As life got busier and busier,
the time cruised by,
and now I try to catch some moments,
some memories flashing by.
undeterred and adamant,
the stream flows on,
how I wish could stop it,
halt it, but it goes on.
and soon would go the moments
that I would have loved to cherish
those flowers fragrant, the rivers tranquil,
those wonderful relations that I relish.
As I stand at the end of the road
looking back, I say to myself,
the end that I had ran to never did exist,
that the end was in the journey itself.
Saturday 21 April 2007
Tuesday 17 April 2007
Foreign Affair
Ashok Babu true to his middle-class nature believed in the superiority of everything foreign or imported. His abode in Kalyani Nagar comprised of an eclectic collection of items procured from places as diverse as Timbuktu and Tokyo. An American Television, a Swiss watch, and a Japanese tape recorder were some of his prized possessions. He assumed an air of pride bordering on arrogance among other residents of Kalyani Nagar. Lately, he had been advised some physical exercise by his doctor and he perceived this as an opportunity to procure yet another foreign-made item to enhance his relative status in the society. With this pleasant thought in mind, he proceeded to the bicycle shop at the marketplace nearby. With an air of hauteur possessed usually by the kings of bygone eras, he summoned the shop owner and ordered,
"Show me the best bicycle that you have."
The shop-owner obliged like an obedient servant and led him to a section of the shop that had more bicycles than people around that conveyed obviously to Ashok Babu that the place displayed bicycles worth more than the general affordability of the more common populace. He beamed an egotistic smile. He could have patted his back with his own hands if only they could venture beyond the circumference of his prosperous belly.
"I want only a foreign-made bicycle. These Indian-made ones are cheap and are of an inferior quality. If you have any foreign-made bicycles then show them to me else don't waste my time", he said emphatically.
"We have the best in the world, Sir. Don't you worry at all. I will show you the best and nothing but the best bicycles."
"But they are foreign-made, aren't they?"
"Yes, of course, Sir. None of them have even a part that is manufactured in India."
Ashok Babu was visibly pleased with the answer and with an appreciative eye began inspecting the exhibits in the order of increasing price. For each product that he eyed, the shop-owner embarked on a rote-learned recitation of its qualities and features that entitled the bicycle to be deemed as the best in the world. Finally, Ashok Babu stopped next to the most expensive bicycle and scrutinized it with the kind of perspicacity that is usually possessed by women purchasing vegetables in the market.
The shop-owner having perceived Ashok Babu's affirmative glances began enumerating all the qualities of the bicycle and in the process rattled off the names of all the countries where each part of the bicycle was manufactured.
Pleased with the description, Ashok Babu decided to purchase it immediately.
"That will be 5000 rupees, Sir!"
The amount sounded exorbitant to Ashok Babu and he almost as quickly decided to label the doctor a quack and consult another one who could instead prescribe him a magic pill than advise exercise, but the delicious opportunity of stamping his superior status on his neighbours and witness their faces painted with jealousy and envy prevented him from doing so and he fished into his pocket and brought out a bundle of notes, counted the required amount, and handed over the money to the shop-owner.
"It better be worth all the money."
"Sure sir, it is. As an additional security measure, I would suggest you to purchase a lock for the bicycle. I have some in my shop if you are interested."
"Well, that is a good idea. Are the locks too imported?"
"Er, no Sir. They aren't. Unfortunately, we have only Indian locks."
An Indian lock on an imported bicycle! Almost outrightly Ashok babu rejected the idea. His bicycle deserved nothing less than a swiss lock. What a matter of shame it would be for him otherwise! He rejected the shop-owner's suggestion and admonished him for even suggesting so.
Visibly bloated with happiness and pride over his latest purchase, Ashok Babu emerged out of the cycle shop dragging along his brand new bicycle alongside him. He decided to celebrate this joyous occasion at Guptaji's shop – his favourite sweet shop in the middle of the busy market place of Kalyani Nagar – by feasting on a kilo or two of delicious Jalebis.
Guptaji received him with customary graciousness reserved for his most special customers. Even before being asked, Ashok Babu announced his latest achievement to the motley group of people around the shop and went about his business of gorging on the choicest sweets the shop had to offer.
Contented and satisfied, Ashok Babu decided to go home and after having paid the bill, came out of the shop, and, as he had done in the past, promptly called for a taxi and went home.
It is only when he was smugly reminiscing about the day's events that it struck him that he had left the bicycle outside Guptaji's shop. Not that people of Kalyani Nagar were notorious kleptomaniacs. However, it would be imprudent to believe that an expensive item such as his bicycle would not draw the attention of, or indeed tempt an honest man into immoralilty.
The sudden prospect of losing his prized possession instilled into him a briskness and a religious zeal that had long been not witnessed in his demeanour. He shot off towards Guptaji's shop with a prayer on his lips. He promised himself that if he found his bicycle he would immediately visit the temple on the outskirts of Kalyani Nagar and offer generous oblations.
