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Happy(???) FeetAll the love in the world can't be gone
All the need to be loved can't be wrong Oh the hearts all start sing and my heart will keep sayin Boogie Wonderland, wonderland
@ Paolo Coelho: End - Begin
“Meethi, don’t walk so fast! It’s pretty dark out there. Wait and walk with all of us.” “Its ok Papa, I know the way back home. Don’t worry.” “But there could be dogs there, wait till I come to you.” “Then come fast na!” “Wait a bit beta, Mom cant walk so fast.” “OK! You come with Mom, I going ahead.” “But the dogs! They will start chasing you!” “Where are they Papa, I cant see any!” “They are there, just around the corner.” “I am telling you na, they are not there. And if they are, why should I be afraid? I have done anything to them. If anyone should be afraid, then its them. They should be afraid of me. I am already five, I am not afraid of dark or dogs!”
She was five and not afraid. May deep down, she knows, papa is there, right behind. Or may be her five years, have not shown her, how things could change; towards where it shouldn’t have. Even when she is right. Even when everything around her is right; it could still turn bad. Sometime we fail to believe in fairies, and they die. And demons take over. Hell raiser returns.
Home-works done, the kid with the curly hair, sits on his table. Looking at the ten yard sky visible from his window, he knew the clouds were gathering. He quietly starts building an elaborate grid with the pack of cards. One by one the layers started taking shape. A few more cards left, the anticipation made the breath move slower. He tried to hush the entire room, that all he commands. A quick glance at the grey ten yards, a few more layer added to it, an air of apprehension floating. Two more, may be three… and a gust creeps in, sweeps over the table, and… gone…
While rest of his family was enjoying the surf, the kid was oblivious to all his surrounding. Sand is stronger than cards. And he has collected shells and stones to decorate. Red, green and even a few little blue ones. The house was coming to shape nicely. The doorway, windows, terrace, wall around the open space around it. The floor above was also complete. The decorating pieces fell in place one by one. Just to create a drive way.. through the wall, to the main entrance.. he looked up, tried to find out rest of the known faces. He wanted to share his pride. Wiping his sweaty forehead, he pans his eyes around, and a smile was about to break on his lips; he found them. But he felt cold on his feet; it was not smile the tat broke, the surf had silently crept up. The dream was gone… washed out… before he could share it…
Bricks are stronger than sand; and definitely more stable than cards. One by one he carried the bricks from the narrow lane to the second floor roof top. One by one he started putting them together. It was not as intricate as the card house. Definitely not half as beautiful as the sand house. But its stronger. The strong roof top wind blowing from the river side couldn’t budge it a millimeter. There is no chance of sea waves creeping up to wash it off. He decorated it with the Shiuli and Jaba. He took his cousins dolls and placed them in it carefully. A few broken branches around it, made it look a bit softer, covering the barren bricks. He ran down the stairs to call his mother, and grand mom. Asked them to leave their cooking for a while and have a look at his dream first. He ran back upstairs, to make sure its still looking as beautiful, till they come. Beautiful? It was already a ruin. Only the fleeting tails of the monkey army gave him the hint. Its gone, once more…
She told him, “You looked like an angry kid, sitting in the corner with all doors and windows closed. Cross at the entire world, silent, damp eyes, hands and mind closed.” She was right. And then she came, to open the doors and windows. The light flooded the room, sun kissed his cheeks; Looking at the silken strands, tilted head, angled smile, he stood up; stepped out in the rain; only to look back and see, the wind gushed in through the window, surf washing in through the doors, and monkey army once more running amuck. And he went back to his corner.
The smell of the smoke coming out of the soldering iron was heavenly. The curly hair head was leaning onto the circuit board, the gleaming eyes were feasting on the plot unraveling slowly. As the expert hands slowly kept putting the pieces in the exact place, soldering them neatly, like a magician he was putting together the pieces of jigsaw puzzle. Occasionally he was glancing up, to record a view of the master; pride filling his heart for this man he knew as his father. Slowly, a foundation was getting laid. Snapshots and recording of the general, who silently and elegantly took over the roles of chief organizer of kalipujo, tantra-dharak and the leader of the Prasad serving team. The person who always took pride in his innumerable broken bones, yet never taking pride in the selfless eldest son of the family. The person towards everyone looked up, yet when the time came, he silently passed on the mantle. The dependable became the dependant.
