Chimes

 Thus spoke a little flake of cloud over a cosy valley in small hills:

A dole out from the infinite unmanifest to the finite manifest, I am just a tiny speck of cloudy phenomenon casting its shadow in a little valley. From the unbound infinity to cosmos to solar system to Earth atmosphere to this little fleeting shadow, I am simply a ripple, a pulsating throbbing through which the whole feels its own being!

**

Democracy needs champions, says President Biden. And who is a champion? It's one who fights for a cause without much calculations about the possible fallouts. Unfortunately, neither the world's largest nor the world's most powerful democracy fits the tag of being a champion for democracy. The biggest threat to democracy right now is the CCP authoritarianism. Little Lithuania is indeed a champion of democracy. They are the only country who have officially recognised Taiwan at the cost of being cornered by the fuming dragon. My conviction has never wavered that democracy is the best among the worst forms of governance. It has its limitations but still has enough space to allow an individual to nurture decent amount of dignity and independence of spirit. I also believe in one China. But I view mainland China as part of Taiwan, not vice versa. Authoritarianism has to fall inevitably. It's almost a natural law. It comes with its own undoing. So there will be a day when there will be a unified democratic republic of China. And no wonder it will then be among the best nations on earth in the real sense of it. Don't feel sceptical about it. This probability is surer than any other reality. It's only about time. Till than we can take inspiration from the little champion of democracy, Lithuania.

**

Maybe I was feeling a bit bigger than my skin, the very same human tendency to be proud and vain. And instantly mother existence makes me realise my real status. Standing near a clump of ferns, a few mosquitoes hovered around me and one of them nicely settled for a little feast. I am also a food for some other constituent of existence, I realise. Nearby, a rockchat snaps up a carpenter ant from the ground. Well, it's nice to be reminded that apart from whatever notions I have about my being and significance, I am also a mosquito feed.

**

Don't be too serious about anything, as Charles Dickens says 'trifles make the sum of life'.

**

The marigold leaves are a bit dull among the bright blossoms. They look dusty and need bathing, I realise. I sprinkle some water over them and they immediately say thanks through a soft, gentle fragrance wafting around me, embracing me, strengthening my solitude, adding to the smiles in my life, further calming down my nerves and say, "All is well because we are nothing but your very own smile!!"

**

Pre-script: Female readers kindly replace "She" by "He".

Gibran: She was fashioned with the gentleness of the dove, the evasiveness of serpents, the vanity of the peacock and the cruelty of the wolf.

**

Life can be tricky, 

if even about the simplest issues 

you are too frisky,

Prudence is to be at ease with situations and time, 

Complications then wouldn't chime,

And days would pass like a free rhyme!

**

Poetry died a long time ago, the real poetry. Now it's pseudo-poetry just like we abound in so many pseudos. Things stand in letter only now, as we have slaughtered the spirit. We are lesser humane now, so our muscled, hardened, tainted emotions fall short of conveying that unstigmatized purity that found outlet through this great art. Sad but that's true. Change for more complexity is inevitable. May be there were still purer times than the pristine days of classical poetry. Maybe development is inversely proportional to goodness.

**

A list of my books

 Dear readers, your encouragement always inspires me to continue writing. Thank you all who have always supported and encouraged me on my path of learning to write better with each new book! God bless!

1. Lazy Ways To Truth : https://www.amazon.in/dp/9390767458?ref=myi_title_dp

2. Love the Ultimate Alchemy : https://www.amazon.in/dp/9389600251?ref=myi_title_dp

3. Ice Cubes On Desert Sands : https://www.amazon.in/dp/B07MFBCM7S?ref=myi_title_dp

4. Lost in Red Mist : https://www.amazon.in/dp/9386148269?ref=myi_title_dp

5. Beyond and Beneath : https://www.amazon.in/dp/8193238214?ref=myi_title_dp

6. Chimp, Champ and Chops : https://www.amazon.in/dp/8193238222?ref=myi_title_dp

7. A Half House

https://www.amazon.in/A-half.../dp/8193238206/ref=sr_1_3...