Soon enough, he was at Guptaji's shop huffing and puffing and catching on his breath. There, outside the shop, in the golden light of the setting sun, his bicycle shone like a magnificent piece carved out in gold. Never had he felt the enormous elation he felt in his heart then. If he could, he would have jumped in joy but the sheer gravity acting on him kept his feet planted firmly on the ground.
He hugged his bicycle like a mother who hugs her long-separated child. He held the bicycle in his hands and began dragging it along. As promised, he decided to visit the temple and express his gratitude to the Gods for protecting his beloved bicycle. He laboured all the way to the outskirts of the town where the temple was situated.
He parked his bicycle outside the temple and went in. True to his words, he offered a generous donation of a hundred and one rupees – an auspicious amount - to the temple and profusely thanked the Gods.
His heart light with happiness and joy, Ashok Babu emeged out of the temple, wore his shoes and walked towards where his bicycle was parked. Only this time, the bicycle wasn't there.
"Show me the best bicycle that you have."
The shop-owner obliged like an obedient servant and led him to a section of the shop that had more bicycles than people around that conveyed obviously to Ashok Babu that the place displayed bicycles worth more than the general affordability of the more common populace. He beamed an egotistic smile. He could have patted his back with his own hands if only they could venture beyond the circumference of his prosperous belly.
"I want only a foreign-made bicycle. These Indian-made ones are cheap and are of an inferior quality. If you have any foreign-made bicycles then show them to me else don't waste my time", he said emphatically.
"We have the best in the world, Sir. Don't you worry at all. I will show you the best and nothing but the best bicycles."
"But they are foreign-made, aren't they?"
"Yes, of course, Sir. None of them have even a part that is manufactured in India."
Ashok Babu was visibly pleased with the answer and with an appreciative eye began inspecting the exhibits in the order of increasing price. For each product that he eyed, the shop-owner embarked on a rote-learned recitation of its qualities and features that entitled the bicycle to be deemed as the best in the world. Finally, Ashok Babu stopped next to the most expensive bicycle and scrutinized it with the kind of perspicacity that is usually possessed by women purchasing vegetables in the market.
The shop-owner having perceived Ashok Babu's affirmative glances began enumerating all the qualities of the bicycle and in the process rattled off the names of all the countries where each part of the bicycle was manufactured.
Pleased with the description, Ashok Babu decided to purchase it immediately.
"That will be 5000 rupees, Sir!"
The amount sounded exorbitant to Ashok Babu and he almost as quickly decided to label the doctor a quack and consult another one who could instead prescribe him a magic pill than advise exercise, but the delicious opportunity of stamping his superior status on his neighbours and witness their faces painted with jealousy and envy prevented him from doing so and he fished into his pocket and brought out a bundle of notes, counted the required amount, and handed over the money to the shop-owner.
"It better be worth all the money."
"Sure sir, it is. As an additional security measure, I would suggest you to purchase a lock for the bicycle. I have some in my shop if you are interested."
"Well, that is a good idea. Are the locks too imported?"
"Er, no Sir. They aren't. Unfortunately, we have only Indian locks."
An Indian lock on an imported bicycle! Almost outrightly Ashok babu rejected the idea. His bicycle deserved nothing less than a swiss lock. What a matter of shame it would be for him otherwise! He rejected the shop-owner's suggestion and admonished him for even suggesting so.
Visibly bloated with happiness and pride over his latest purchase, Ashok Babu emerged out of the cycle shop dragging along his brand new bicycle alongside him. He decided to celebrate this joyous occasion at Guptaji's shop – his favourite sweet shop in the middle of the busy market place of Kalyani Nagar – by feasting on a kilo or two of delicious Jalebis.
Guptaji received him with customary graciousness reserved for his most special customers. Even before being asked, Ashok Babu announced his latest achievement to the motley group of people around the shop and went about his business of gorging on the choicest sweets the shop had to offer.
Contented and satisfied, Ashok Babu decided to go home and after having paid the bill, came out of the shop, and, as he had done in the past, promptly called for a taxi and went home.
It is only when he was smugly reminiscing about the day's events that it struck him that he had left the bicycle outside Guptaji's shop. Not that people of Kalyani Nagar were notorious kleptomaniacs. However, it would be imprudent to believe that an expensive item such as his bicycle would not draw the attention of, or indeed tempt an honest man into immoralilty.
The sudden prospect of losing his prized possession instilled into him a briskness and a religious zeal that had long been not witnessed in his demeanour. He shot off towards Guptaji's shop with a prayer on his lips. He promised himself that if he found his bicycle he would immediately visit the temple on the outskirts of Kalyani Nagar and offer generous oblations.
Soon enough, he was at Guptaji's shop huffing and puffing and catching on his breath. There, outside the shop, in the golden light of the setting sun, his bicycle shone like a magnificent piece carved out in gold. Never had he felt the enormous elation he felt in his heart then. If he could, he would have jumped in joy but the sheer gravity acting on him kept his feet planted firmly on the ground.
He hugged his bicycle like a mother who hugs her long-separated child. He held the bicycle in his hands and began dragging it along. As promised, he decided to visit the temple and express his gratitude to the Gods for protecting his beloved bicycle. He laboured all the way to the outskirts of the town where the temple was situated.