Looking at the figure smaller than his forearm, lying between his proud parents, he remembered,
Yes its shared, but its there. He needs to treasure each moment. Maybe this is one of those opportunities that life has thrown towards him. One of those small packages, with a promise of a life time.
Promises, or were they silent expectations? Unfulfilled desires and dreams, lost in the war of life. In course of delivering the “needed” and “expected” to all around perhaps the very personal “aspirations” were wrapped and tucked behind some unwanted wish list. Just lighting a small candle or hope and prayer, that maybe – just a “maybe” another eldest will take care of them. That “maybe” might have been defeated by another “maybe”. This eldest might not be as capable as the “eldest” senior. And a lot of those tucked up aspirations just fizzled away, unlike the crackers they were bursting a few days back during Diwali. That day, the mute eyes and a clenched fist proudly declared that he fought his last battle with all his heart, and came back from the brink. But he was unaware that the last battle was still left, as he sank back. And this time the face turned only to show a pair of tearful eyes, telling “Sorry kid, I tried my best. I really gave my best shot. But my best was not enough. I lost it. I don’t have another battle left in me anymore. Please don’t ask me for it!” Its me who is sorry. I failed. “Maybe” I didn’t had it in me. You deserved better, much better. I know you dreamt for that peace and love all of your pears were enjoying. And just when the youngest gave you a piece of it, the time was up.
It was a bad time. The streams never stopped, not yet by a long shot. The bottle with the blue and pink pills kept popping in and out of its place. The sales of Cipralox saw a steady growth. Many said, 07-08 was worst for a long time. I knew its just another of them. They keep coming back. 91-92, 97-98, 02-03 and now 07-8. Amazing accuracy! It’s apparent, 09 will see the change; one more fight back, another resurrection. Another beginning from scratch. Another buildup, pieces being put together, and a wait for the storm to come and snatch it away. Well, when you are in the battle and still alive, you need to pick up the sword and keep swinging. Just that the kid went back his room, locked up, closed down; this time might not be for the monsoon to come back. His mind-brush keeps painting, a welcome note for 09, come lets begin the fight!!
Claw, Crawl, ClimbFor The ERO (Eternal Romantic Optimist), the choice is not difficult, its those everyday steps in the darkness that takes it toll. He knows what he wants, his destination never sways, he keeps the snippets of memory flashing across his vision, as he keeps looking for the next step. When all his friends shouts from the other side for him to step into the light, he smiles back. This is not the light he dreams of. His light is much brighter, yet calm. It doesn’t burn but nurtures your vision.
He remembers that smile and a faint hint of smile emerges at the corner of his lips, unnoticed by all; and he starts crawling ahead again. Just one prayer in mind, “God please keep her safe and happy till I reach!” He pauses only to gather few drops of life, stored deep inside his eternally optimistic heart.
People keeps laughing at him, looking at his improbable journey, they declare him a madman. They laugh at his decision. They laugh at the path he chose. They cant see the destination he keeps looking at. He knows he has made mistakes. He knows he has swayed away from his path. He knows coming back to his chosen path has become harder. Yet he knows that’s the only way forward.
“Double or Nothing !” My opinion on "Your Opinion On: Good Deeds" - Paolo Cohelho's BlogMy Grandmom used to say, when you give someone, your right hand should not know what your left has done. Essentially meaning, when you do good, dont remember that, or mention that to anyone, as it turns into boasting and that eventually defeats the idea of doing good.
Besides when you dont remember when you did the last good deed, you will always feel the urge to do it, as you feel you have not done enough.
On the opposite note, one act of kindness in the sea of inhumane actions... does it have any effect? Does a single rose plant in a huge garbage dump has any effect? Or do we need to clean the garbage first and plant the rose only after we have cleaned?
I always said, hope is good, expectations are not. Is it ok to hope (without expecting after every good deed!), that someday, all the good act done will be rewarded by someone somewhere? Will it be too late?