8. Faceless Gods

https://www.amazon.in/Faceles.../dp/9384049352/ref=sr_1_2...

9. The Wicked Googly

https://www.amazon.in/Wicked.../dp/1685093175/ref=sr_1_1...

10, The Night Sun

https://www.24by7publishing.com/buy-books.html

A few moments inside a bus

Ten years is a big time to unleash massive changes in a metropolis like Delhi. But certain features are so deep-rooted that one can feel their shadows even while the things seem to have changed drastically. This sketch about Delhi is exactly a decade old but I’m sure you will still feel these lingering shadows when you visit the national capital.

Here is an early December morning. Salutes Delhi! To make it sound normal you are two-eyed. But they have different visions, different dreams, different destinations. One of your pan-shots swankily zooms on the glitz-and-glamour of the resurgent India. Whether it is right-eye pan-shot or left-eye, I do not know. But yes the other eye's camera shot pervasively covers the classic tragedies spread out in black and white. It’s a grizzled, murky screen having classic comicities and tragedies spinning, whirring around the same axis. It’s Muhharram today. Many offices are closed. It just means you can drop your purse on the DTC bus floor and still you are left with a realistic chance of retrieving it. Eight wonder almost! So at least you can see a few feet around you. Great solace indeed. The air too is not stuffed with guffaws let out by infected throats and lungs, disordered stomachs, cheap scents and Deos from Palika Bazaar and above all the usual individual and collective frustrations. See, when the maker offered these buses (allegedly along with the kickbacks per piece and which is more important to our rampaging politicians) the real cost of the machine is just meant to carry this type of load, the festival load, once-in-a-time load when people do not travel on account of holidays or some other emergency.

On this observable stage, a 14-year-old man-kid jumbles into the finally justified interiors of the poor green line. Boy he is a real man, carries a pole that would tower above the poor bus if their vertical components competed. He slants it, his small hands maneuver it smartly and the camel is safely in the room. The pole is the dancing axis of many types of cheapest kid toys as you might say can be afforded by the childhood mushrooming in slums. All fellow-riders watch him in half amuse and half irritation. Lampoons like yours truly even laugh at the free show.

Anyways, coming back to this character valiantly playing its part in the grizzly black and white ever-spooling movie. He rushes to the conductor seat after killing all the apprehensions and objections of the busvala about the pole falling and the kids-stuff getting a playground on their heads. The boy-entrepreneur gets the DTC day-pass costing 40 rupees. Man-o-man! How much this kid earns to afford the pass? Anyways, that is none of our concern like most of the Delhi things should not be. One fact is inescapable: the well-meant boy is well-prepared for the day. The way he has tied the muffler, the way his cheap jacket is buttoned up to the collar, the way trousers well-fit his thin legs and the way well-cleaned shoes purchased from the road-side hawker, all these portend a good successful business plan.

One problem with the new DTC bus is that its doors open too invitingly with a hiss, as if it is specially inviting you for a joy-ride. Carried by the swift winds of one such invitation, an Advasi family raids the semi-occupied bus. The conductor baulks, 'Not without tickets you thieves!' 'Hutt you miser, we have money!' the dark old lady draped in a big raggish blanket shouts. God knows how many of them are in the group! It is a defiant pariah unit cocking a snook at the organized hordes of Delhi. One monkey-like infant immediately grabs the hand-rails overhead and tries gymnastics. One of its hands also bust the balloon tied at the upper end of the toy pole. Both its owner and the conductor shriek painfully.

So many raggish kids carry their unsuspecting selves to the empty seats and dump the gypsy spirit for a while. Their neighbors almost vomit in disgust. They feel their dignity has been severely violated. A slim lady carries a toddler on her shoulder, one infant on her hip and most probably the another one inside her as the glossy black bulge of her abdomen shines from the short kurti she is wearing above the gracious folds of a dirty long skirt. It just becomes a thoroughfare. The conductor fights for tickets. They stand their positions, gibberishly, savagely. And where were they going? Whole of the NCR is their destination. No particular destination means destination everywhere. It is just a matter of holding onto the ride till the fight with the conductor acquires serious colors. And the moment it does, they just dump themselves with the same teasing indecency like they had raided the bus and vanish from the scene. Well, we missed a parting shot. As they get down and try to scrape through the jostling crowd, they block the path of a brand new Mercedes for a long moment. Delhi, salutes! You bear witness to the two paradoxical movie-makings by the camera lenses in your eyes!

