2 mins at a traffic block

Today I was late to office (its not a new thing, ofcourse) and so I hired an auto from my doorstep to my bus stop and was eventually caught in the bangalorean traffic…
I was impatient and wondering whom to curse when I happened to see a school bus to my right.
There was a lot of bustling activity within, and I cudnt help but watch the little brats.
There were kids of different ages…. Mostly small boys and girls and a little more senior girls…
The little boys were the most active in the group…
Most of them were seated on the back seats of the bus, and 4 boys were fighting – making fists at each other… and gesticulating with their hands…
They were even leaving their seats and running around.
Little girls were chattering, probably gossiping about ghosts and miracles..
They leaned forward and backward on their seats, as though they were restless but still reluctant to get up.
And the senior girls with neat platted pig tails on both sides, were bent over the books, hurriedly reading away…
Looked like they were revising yesterday’s portion and preparing for questions from some rigorous dedicated teacher…

I was enjoying the action and the buzz inside that bus… carrying its load of restless, important little people with their little keen minds eager to understand the complex world that surrounds them. And I was very happy with the little boys, and slightly disappointed with the more demure little girls…
Those 2 mins in the traffic took me 2 decades back to school when I ruled in my own little world.

2 decades back I was a better human being …
Starting life with an open mind, a trusting disposition, a fuller spirit and a bigger heart.
And yes, restless too.

Escapades like biting my van driver’s hand to set me free from his grasp and running away to cross the road on my own… and getting all the sympathy while narrowly escaping getting run over by an auto, while subjecting the bewildered and bitten driver to an outpour of local theries by the aaya of the school…. I remember that evening the driver had a band-aid plastered on his hand…

Memories of scaling up to the heights of a mango tree along with my brother and his friends.. and proudly bringing back a green raw mango for my mother to share with her.. And instead of being rewarded and praised for my accomplishment, I was caned for “stealing” a mango from the park… Grown-ups always introduced this unpredictable twist into our simple lives!!!

Days of rain, when I would run out on the terrace with my umbrella and rain-coat and then run around in the rain (sans the umbrella and raincoat) and throw strips of paper on the floor to see it float (coz tho I wished to make a paper boat I never knew how), and then being dragged off the terrace by mother and being ordered to take a bath. And after having dried my hair, sneaking off to the terrace a second time, to be found out by my mother once again and being caned simply coz a kid was fascinated with the rain..

Days of primitive, unsophisticated selfishness…. When I broke the attractive glass covering of the 2 identical pencilbox cases I had brought for me and my bestfriend, I gifted the broken pencilbox to her with a straight face – and to this date, I get teased for this act.

Days of rowdyism, when I smashed a boy against the wall simply coz he told me he wont give me my umbrella back unless I fought with him.. Likewise chasing a classmate with the cardboard examination board coz he called me a “chakka”…
And a funny day when I pretended to cry by rubbing my eyes, and scared the class monitor to rub my name off the board from the list of the talkative pple..
And a brilliant day when I was punished by a nun I loved and love to this day, by making me stand in front of the class with my tie tied like a tail and the message written on the board “I AM A MONKEY”….

Brilliant days – beautiful memories – the best part of a lifetime lived with genuine spirit, and genuine companionship…
And these moments flashed by as I stared at the lucky kids within that school bus…
And just as the vehichles began to move a small girl rose from the seat, and lightly thrashed the conductor on the hand and grinned straight on his face..
And I broke into a smile..
Old playground, new players.
Maybe when a retired cricketer watches a young blood hit an unpredictable six, he feels the same way I did…
“Brilliant… well done!!!”

Musings

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Some people's lives are so full of struggle...
They are brought low to the mud...
And they strive to rise... even when burdens weigh on their weakened shoulders...
And bravely they strive...
I wonder how many do finally rise and gaze at the skies...

Some other people do I find...,
Their life is so much blessed...
No strive is written on their brows...
Minor struggles.., small winds... that’s all they find
Across their path as they walk...
Their life is simple and so pretty...
That one cannot but gape and admire...

Still why is there this difference?
Why for some the storm...
And why for others small little breezes
In both the worlds’ around...

As I turn around in life and find
Both the parties' lives' contrast...
I could not but wonder... and ache away
As to why some struggle and fail...
And why towards joy do some simply sail away..?

One gift I need

One gift I desperately need is the ability to see good in people around me, to see their best qualities of which they themselves may not be aware...