What if the deed you did with a good intention and hoping to benefit someone turns out to be something totaly unwanted by the person you did it to?
What will the "Warrior of Light" do if he keeps seeing that his good deeds are having no effect whatsoever? so much so that people have started telling him not to think of doing good to others? So many questions.. so less satisfactory answers! BBRR is Back Hi Folks!! Its BBRR times once more. After deliberating and procrastinating for quite some times, finally I have put together the BBRR in a way I always wanted. Take some time out and have a look. And let those bouquets and brickbats rain freely.. waiting to see all of you there.. BBRRIndia buzz, Din and Blabber
Why cant the things be simple anymore? Remember those days
of childhood, when you always looked forward to the days when all the cousins
will come together. You play, you share, you quarrel and you reconcile again.
So easy! When you are angry you could thrash all those bushes and shrubs with your wooden sword; or pierce the hapless banana tree trunk with all the arrows you have; spin the snakes by their tail, pick n throw the frogs at will and chase the shadow of cloud through the open fields.
That buzz in the head, just cant keep it down. As soon as the commercials appear, it grows into a roar from the din. So many thoughts; but they remain just at that. The moment I thi8nk of putting them together – swoosh… thin air. Thought of jumping up to the keyboard and hit them as fast as I can to trap them before they pull up their Houdini act.
Never thought I will catch up so many movies. Hmm .. can call it a true sabbatical. Only if I could junk the feeling that keeps nibbling and those uncontrollable showers. Last time I caught so many movies of my like was after the higher secondary and before the college. In those two months, partnering with the tall guy, who was my best friend, (and am sure still is!) But they were not one tenth as many mush flick as I do now. Someone changed it, and vanished. But I keep watching them and keep feeding the din n buzz in the head.
There you go; the rain comes again. And I am not talking about the ongoing shower that’s indoors. Why is it this year, its raining so much? Or is it that I am seeing it more this time around? May be it always rained this way, and I never noticed? Or is it telling me that no matter what, some things will never change? Like my longing; like the fragrance I keep smelling behind my back, and the hand that kept clutching mine in the darkness of night.
Whatever! So what I was saying? Why aint it that easy anymore? When you knew if your eyes were moist, sooner or later someone will come up, hug you and ask, and tell you that everything will be fine. That time, when you know, that if you miserably lost the match or got beaten up by the bully, or all the friends were angry on you and didn’t take you in their game, you can always run back to you mom, sink your head in that soft cotton sari covered lap, and cry your heart out. And nobody will scold you, no body shout back at you and explain you, show you the way out of the dark.
Ya ya, I know, I have been told enough times now, that I have not kept my side of the promises; SO I need to live this one out. So the green bottle with blue and white pills can only come out from the pocket to the hand, and no further. WHtaever may be the situation, I need to show, how strong men are supposed to be, and fight it out. SO what if it takes the entire life, fighting. Always be just there, but never actually. Good enough just to see it. And be told how envious I am, and not fit for anything and all that. But I still need to survive, may be just to show that, after all I did keep my side of the words, and expected the same on the other side. Yeah that’s my fault, expectations, and hopes and dreams. Let kill some dreams tonight… I do believe, I do - I do
Yes I do believe. I believe in fairies, I believe in Santa Clause, in Peter Pan, Elves, Prayers and all that gives hope. Sitting in this chair, watching the incessant rain outside my window, that’s my only hope. I want to belive that when it rains, someone, somewhere IS there who is feeling something good about me. Someone loves me. Anyone who is a believer can not be unloved.
I do not know the wrongs that I have done; I sincerely have
never tried to deceive or bring any harm to anyone. Have always trusted my
granny when she told me the stories of “madhusudan dada”, the little Krishna;
I always believed that if I do good things, someday, might take some time, but
still someday I will be rewarded. I know when I want to talk to her, she does listen. May be I am yet to learn her language to know what she tells me back, but she talks.