He parked his bicycle outside the temple and went in. True to his words, he offered a generous donation of a hundred and one rupees – an auspicious amount - to the temple and profusely thanked the Gods.
His heart light with happiness and joy, Ashok Babu emeged out of the temple, wore his shoes and walked towards where his bicycle was parked. Only this time, the bicycle wasn't there.
Sunday 8 April 2007
War and Ego
If there is one phenomenon that the entire Human history is ridden with, then it is definitely War. Just open a book of History and randomly run your finger to any one page and you would most likely find a reference to a war. Numerous reasons are given for a war - battle for truth, battle for good, battle for Gods etc. A lot of consequences have also been elaborated - destruction, gloom, poverty, diseases etc.
But what sustains a war?; why the parties involved in a war want to continue to wage it despite knowing its consequences all too well? How many times have we heard people say that they would rather not have a war but they can't help it. What does one mean by "cannot help it" ? Is it really true that they are helpless or is it that they do not want to help themselves?
One factor that I seem to notice in all these conflicts is a strong presence of EGO. War is an excellent exercise in fuelling one's EGO. Taking initiative to broke peace is perceived to be a sign of weakness in the party offering truce. Alternately, if a party that has had an upper hand suddenly offers peace to its opponent, it is taken as a sign of humiliation by the opponent; all the more reason for him/her to continue to wage the war and not accept the peace offer.
After the war has run for a prolonged time, if the two parties involved do decide to sit down and fashion a peaceful solution to the problem, neither of the sides is willing to compromise on its stand. The sheer cost, effort and time that has been expended on waging the war prohibits any compromise, otherwise it might make the warring parties look like fools for having waged a war on something that could have been solved by a dialogue and compromise. The EGO yet again comes into play.
One may find such similarities in a discord that emerges between a husband and a wife, or between two siblings, or between two lovers. None of the parties is happy being in the discord and would want to resolve the issue amicably and live happily with each other. However, their respective EGOs would prevent them from taking the first step towards a resolution lest they are perceived to be the weaker party and are seen willing to compromise - something which the other might take advantage of to further his/her opinion or position. Hence the deadlock continues and a relation that should have blossomed happily continues to sour to its destruction.
That is why it is often said that the most precious word in a relationship is SORRY. This word not only immediately assuages the EGO of the opponent almost instantaneously but also gives us an opportunity to look within ourselves to see if the mistake, or part thereof, does lie with us. If both parties follow this principle, then the relationship never ever faces an EGO clash as both parties would look forward to a compromise almost as soon as a conflict or a contentious issue rears its head.
Maybe, there is an equivalent of SORRY word in WAR too. Everytime, a discord emerges that could be a potential cause for a war, the two parties must utter the "SORRY" word and sit down and formulate a compromise solution. Maybe then we would be able to maintain peace and happiness in the world.
But what sustains a war?; why the parties involved in a war want to continue to wage it despite knowing its consequences all too well? How many times have we heard people say that they would rather not have a war but they can't help it. What does one mean by "cannot help it" ? Is it really true that they are helpless or is it that they do not want to help themselves?
One factor that I seem to notice in all these conflicts is a strong presence of EGO. War is an excellent exercise in fuelling one's EGO. Taking initiative to broke peace is perceived to be a sign of weakness in the party offering truce. Alternately, if a party that has had an upper hand suddenly offers peace to its opponent, it is taken as a sign of humiliation by the opponent; all the more reason for him/her to continue to wage the war and not accept the peace offer.
After the war has run for a prolonged time, if the two parties involved do decide to sit down and fashion a peaceful solution to the problem, neither of the sides is willing to compromise on its stand. The sheer cost, effort and time that has been expended on waging the war prohibits any compromise, otherwise it might make the warring parties look like fools for having waged a war on something that could have been solved by a dialogue and compromise. The EGO yet again comes into play.
One may find such similarities in a discord that emerges between a husband and a wife, or between two siblings, or between two lovers. None of the parties is happy being in the discord and would want to resolve the issue amicably and live happily with each other. However, their respective EGOs would prevent them from taking the first step towards a resolution lest they are perceived to be the weaker party and are seen willing to compromise - something which the other might take advantage of to further his/her opinion or position. Hence the deadlock continues and a relation that should have blossomed happily continues to sour to its destruction.
That is why it is often said that the most precious word in a relationship is SORRY. This word not only immediately assuages the EGO of the opponent almost instantaneously but also gives us an opportunity to look within ourselves to see if the mistake, or part thereof, does lie with us. If both parties follow this principle, then the relationship never ever faces an EGO clash as both parties would look forward to a compromise almost as soon as a conflict or a contentious issue rears its head.
Maybe, there is an equivalent of SORRY word in WAR too. Everytime, a discord emerges that could be a potential cause for a war, the two parties must utter the "SORRY" word and sit down and formulate a compromise solution. Maybe then we would be able to maintain peace and happiness in the world.
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