December dose

 Dear friends, if life isn't making much of a sense then give an ear to the Voice Inside. Forget about the hoot and holler emanating from the world outside. It simply adds to the confusion. Give an ear to the soft and murmurous cooings emanating from the soul. It has a soft and sympathetic message for you only, your most personal message, meant only for you. Listen to these delicate chimes. It’ll help you in finding peace in chaos. In getting a foothold in the stampede. In feeling rest, repose and respite in the face of constant buffeting by the world around. It’ll help you in breaking the hardest of superficial layers, which suffocate and limit your identity. And put you face to face with your true self, your real worth.

Listen to it, close your eyes and pay attention with all your heart. Just for a change, don’t look far, look closest at yourself. It’ll be as uneventful as looking at a dust particle around your feet. But it changes the universe for you. You will have the biggest message in the softest of whispering phrases! It’ll help you in finding yourself. Happy self-seeking! God bless us all!

**

Reading Ruskin Bond by the Ganges is as good as meditation. He simplifies the complexities of life with his simple, lucid sentences.

**

I had just walloped in Ma Ganga like a farmer's dirty calf after reading these lines by Ruskin Bond:

"I feel drawn to little temples on lonely hilltops. With the mist swirling around them, and the wind humming in the stunted pines, they absorb some of the magic mystery of their surroundings and transmit it to the questing pilgrim."

Biniya is a little girl of 7 who sells flowers on the banks of Ganga Ma. She is into side business also. She charges me ten rupees to click my photos on my mobile. I had started this. Instead of buying her flowers, I asked her once to click my pic and gave her a salary of ten rupees for the job. After that she has taken her job too seriously. Whenever she sees me on the banks of Ganges she offers her photographic skills instead of flowers. "Uncle photo khichva lo!" she says pretty adamantly. She calls me 'photo wale uncle' as her mother informed me. Today as I was wallowing in Ma Ganga's cold waters, she stood on the steps and waited for me to come out. "Go and sell your flowers. You are losing business," I try to shoo her away. But she has better ideas. "Uncle today you have to get a photo. You have got your beard and hair cut so it will be a nice photo," she has her argument in support of her side business. I am helpless. She clicks another assignment. Hands me the phone and asks a review of the photo. "See uncle, I have made you look like a hero." Buttering, eh. And her so called hero type photo has bigger charges. She is an experienced photographer now and charges more. "Uncle 100 rupees for this hero type photo," she demands. I am initially at loss of words. There is an argument and then I save 50 rupees by standing my ground pretty soundly. Now the assignment charge has gone to 50 rupees, so tomorrow onwards I won't take my phone with me and buy her flowers instead. Her little leaf bowl of flowers costs just 10 rupees. That would help both parties. But there was a nice take away from today's shooting. I am actually looking at a nice little temple on a little hill as Biniya does her job. I remember Bond sahab's lines. I too have a fondness for small temples on lonely hills. And there I went to soak a few hours of magic and mystery.

**

Why does truth pinch most of the time? Simple! Because it is no chocolate, sugar candy or mellowable sweetie-pie lump of ice cream. It is hard, sour, iron ball guys. It has pinching rough stony edges to its surface. Come into contact with them and they will take a few flakes from your skin leaving a red or purple bruise depending on the intensity of truth contained in it. Now the question arises, 'Why does it almost always leave a grimace on our face instead of a smile?' The simple fact that all of us almost always rub cold shoulders against this ironed ball having thorns for our soft skin, proves on fact: that we are not subjectively inclined to accept the objective reality as it stands in abstract. But does not that mean that we have moved poles apart from truth and its manifestations while going on the path of individual and collective improvisations at the subjective level. May be the reason for our success in emerging at the top of food chain in the game of 'survival of the fittest' is that we have institutionalized ourselves to negate and defy, and do without, certain basic truths that form the core of creation and nature. Nothing wrong with that! It, however, is paradoxical that most of these scions of truth--against which we have always been taking cudgels--form the core of our moral, humanistic, religious, spiritual and aesthetic vision enshrined in preach books. Strange!