Its my only ray of hope; a light that can take me away from this little plastic bottle I hold in my hand; from the ever lasting darkness, the despair and the incessant impregnable wall of black all around. I do not know how long I can, but I genuinely want to believe that there must be some hope. There must be some hope of my dreams. I sincerely want to believe that if I keep shouting – “I believe in fairies, I do, I do,” somewhere a fairy will live, and she will grant me my wish. Just one wish – that’s what I always wanted from god.
Yep, can do with a real warm, cozy, genuine hug! The nights have become really prickly and tricky. But I still desperately want be believe. Want to see the phoenix rise once more! Will it be able to d it this time…
Eclipse! and its marketing in IndiaSo even the Reuters bungles and that too about such a big
event!! The article in Reuters about yesterdays solar eclipse, and its coverage in IBN Live states the next solar eclipse on July 22, 2009. However the solar
eclipse calendars in BBC and NASA states otherwise; as per these two the next solar
eclipse in on Jan 26, 2009.
The fact is that the next total solar eclipse is on July 22, 2009 and the one on Jan 26, 2009 is a Annular Eclipse. R.I.P.As on today.. this space of some who claimed to be "Eternal Optimistic" gets lost in Space... May be in some other space and time... May be in some parallel world.. May be... May be... May 2008 Dreams of a Single Father!
61% of all
child abuse is committed by biological mothers The data is from here
“Unmarried and just 33 years old, Sandip recently adopted Arjun, the first in the country to do so in almost a decade. Source
Each of the report one comes across shows how much a male wants to be blessed with fatherhood. How much importance a father gives to the feeling of being with his kid, yet, its always the mother who is given prominence. I have always maintained that just because of the pain a mother felt, the child should always be grateful. Yet, isn’t a father equally giving and feel in his own way, the emotions attached with parenthood? Doesn’t he spend sleepless nights looking at his little angel? Doesn’t he toil those extra hours just to have those extra pennies for the future of his child? Doesn’t he go through the same, excitement, anxiety, pain and ecstasy that a mother feels? Why is the society then so much bent towards mother then? So much so, that its so hard for a male to be a father, when he is bootstrapped? He is dependant upon the lady’s consent to bring his own offspring to earth. And if he cant have one biologically, and wants to adopt one – regulations galore; until he has a wife at home, or lives in a joint family or of a particular age, he can’t even adopt. And even if he somehow meets all the criteria, the point (j) of 1.1.10 from the regulations termed by CARA (Central Adoption Resource Agency), is a killer. By the way, that’s one of the “safeguards”. And it states – “Placement of girls with a single male is not allowed as also placement of children with same sex couples.” Poooof!! There goes the dream. A single father can never adopt a girl child!! Though a female can. And even if a male is a widower, he can! And there are examples galore that how caring those fathers are. Yet… Well it doesn’t “term” any guideline for a single father who is divorced or separated, who knows, when a hapless one embarks on a journey, some over-enthusiastic “babu” (or “bibi” – it might be) might interpret some of the guidelines which asks him to hang from the cliff in one hand and take out money from his pocket and count it, to show that he is capable of becoming a father. And I am not even worrying about the remarks, expressions, and reactions he has to face. As if the separation was something that he has charted in his own terms and will. Why is it so difficult? Why is the society so much biased towards females? Even when it comes to the question of maintaining a relationship, till such time that the relationship exist but in doldrums, in some case the woman will be termed guilty and in others the man; but when it ends, it will always be the man’s fault. Why so much prejudice? Why so much predefined conceptions? Why can an individual be treated as an individual? So you are free to give!
Anything! Whether its your blood, eyes, other organs or hard earned money, you
can give it to the society. But the moment a man asks for something in return,
the society arms itself to its teeth. The males are the one who has to be
strong, who needs to earn the bread, who has to be one of superlative moral
character, who has to be caring, giving and forgiving, who needs to be loyal,
and has to be understanding. Yet he is not someone who should be understood as
an individual. On the other hand, the females are the enigma! They are the one
who needs to be protected and .. Each of the statistics collected shows what men do, and contrary to the popular and safe beliefs, yet, they are bound and gagged and labeled for life. Life alone is a real tough alley my friend!
Why cant a single male be allowed to dream and live his dreams? |
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