Cynism makes life difficult... it depresses the mind and heart. On the other hand, the gift of seeing good in people around u - truly see and feel it, rather than pretending to appreciate where it is lacking..., it is a gift to be envied for. It makes life more beautiful.. it is one gift that makes u happy inside...

Well this is one gift I cant shop for.... but the best gifts in life come for free and sometimes with lots of effort.

How weird am I?

I am tagging on to my friend Reshmi. Felt it was pretty interesting.., coz I have never really given any thought to the weirdities within me as they are bound to be there in any individual.

Here's what I could think of ;-)

1.When by myself - One weird aspect about me woule be my habit of talking to myself. When I study, I happily imagine that I am surrounded by nice studious kids and then lecture away to glory, at times pausing to attend to their doubts and answer them back their questions. I have been this way since my childhood. This was one chief source of amusement to my brother. Sometimes, I do a commentary on my own actions. Like when wanting to type on a new line, I will repeat “Now lets hit Enter”, or when walking I will say to myself “Now we take a right”.. There have been times while on my own, when I think of something so funny, that I have burst out laughing right there and then on the road when all by myself.
2. Driving like crazy – I love to hit the accelerator and zoom away. The only thing that keeps me back is the fear to endanger fellow roadies’ lives. I never drive when my mom’s around coz I am afraid it will hike up her BP. Usually I am a considerate driver when I have a passenger – I just get rash when I am out on my own on a long stretch of road. I guess one friend who enjoys my freakish ride is my best friend Sreela. She tells me "vaa Soorya, namukku doo laa kaanuna vandide bumper idichellakki kondu pokaam" as we fly over a speed breaker.
3. Thick skinned and obstinate– Don’t give 2 hoots about what people think, if I am comfortable with what I am doing. I am pretty arrogant on that level. If I feel I am right doing what I do, I can do anything no matter what an impossible situation it puts me into.
4. Loud Commentaries at the cinema - While watching or reading thrillers, I have this habit of guessing out the culprit, and most often I hit bulls’ eye. Also, while watching Hindi movies, I can predict the next scene or happenings so correctly that my friends swear that I would have seen the movie before. And when I go to the cinemas to watch movies, I cant helping passing comments aloud much to the irritation of companions.., which is something I again enjoy. And there have been so many instances where in I wished to "onu neetti koovan" but the convent bred + my Mom's teachings on decorum and conduct holds me back. ;-)
5. Not demonstrative - I can chatter for hours without touching a subject that preoccupies my mind wholly. This is a deceptive trait I have, because while in a group and socialising, people could think I am right there.., whereas I can be miles away. Also, I could be on a really down state of mind, but still I can gear up for the benefit of friends and cheer away.
6. Cleanliness Freak – Especially when it comes to bathrooms, I cant have anything less than spick and span.

Penalized for My Faith

I am a normal citizen of India - born and brought up here. My youngest memories, my relations and my friends were all formed here only. Yet, now-a-days I find myself being looked upon as a Pakistani. Why? Because I am Muslim?

I do not support forced singing of "Vande Mataram" because I stand up for a monotheistic faith, and the song has references to godesses and Hindu theology or faith. But anyone who wishes to sing the song should be free to sing it.., if a Muslim friend wishes to sing it of his/her own free will, I will never oppose it. But I do not support force, nor will I sing it. Does that mean I rever India less than an individual who does sing it? Does it make me a lesser Indian?? Is Vande Mataram to be made the yardstick of nationalism or patriotism? When a politician who sells his motherland for 2 pieces of silver sings it, he is proclaimed to be a nationalist. And just because I decline to sing it, am I to be denounced as to love my country any less or to have a lesser pride of its culture and heritage? I feel outraged.

I denounce the Mumbai blasts.. and all blasts and all inhumane actions. I do it as a human and as a Muslim. Which God would demand slaughter of innocent lives? And if a God does demand slaughter of lives, would He be fit for worship?Which faith would propogate violence? And yet, I am a devout Muslim. People ask me about Jihad. They tell me that 9/11 is Jihad, Pakistani militants in Kashmir are doing Jihad. Bull shit!!! Jihad means war in the cause of truth.., and the Prophet teaches that the biggest war is the war that u fight against the falsehood, selfish motives and evil in yourself. When a milkman who is about to adulterate his milk with water, refrains from doing so, even when there is no other witnesses - for the sake of righteousness, for the sake of God, it is the biggest form of Jihad. When ur best friend does something wrong, and u stand up to him and tell him "NO" with all the courage and truth in you, it is Jihad.
War bw nations, bw people when faught for a rightful cause, the people who fight for right are doing Jihad. Indian National Freedom struggle itself is a Jihad. The "Non Co-operation Movement" is a Jihad. Sometimes, physical wars need to be faught for a rightful cause.. but no war can be a Jihad when an innocent life is wiped off. No war.
The rules for war stipulated in Islam are :-
1. Women and children should not be harmed
2. Civillians should be left alone - war is to be faught bw soldiers alone.
3. Trees shouldnt be cut down or harmed.