**

Look far away into the mists...but always watch your next step also... take a step...take a pause then and look into the distances before the next step...and go slow....it allows a healthy balance of sight, observation, dreams and imagination. You enjoy the journey and don't bother about destination. Most importantly, moving on from the past is usually a far better journey than you ever imagined!

**

Some moments by the Ganges. Light and dark rippling in the lap of holy fluidity. Soft emotions surface as the soul's tears of joy! O divine mother, my main identity is that of being your son. I feel disburdened of some heaviness. I find the unnecessary extras of life just a dark, blank spot where the face of my ego plays a little, funny, worldly game.

**

The beautiful bunch of roses drizzles its petals on the ground after the heartiest of blooming. Joyful dissolution of the self! A flower blooms up fully. Opens its heart to the elements around. Draws every ounce from its potential to smiles and fragrance. Opens up completely. And then painless dissolve! This dissolution is further expansion only. Now the petals fly around in a broader dimension. Beautiful, self-surrendered parts of its previous existence now lie scattered as pious homage to mother earth. That is the purpose of life. We have to give back something better than what we took. That is evolution, expansion. Like this flower offers fragrance and smiles to mother earth in return for the sunshine, soil and moisture. The sole purpose of our existence is to be a better version of ourselves.

**

A hybrid rose can have nice colour and exquisite design. But it lacks the basic essence of a flower, fragrance. The beauty is skin deep, a mere cosmetic effort at the surface. It's haughty and arrogant, a kind of constriction within itself, an insecurity, a fear, an aloofness, a seperation. The soul is missing. They seem too self-absorbed. Like so many apparently classy, well polished gentry. They stand with touch-me-not attitude. And the bees and butterflies stay away. They find it totally unapproachable. The marigolds, on the other hand, are little humble, down to earth flowers. They aren't showy. They are common looking. But they have a soul, a depth, a delicate fragrance. Most importantly, they have nectar to offer to the butterflies and bees. With their openness and genteel receptivity, they are buzzing with little winged insects. They have broader connection to life and living. I can feel their soul through their soft fragrance as I sit by them. They exist in a dimension where they touch many chords in my heart. The smelless roses are as distant and soulless as a beautiful pic of them or even well designed plastic flowers.

**

It happened 12 years back in Delhi. The moment still stands out somehow. Some brief moments carry far more significance than months and sometimes even years. Hazy darkness outside the railway station. A friar approached me with mystical pride and spiritual pomp. He asked for alms (which can be money only given the times we are living in). I found myself offering him Rs. 10. A Gentleman verbally poked me for my meekness and abetment of begging. The friar shot back, ‘Do you think it's only about money. If you think so, take this!’ He proffered a Rs. 100 note. The gentleman had to beat a retreat. The friar smiled at me and melted into the crowd after blessing me.

**

If you have time and softness to plant flowers, take some time to appreciate their beauty once they blossom up. Needless to say, always spare time for your children once you have taken time to produce them.

**

If you are hurrying and a tree's branch braces against your head or face, don't get irritated. It's merely a soft greeting asking you to be restful. Accept it. You can run fast and still be at rest within. What else is meditation? It's the ability to be still within even while you are walking or dispensing what life needs you to do in order to survive.

**

Most of the time we are self-charged on the grand mission of aggravating our own miseries. We are suitably helped all along by our ability to hold onto the master illusion that others are responsible for all the shit flying around in our lives.

