All for a cause

All my life I've felt life has to have a purpose, a meaning. And that believing in a cause, any cause gives it meaning. Not anymore. Not since that shocking attack on Army Public school children in Pakistan. Much has already been said on the issue and I'm too late to add anything to the outrage such an attack provoked. But I can say this much - this is what it finally leads to. Believing in causes. What fight for freedom, what cause can justify this massacre of innocents? What promised land do you inherit with their blood staining your hands? Which Allah Or God Or Maker can justify taking the lives of these innocents? Taliban claimed this attack was in retaliation of what the Army did to their families. So why target children? Why not attack the Army? Why take the coward's way out? The easy way out? 

I am beginning to intensely dislike causes. Any cause. Every cause. Good or bad. Because from what I can see it is turning men into rabid, foaming at the mouth fanatics incapable of thinking or reasoning. Either you want a separate state or piece of territory, or you want freedom, or some such crap you feel justifies all the bloodshed and chaos you leave in your wake. The crimes committed in the name  of freedom are legion. All the bombings, the violence, the murder of innocent people are unleashed by terrorists because of this shining cause they believe in. Wars are fought because men believe in some cause or other. Shias fight Sunnis because they believe in some cause dictated by their Allah(?). Men divide break destroy kill maim because they think some cause justifies it all. 

"We are fighting for a cause" they say unable to see what it is doing to them. 

So I say do away with all causes but one- humanity. First be human before you can be free. Before you stake your piece of promised land on this earth learn to be of this earth. Learn that you cannot be truly free until you know what freedom really is. The ability to be humane. And any cause that invites the destruction of millions of innocents cannot lead anywhere but to one place alone. To hell. Only in this case it is of your own making. The one you have fashioned with your hands. 

Is it science- or karma- every action has an equal and opposite reaction? 

So next time before you destroy in the name of any cause think.

Busy bee

Normally I am the laziest person around. I spent the greater part of Sunday snuggled under my warm razai reading a book. And...I'm not gong to recount episodes to demonstrate my laziness. Just that this blog is the result of lot of discussions and hearing people claim that they hate activity. After thinking on it I realized I could not for the life of me imagine a world without activity of any sort. Most inactive people claim they are doing nothing: Just watching TV, reading a book, or sleeping. But those, mark you, are activities too. They are all verbs or action words. 

Even when you are sleeping your brain is active. Hence the dreams. Take activity away from us and you take away life. It is a comatose state. Where you are nothing more than a vegetable.

Try for a second. Close your eyes and imagine a world without any activity of any sort. Successful? No? I couldn't either. Life demands action. Passive action but action nevertheless. You might sit in a chair and think. But thinking is an activity too. 

See? Everything you think is not an action actually is. 

I know people are stressed today. We are dealing with a scenario where so many things are happening simultaneously that each moment we live brings its share of stress. Wellness gurus cannot emphasize enough the need to chill out and reduce stress levels through various mediums- exercise, yoga, social interaction, hobbies, music. The list is endless. But activity is a therapy too. Try it sometime. Next time you are stressed or feeling as if your world has ended do something.  Watch a nice movie, go for a walk, talk to your friend, clean out your cupboard, bake a cake, plant a tree, write a diary entry. Something. Anything. In my opinion action has a lot to recommend it. A lot of our ills exist because we scoff at active people. But the old school of thought has something there. I know we can't be jumping around all the time. But it is absolutely imperative to have something to do. Otherwise we all dissolve into nothingness. We stop being alive. 

Being a busy bee has its upside too. If you are not a busy bee but a lazy one(like me) it is still good to have bouts of activity - even if it is walking in the park or reading a book. Don't you think so?  

My Winter Rhapsody

I don't know about you but I spend the better part of the year looking forward to those 3 months of winter.(It has shrunk to 1 month actually.) I cannot for the life of me write either prose or poems about the sun or the summer living in a country where its unrelenting blaze scorches everything in sight. That's why the thought of those months or month(!) of reprieve from its glare is enough to make me write this. If you haven't already guessed I love the winter. It is the best time of the year. The only time when I can match my western counterparts in waxing lyrical about the sun and its warmth. The only time when I actively seek its warmth and light. Having lived all over India I've lived in places like Chennai and Guwahati where there are no winters. That's why I appreciate it all the more. 

Winter for me brings lots of images: Breath frosting on the air, the smell of wood smoke from burning roadside fires, the carts of roasting groundnuts( mumfali) by the roadside with wisps of smoke curling from it, and the air itself. Cold, smelling of flowers, brushing the tip of your nose making your eyes water with its bite, the early morning fog outside your window. It is the time when you snuggle into your woolens and take long brisk walks to keep yourself warm. 