Allah through Qur'an says " If you save an innocent life, it is equivalent to saving the whole of humanity. And if you kill an innocent life, it is equivalent to killing the whole of humanity".
How then can I, or any muslim for that matter support terrorism.
I keep hearing from people "Not all Muslims are terrorists".
No. What I state emphatically is "No terrorist is a Muslim".

If Ossama Bin Laden is behind 9/11 or any terror attack which has affected an innocent person's life, I can say without a moment's doubt that he is not a muslim inspite of his grand Arabic name and his long beard.

What is happening in Kashmir has nothing to do with Islamic ideologies. It is the war that ensues when a neighbouring nation wishes to annexe the property of another nation, and the resultant insurgence and sponsored rebellion and the presence of the military - and the story of a section of normal people who have lost their freedom to the terror of fire and counter-fire, and have lost the right to lead normal lives. Please do not attribute ISI, or Pakistani militancy to the Islamic ideology.

What happens in Palestine is the struggle of the Palestinians to fight for their land, and their right to live a normal life. It cannot be attributed to Islamic ideology. The cause is right, but the method they have employed is non-Jihadi, because they kill innocent civillians through their retaliation.

I denounce and strongly object to the term "Islamic Terrorism". If an Abdul etc etc.., or an Osama or someone else with an arabic name kills, attribute it to the individual. Not to the faith. If Iran or Afghanisthan people fight, its about Islamic Terrorism. If the US government under Bush goes on fighting and waging wars and killing hundreds and thousands of civillians, why is it not called Christian Terrorism or Bush Terrorism. There is Baj Rang Dal and other outfits that act on extremism, but have u ever heard of Hindu Terrorism.., even when there were many instances of the Baj_Rang-Dal and their likes' inhumane actions? Because, in all these cases, the actions are rightfully attributed to a particular individual or a nation or a sect, not to the theology or ideology.Why the Hell, the double standards!!!

When there was an attack at the IISC campus in Bangalore, I was warned by a friend against wearing my head scarf and venturing out. Why? Was I responsible in any way? Did I contribute to it even at a mental level?? Did I morally support it? Then why me?

At my work place, I find the foreigner lady looking at me uneasily.. coz I have this scarf around me... it proclaims that I am a Muslim. When I resist the compulsory singing of Vande Mataram, I am indirectly likened to a Pakisthani by friends with whom I have studied for 4 yrs, by colleagues who have been around me for months. I am hunted down and victimised. I am outraged.., grievously outraged.

Life’s Story

Every person, every life has a unique story to tell – which is his or her own life’s story. Two lives even when bonded together will have 2 different stories tho they do converge at some point. Two independent lives will have similarity with each other at some point, but its impossible to find, in this world filled with billions of lives, two equally similar lives and their stories. That’s why each life has its own story to tell even if it doesn’t belong to a millionaire or a scientist. There is a story behind success and a story behind failure, the bold man’s story and the meek man’s, the wise woman’s story and the fool’s, the story of the oppressor and the story of the suppressed. Each story is an outcome of situations, perspectives, innate natures and available options, stimulus and response, and the consequences of the response. From each story emerges victorious, the individual with his warehouse of memories, experience, perspectives, attitudes and goals with the resulting improvisation or deterioration of character, his thoughts, actions and thereby his destiny.