A cosmetic smile Vs a soulful one

 A hybrid rose can have nice colour and exquisite design. But it lacks the basic essence of a flower, fragrance. The beauty is skin deep, a mere cosmetic effort at the surface. It's haughty and arrogant, a kind of constriction within itself, an insecurity, a fear, an aloofness, a seperation. The soul is missing. They seem too self-absorbed. Like so many apparently classy, well polished gentry. They stand with touch-me-not attitude. And the bees and butterflies stay away. They find it totally unapproachable. The marigolds, on the other hand, are little humble, down to earth flowers. They aren't showy. They are common looking. But they have a soul, a depth, a delicate fragrance. Most importantly, they have nectar to offer to the butterflies and bees. With their openness and genteel receptivity, they are buzzing with little winged insects. They have broader connection to life and living. I can feel their soul through their soft fragrance as I sit by them. They exist in a dimension where they touch many chords in my heart. The smelless roses are as distant and soulless as a beautiful pic of them or even well designed plastic flowers.

Open up...and spread out...

 Joyful dissolution of the self! A flower blooms up fully. Opens its heart to the elements around. Draws every ounce from its potential to smiles and fragrance. Opens up completely. And then painless dissolve! This dissolution is further expansion only. Now the petals fly around in a broader dimension. Beautiful, self-surrendered parts of its previous existence now lie scattered as pious homage to mother earth. That is the purpose of life. We have to give back something better than what we took. That is evolution, expansion. Like this flower offers fragrance and smiles to mother earth in return for the sunshine, soil and moisture. The sole purpose of our existence is to be a better version of ourselves.

Some bright thoughts on a gloomy smoggy day

 Feeling the heat? Don't worry, cool winds will pick up soon. Feeling cold? Worry not, the sun is just about to shine from the cloud's corner. Getting hunted? Don't worry there never is a prey who isn't a hunter itself. As the proverb goes, when it floods, the fish eat the ants. And as the waters recede and leave the ground dry, the ants eat the fish. The circumstantial winds are equally for and against all of us. So just dance to the tunes of life. Like grass does. Like flexible plants do. They dance and enjoy the most, open to the winds from all directions. No point in having a tiff with life. We may not have too much control over the music of life that beats around us. But we can surely take a jig and go for dancing the steps of our choice. Or even hop like a frog if you are dance-challenged like me. Hopping around is no less fun. Telling from personal experience.

**

Guys, individual freedom has always remained a fundamental ideal since historical times. However, it is not to be achieved by casting off all society and civilization or by going back to a so-called 'natural state'. The perfection of man, his freedom, his liberty, his happiness, and the growing mastery of his own destiny, all are dependent upon a clear understanding of certain laws of nature and society. We have to accept that both nature and society have worked according to these laws to enable us to get the idea of this so called 'freedom'. So the pursuit of the interest of the baby should not turn us blind to the interests of the mother.

**

Many a thing changed over the centuries. In fact almost everything changed to take a completely different shape and connotation. But the religious differences are the same. They seem beyond the pale of time. Blood-shedding and hate in the name of religion is the same. Is not it high time that the world community starts dismantling the hold of exclusivist religious principles on people and states? It is the time for an all-inclusive world religion, the religion of all humanity, humanism. It can have Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Hindu and other major Gods and deities of other sects in its fold. The main issue is how do we convince the beholders of Puritanism in various religions, particularly the fundamentalist Islamists, to see beyond the rigid confines of their unchanging tradition. Most of the religions are melting under the warm sun of internationalism. But the medieval icy blocks in the stream of Islam are holding their archaic laws and principles solidly crystallized like the polar snows. The question is, will Islam ever be lenient to the non-Muslims? Modern Islamists will have to dismantle the institutionalized psyche among the Muslim masses against the kafirs and welcome non-discriminatory universal brotherhood as His Holiness Prophet Mohammad envisioned. World peace and harmony depends on this question. If internationalism succeeds to liberate humanism buried under religious fanaticism, we can expect to have a peaceful world following the religion of humanism. In any case, religion has to be systematically dismantled to lay the foundation of a common world. China will attempt to do it with its atheist state policy. But that will turn this world a big jail. Better that it’s done under democratic principles.