Winter is also the time of indulgence for me. When you can gorge on sweet vegetables and fruits, eat rich gravies and get away with it, munch on chocolate and chikkis. Not to mention hot fried chaat. It means outings, picnics and generally an air of suppressed bonhomie. With Christmas holidays and New Year around the corner and Diwali just past it introduces a cheer that carries you along on a tide irrespective of your own mood. I cannot but feel an uplift of my spirits as this season begins no matter in what doldrums I might find myself. No matter how much life sucks I cannot help the smile that flits across my face with the cold wind brushing it. Even power cuts don't matter much because it's winter for god's sake!! 

Like all things short lived it is incredibly sweet. Even the groan that leaves your lips when discarding the warmth of your razai in the morning is welcome. Those cold blustery days when the mercury dips and the sun plays hide and seek are welcome. The blue blue skies above are welcome. The fog curling outside my window and bringing the smell of wildflowers at night is welcome. Winter you are welcome.

With the global warming changing our climate winters are shortening, becoming hotter. One day this season might just become a memory. A thing of the past. And summers will continue unabated. What a pity that will be! 

Between you and me

Have you noticed how our perceptions alter magically the moment the words "mine", "my" or "ours" enters the equation? Every little endeavour, every enterprise however insignificant becomes imbued with importance simply because it is ours, it belongs to us. And what set me thinking on this track was simply an exercise I witnessed just now while returning home. A flower seller sweeping his small circle of area clean. Prior to opening shop he was making sure his boundary, that small circle of space was presentable. It is not an uncommon sight is it? Nor is the scraping sound of brooms in the morning. We all like to keep our houses clean. Even a hovel is swept clean by slum dwellers, for it is the space they have fashioned into a home. But what happens the moment that we step out of that magical perimeter of mine, ours, my? Then of course it ceases to matter altogether. Rubbish might pile up and overflow by the road but we avert our faces because it is not our problem is it? To keep our areas clean we might dump our rubbish outside but after that it ceases to be our problem. We shrug and say "it is not mine." 

This is just a small example. There are so many things we ignore so many wrongs we do not right because it is not ours. We pay attention only to those things which directly affect us. The moment we put the stamp of possession on anything- marriage, relationship, things, work, enterprise- we attach ourselves to it like limpets. We are ready to fight to defend what we construe to be our territory. Because directly or indirectly it is related to our selves. To us. The pain caused by stubbing your toe and the pain perceived by the stubbing of another's toe are miles apart. Perceived pain cannot match your experienced one. That is precisely why these possessive pronouns make the world of difference. Between you and me there stands a gulf which can be bridged only when "you" becomes "me" and "I" become "you."

Creepy weird eh? But true nonetheless. Only when your perceived pain becomes experienced then you truly understand. When your circle of my or ours widens to include you, or the other as they say, then the magic happens. When you look out and see rubbish on your street or staircase, then of course you are impelled to take action. When you find someone writing graffiti on the walls of your heritage monument then you protest. When someone molests your sister, friend or woman then you take a stand. When someone drinks and bashes your car then you shout at them. Otherwise it's just a sign on the road.(Do not drink and drive) So go on. Say mine. Ours. My. Put your stamp of possession on everything you see. Your country. Your colony. Your son. Your son's school. Your road. Your world. Because then and only then it will be truly yours. Your world. Your planet. Because YOU care.

Your worst enemy

A five letter word. A teeny tiny niggle in your mind like an invisible worm eating away at your insides nibbling away incessantly till you are transformed from a serene confident person to a mass of shivering uncertainty. You want to know what on earth I'm talking about. I'm talking about Doubt of course. That little worm Iago inserted so successfully into Othello's ear till maddened by suspicion he killed his wife and love, Desdemona. Suspicion is just another guise that Doubt wears. Another name for the same thing. Only in this case Doubt is far more lethal. Because it can attack you from inside turning your "I know" to "I don't know" in seconds.

It is a rare person who is not besieged by doubts. We all are at some point or other in our lives. We all ask questions of ourselves like: Am I doing the right thing? Will I get there? Does God exist? And many more like these. From a believer you change into a nonbeliever in the twinkling of an eye because this demon worm enters your mind. From a person confident of his or her abilities you become a wreck because you don't know. For sure. Because Doubt is playing havoc with you. 

A person who is strong enough manages to drive it out but you might not get lucky every time. Sometimes it lingers on in the recesses of your brain destroying you from inside. Weakening you. Making you vulnerable. Preying on you. Then your confidence oozes out little by little. And you become its victim. 