Books are stories in print –biographies, autobiographies, illustrated comics, scientific fiction, novels, classics – the categories are enormous. Stories are not narrated just in books. What is a movie other than a story in motion?? But the movie is defined according to the perceptions and imagination of another person – there is the Count Dracula as when envisaged in the mind of the reader – his form can be moulded according to the infinite dimensions and bounds kept by the imagination of the reader and then there is Christopher Lee , a superb representation, no doubt – but defined and set. Movies are definite entertainers, but they inevitably suffer the disadvantage of crippling a person’s imagination and hence limiting his enjoyment as well. Paintings, poems, dance and music compositions– a majority of the art forms are narrations of emotions, situations – in short, stories. Whereas movies or books or poems are defined narrations – things which are put out in black and white - music for an eg., is an indefinite form of narration .It is a narration to be interpreted by the sensitivity of the listener… I don’t believe any form of art can survive without the basic foundation of a story – people may call it an inspiration.. But isn’t inspiration in itself a story??

The spectators, audience, readers – all get enthralled and touched by novel thoughts and spectacular situations evoked by and narrated in stories. Conan Doyle through Holmes remarks that daily, common life provides the stangest and bizzarest of situations and characters. Life itself is the biggest story narrator and we who live here are often the actors and the audience as well… Ordinary people stoop to low and inhuman actions at times, at times a next door neighbour rises in courage and selflessness…, the hero and the villain and the plot – all live and thrive in this very own routine and daily life.. The only thing required to read of this story is to look beyond and beneath the surface. Friends with whom you hang out, boss with whom you work, beggars whom you cross by on streets are all stories that breathe and live – and mostly, all these stories are equally unknown to us. If one could explore the rich treasures of these stories and possess the ability to learn from them, then one would grow infinitely rich in ones outlook, wisdom and evolve into a finer self.

As my train waits at the railway crossing, I see a bare footed man ,old and weather beaten, close to an isolated green patch of land, by the side of the railway tracks. He stares at the train and brushes his teeth away slowly, perched on a small stone slab as I, hidden by the thick slab of glass , observe him without any reserve. Here I am , late to get to work – with plans and hopes and fears. And there sits this solitary old figure. What does he do for a living; does he have a family; what all hopes does this person harbour within him, to which he clutches as a cliff overthrown man holds on to the last blade of grass? In the same 24 hours that we both are given in a day, what does he think, do, see, speak different from what I think, do, see and speak?? There will be a difference for sure and it is that difference that marks his story different and unique from mine.., likewise from a billion other lives.

Life , I take thee as my teacher and hold thee in my heart..
Prick me, pain me, heal me, liberate me – but teach me of the stories in thy wares.

The Individual and The Thought

If you were to divide an individual, what would be the fundamental unit that defines the individual?
It would be thought.
Thought makes up attitude and actions.
Thought defines your lifestyle and your life as well.


The easiest way to live in the world is to stop thinking.
Live without a care and live in and for the present moment.
No future - no past.
The phrase from the Lion King Movie -"Ha kuna matata" meaning "no worries" - a problem free life.
But then, there is no guarantee that the life u live in all those years is of any quality or purpose.


To think about oneself and live is hard.
To plan with care the 1st investment, to improvise oneself on ones job, to gain recognition - ambition in one word - all that requires a lot of commitment and planning and toil.
Its not easy.
Then again, the quality of ones lifestyle can be guaranteed at the end of it all... but what about the Quality of the life led, the purpose or sense or meaning of such a life?
Is it calculated to render one total satisfaction???
A majority of people live under the misconception that such a life gives happiness.
The truth is, it gives pleasure and not happiness.
And they are two different things.

To think about the world around you and live is the hardest thing to do.
To think about people living in slums, to think about the people who have to be evacuated because of dam and large infrastructure constructions, to think about the people struck by natural calamities , to think about corruption on a national level and at an individual level, to think about the mindless bloodshed in the stupidity of a sport called hunting, to think about saving water, to think about the environment, to think about street children education and institutions that adhere to the needs of the unprevilleged, to think about communal insecurities and riots which are politically triggered, to think about global terrorism - both state-sponsored and misled militants, about the tyrant whether at a global or a local scale and the suppressed...
I have named very few causes and already it boggles the mind... it suffocates our usually complacent lives.. Doesnt it?
Yet they are part and parcel of the world around us.
Truth is we are living in a world of suffering and each capable individual's passivity contributes to this general suffering.
To think about the world around us and to live is the hardest thing to do.
Because thought always leads to action.
Its not possible to think and then not to act.
But again its not possible for a person to help out in all the causes, but if more people had cared and strived, it would have made life easier for some.
Its past time that someone rephrases the proverb - Live and Let Live..
In today's scenario it should be Live and Help Live.... or we can complete the proverb as Live and Let Live in continued in Misery.
A life which is led for a cause is the life which gives true happiness...