**

Pick up a dry leaf and take out the carpenter ant that has got into the toilet seat. I sometimes rescue even house flies and mosquitoes. They will be a nuisance, one may say. But the chance to be a savior is too big a reward for such deterrent considerations. I try to keep my foot on a hold as a beetle crosses, or a skink crawls away, or a frog hops away. I know a tread of caution is for my own benefit. It will save me from a fall sometime in future. If you learn to not walk ove insects and beetles on the way, you will surely escape the thorns and potholes of life that come your way. If you can rescue an insect or bug of your dislike from a basket, basin or drain, you are prepared to forgive people. These tiny acts of salvage hone the spirit of sympathy, love and care in you. They blunt the edge of apathy and neglect that sees us turning a blind eye to so many unbecoming things around us, where we can bring a positive change without creating too much turbulence in our lives. It’s better to have a little bit of time to stop and take out a drowning beetle. If not for this, you will hardly try to save a drowning man in future. Goodness is a habit. It can be practiced. The vast workshop of life has so many tiny tables for us to carry out our little experiments. To me rescuing an elephant and saving an ant is more or less the same. That particular savior emotion is the main thing. So watch your step and avoid crushing insects unnecessarily. You gain a lot from it. You learn to be careful and responsible. Most of the times when we think we are helping others, we are in fact helping our own selves.

**

The first half of November is supposed to be the best. The winter is opening like a soft bud. The birds sing at their best. It proves it’s the best part of season. A beautiful, fluid mix of balmy cold and warmth. But we have turned it the worst. The metallic haze and toxic smog grips the skies like the steely talons of an eagle strung over the soft fur of a rabbit. The eyes burn. Throats ache. The sip of life, the air, turns a slow dose of death. The north Indian planes look like a huge prison. The sun looks pale and sick-faced as it peeks weakly over the polluted planet. But then even on such a sickly gloomy morning there are thousands of swallows flying in the sky. So many of them! With so many birds, it seems as if everything will be all right. The sky seems to bless the earth through these freely flying birds. It’s the time to plant more trees and flowers. It’s the time to walk a bit slower and do something that will leave the planet worth staying for the coming generation.

**

Most of the time our hate for someone is merely an instrument to undo and hide our own guilt about the incidents and happenings which took us to a point of unbridgeable differences with that person. Hate is a very convenient tool. It’s fuelled by anger. With the tools of hate and anger, it’s very easy to put all the blame on someone else for the fallouts. In our own court, the hammer of hate and anger sets our conscience free while holding the other party culpable for all the wrongs that have befallen.

**

All of us want to leave a mark on the running water and blowing air. And all of us fail. Only this unquenchable urge wins. But then maybe a bit of laziness is what we need after all this burnout. Slowing down helps avoid the explosion, both individual and collective. We have run too blindly and now stare at the edge of a blind drop. Treading carefully will save us. Walk slow and with poise.

**

A little ant is dragging the huge carcass of a carpenter ant. Hasn't creation got an instinct for carrying burden ingrained very deeply in its fabric? There is an everlasting pull for expansion and more complexity. How can we avoid complexity of life then? Going against the primal instinct is a sort of reverse engineering. This is the evolutionary challenge. A kind of lavitation instead of gravitation. Fording the river. The ultimate salvation. The cessation of the urge to pull the burden and still be joyful. A state where every burden transforms into bliss. Pull your burden little lady. But don't forget to rest under the shade of the fragrant roses on the way. They are as meaningful as the weight you pull. And the journey turns joyful if you pause and greet the flowers on the way. And don't forget to acknowledge the presence of thorns on the path as well. Just be careful of them as they have their meaning also. They are there to help you watch your step and avoid a fatal fall. A bit of pinch now and then serves it purpose because it maybe avoids a fatal fall in the long run.

**

A powder blue beauty is seen in the washbasin. A woodlouse, a dweller of old, rotten woods. Maybe it got its adventure too far and landed into the basin. Now it's a fun game, go up and slump down again. Maybe they take their struggles as easily as feasting and fun. So here it goes with its business. I take a pic and since it's a patient model for the shoot, it gets its reward. It gets rescued on a dry leaf and I leave it near a pile of dead wood. It's a very interesting little bug. Look at the range of its names: Granny grey in Wales, boat-builder in Newfoundland, Butcher boy in Australia, Carpenter in Labrador, Charlie pig in Norfolk, Cheesy Lou, Cheesy papa, Cheesy pig, Daddy grampher, Dandy postman, Fat pigs, Grumper pig, Granny grunter and scores of more interesting names. In every English county it has a different name. It can be a good pet for buggy parents. And is, most importantly, harmless for humans as it doesn't spread diseases. So raise a brood and give them as many names as your funny creativity allows you because they take name-calling very easily and in good spirits.