See the thing is: ten times out of one you are not sure. In any situation. If it is the right path you are on. If you are going to end up where you want. If...A million Ifs. But some are. A handful. Who just know. Whose confidence blazes out like a beacon in the dark. And these are the ones who make the roads others walk on. 

Recognize your worst enemy and give it wide berth. Next time you are plagued by doubts look in the mirror bolster your sagging confidence and continue. Because that's how history is made. And battles won. Both internal and external.  

Band Baaja and Birthday Bash

Generally I steer clear of politics. Not being politically minded and not having studied my civics( Pol science- as it is called these days) in my youth - at all- it is a source of constant mystery to me how that body functions. But today I'm compelled to speak. Not about politics but about politicians.

We are constantly told by our khadi clad figures that we are an absymally poor country always in need of funds from other more powerful nations- Australia, US or what -have-you. 

And these ministers who are elected to their posts are Jan- sevaks ( servants of the people who have elected them to their thrones). And yet yesterday my eyes popped out at the photograph in the front page of the HT of the 75 foot long birthday cake of our erstwhile minister and father of the reigning Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav. Mulayam Singh Yadav. Yes. The guy who said "Boys will be boys" and not rapists when they rape women. That's the one. 

WOW!! Make that a double WOW!! Man what celebrations! They put any of our Bollywood star celebrations to shame. Carriages from England, flowers from Netherlands, 75 foot long cake-  can anything beat this? Did you say we are poor? Hey! I bet even the Queen Of England can't afford this show of extravagance. How much money does Mulayam Singh or his son have? Even the erstwhile royals cannot afford this kind of extravagance. And Mulayam Singh does not belong to a royal family. As far as we know he wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So where is this money flowing like champagne coming from? Is it out of our pockets? 

Mayawati made a spate of statues in some park and invited- justly- a lot of flak about the misuse of public funds but this kind of beats it hollow. And even if they have that kind of cash(amassed over the years- politics being so lucrative) to spend why not organize a dinner for orphans or the starving millions that feature so prominently in our ads and do some jan- seva? That's why they've been elected right? That's why they've got the votes. So that they can serve the public. Not have extravaganzas like this.

The next time any politician mentions our poor country show him the photo of the 75 foot long cake. What is the use of asking for black money in Swiss accounts when such politicians exist? Next time use your vote with discretion. Or Mulayam might just set a trend among political families where sons succeed their fathers. And have birthday celebrations like this. 

It's all in the tale

I just finished reading two more books. Somehow my little blog is turning out to be all about books.( bookworm that I am) So these two I'm told are both "life changing" books. John Green author of "Fault In Our Stars" assures us that it is all fiction and he has tweaked facts to suit himself and that a story which is fiction can be life changing too. I agree. Some of my best philosophies are derived not from classic tomes but from fiction fiction. The other book - before I stray off the path- is Paulo Coelho's "Alchemist" about the shepherd boy in search of buried treasure which he does find after a journey in self discovery. It is, I quote "a magical fable about following your dream". At least that's what the book's cover tells me. I've to confess that nothing life altering has struck me down yet; no revelation has burst upon me and changed my life after reading them. I found "Fault In our stars" to be a sweet tender romance of 16-17 year olds trying to fight death (Old old story- remember Ankhiyon Ke Jharonko Se or better still Love Story) with heavy philosophy and doses of poetry thrust in. It is a fresh take on cancer patients and to some it has probably made a difference.(I'm too old I guess) Just as "The alchemist" I'm told has inspired many. Even the President of United States who swears by it. I believe he carries a copy of it around. Sorry. It didn't do a thing for me. Especially the line about the universe conspiring to get you what you want. It's not happening dude. Not to me. Not to a lot of people I know. Life is just giving us lot of sour lemons and we're trying to make lemonade with them only not succeeding I'm afraid. So call it a case of sour grapes or sour lemons - whichever you prefer. 

Maybe it's just sourpuss old me. 

But our fascination with magic, with fairy tales, with the paranormal, the supernatural, the other realm is never ending. Me included. I was a sucker for Cinderella when I was a kid(ages ago!) and I love Harry Potter. What lies behind it? A deeper search for meaning to this life on earth? Or just a desire to escape into a fantasy world where "happily ever after" exists? Because If Santiago in "Alchemist" had failed to find his treasure then maybe we wouldn't have tagged the book "life changing" right? Because we know there is no treasure at the end of the rainbow. But we like someone who tells us there is. So I guess it's a bit of both. The need to find some meaning to our lives as well as escape into the "happily ever after" fairy tales and supernatural worlds that offer tales of these splendid beings with amazing powers while in reality we labor on in Mr. Biswas's (Naipaulian) little universe. Slightly ridiculous, resilient, vulnerable, poignant and tragic beings fighting our little battles. And losing most of the time.