions, it is a fairy tale beginning to something stupendous.
Needless to say, fairy tales find a better place in the fiction section of Barnes and Noble than in real life. In this instance, it is primarily due to the fact that it is almost impossible (dare I?) for more than three of the above manifestations to co-exist. Check out the portfolio of your relationships. You have your careless friends (ones that make you feel like superman), the adorable caring/giving ones (ones you tend to take for granted) and ones that challenge and tingle your thinking (ones that keep our lives on toes).
While each one of us stumble upon some combination of traits in every relationship we encounter in the course of our lives, which are the ones which leave the biggest impressions in our life? Which are the ones we cannot do without? Which are the ones that make us feel like the statement the not-a-genius-barely-a-thinker made?
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