**

The hare may have its huffing and puffing competitiveness. But it lives very anxiously. A tortoise, on the other hand, goes on its journey that isn't defined in terms of mileage and distances. It's both joy and motion at the same time. Welcome to the snaily pace of the tortoise world! Here you acknowledge the smile of a wayside wild flower and greet the lone beetle on its journey.

**

And now dear earthlings, the winter softly coos: 'Dear, I'll cool down the burning hot field of realities that tortures your soft feet!' Open up to the invitation. Give mother nature a helping hand. She will put our house in order far too soon than we believe. But we have to do our bit first. Please resolve to plant a few trees and see them grow up strong with mandatory post-plantation care.

**

A bit of chik-chik in the lung-busting smog

 Isn’t life all about taking smart, clever as well as wise short-cuts to beat the puzzling array of the problems randomly cropping around us? The cosmic life is an expansion for more sophistication. And our individual entity as a part of the whole is an expression of that expansion. As the newest of patterns—which look like problems to us—pop up around us, the sole purpose of a meaningful life is to keep the inherent simplicity that forms the foundation of all the lateral sprouts and shoots in the game of creation. So be the solution provider. It’s the hallmark of a life well lived. Behind the most complex of a phenomenon there is an amazing simplicity. Read that. Those cute fundamentals will tell you that every situation is a living being and we are a cute aide-de-camp to the bigger game around. So don’t lose heart as the sandstorms hit. Keep walking. Always there are the easiest of routes to the toughest of destinations. Every hard situation has the softest of a solution. So there is no hard problem in the real sense. Our solutions make them so. When in the face of a tough situation blame your solution not the situation. Situations stand neutral like the fundamental laws of science and nature. Play your game well. Let it be a fine innings before being recalled to the pavilion. Most importantly, the meaning of ‘universe’ is ‘one unified song’. Listen to the symphony. It has a soft and sympathetic message for you only. Listen to these delicate murmurs and it will help you in breaking the hardest of superficial, outer cores. And as you dive deeper, the surface turbulence is left behind leaving you in the pools of peace. Dive well!

**

Usually weaknesses and inhibitions end up being taken as goodness. Most of the people never had the opportunity to misuse their endowments and power—which makes us qualify people as mean or bad—thus ending up as nice fellows. Empower the people economically, or any other means qualifying as empowerment, and then wait and watch. I think, most of the people whom we count as good fellows are simply helpless. I have seen a few really good fellows who are empowered at many levels and still count a human as a human irrespective of caste, class or creed.

**

Taiwan of course will be part of China one day in future. But it will be the mainland going with the island not vice-versa. The model of monopoly and autocracy is inherently weak. It is bound to collapse. The only matter is about time. Of course we will have a democratic, unified China one day. But a sinking ship sucks in a lot of water. The communists will, no doubt, breed a lot of mischief before that. Its repercussions will reach far ends of mother earth.

**

Hinduism is the primal faith on mother earth. It has the deepest roots as far as faith is concerned. Brahmanism is far smaller as a philosophy. It’s merely a particular approach to the socio-political and economic domain of our society followed by a group of Hindus. Brahmanism, I would say, doesn’t constitute even 10% of Hinduism. It’s a very small cult to assert socio-political and economic hegemony of a small section of Hindus. No problem with that. It’s always about dominance by one group or the other. The problem arises when these adherents of only 10% of Hinduism hold the rest by neck and try to portray Brahmanism as the entire Sanatan Dharma. Brahmanism is lucrative and swashbuckling to influence shallow minds to gain parochial advantage. I don’t have any problem even with it. The only issue is, please don’t tell me that Brahmanism is Hinduism. It’s attractive I know because there is a great show and turbulence on the surface. But Brahmanism is merely little pieces of foam among the waves in the universal sea of Hinduism.

When there are many birds in the sky!

 The first half of November is supposed to be the best. The winter is opening like a soft bud. The birds sing at their best. It proves it’s the best part of season. A beautiful, fluid mix of balmy cold and warmth. But we have turned it the worst. The metallic haze and toxic smog grips the skies like the steely talons of an eagle strung over the soft fur of a rabbit. The eyes burn. Throats ache. The sip of life, the air, turns a slow dose of death. The north Indian planes look like a huge prison. The sun looks pale and sick-faced as it peeks weakly over the polluted planet. But then even on such a sickly gloomy morning there are thousands of swallows flying in the sky. So many of them! With so many birds, it seems as if everything will be all right. The sky seems to bless the earth through these freely flying birds. It’s the time to plant more trees and flowers. It’s the time to walk a bit slower and do something that will leave the planet worth staying for the coming generation.

Slow down please!

 Pick up a dry leaf and take out the carpenter ant that has got into the toilet seat. I sometimes rescue even house flies and mosquitoes. They will be a nuisance, one may say. But the chance to be a savior is too big a reward for such deterrent considerations. I try to keep my foot on a hold as a beetle crosses, or a skink crawls away, or a frog hops away. I know a tread of caution is for my own benefit. It will save me from a fall sometime in future. If you learn to not walk over insects and beetles on the way, you will surely escape the thorns and potholes of life that come your way. If you can rescue an insect or bug of your dislike from a basket, basin or drain, you are prepared to forgive people. These tiny acts of salvage hone the spirit of sympathy, love and care in you. They blunt the edge of apathy and neglect that sees us turning a blind eye to so many unbecoming things around us, where we can bring a positive change without creating too much turbulence in our lives. It’s better to have a little bit of time to stop and take out a drowning beetle. If not for this, you will hardly try to save a drowning man in future. Goodness is a habit. It can be practiced. The vast workshop of life has so many tiny tables for us to carry out our little experiments. To me rescuing an elephant and saving an ant is more or less the same. That particular savior emotion is the main thing. So watch your step and avoid crushing insects unnecessarily. You gain a lot from it. You learn to be careful and responsible. Most of the times when we think we are helping others, we are in fact helping our own selves.

The busy ant

 Hasn't creation got an instinct for carrying burden ingrained very deeply in its fabric? There is an everlasting pull for expansion and more complexity. How can we avoid complexity of life then? Going against the primal instinct is a sort of reverse engineering. This is the evolutionary challenge. A kind of lavitation instead of gravitation. Fording the river. The ultimate salvation. The cessation of the urge to pull the burden and still be joyful. A state where every burden transforms into bliss. Pull your burden little lady. But don't forget to rest under the shade of the fragrant roses on the way. They are as meaningful as the weight you pull. And the journey turns joyful if you pause and greet the flowers on the way. And don't forget to acknowledge the presence of thorns on the path as well. Just be careful of them as they have their meaning also. They are there to help you watch your step and avoid a fatal fall. A bit of pinch now and then serves it purpose because it maybe avoids a fatal fall in the long run.

The tale of Cheesy Papa

 A powder blue beauty is seen in the washbasin. A woodlouse, a dweller of old, rotten woods. Maybe it got its adventure too far and landed into the basin. Now it's a fun game, go up and slump down again. Maybe they take their struggles as easily as feasting and fun. So here it goes with its business. I take a pic and since it's a patient model for the shoot, it gets its reward. It gets rescued on a dry leaf and I leave it near a pile of dead wood. It's a very interesting little bug. Look at the range of its names: Granny grey in Wales, boat-builder in Newfoundland, Butcher boy in Australia, Carpenter in Labrador, Charlie pig in Norfolk, Cheesy Lou, Cheesy papa, Cheesy pig, Daddy grampher, Dandy postman, Fat pigs, Grumper pig, Granny grunter and scores of more interesting names. In every English county it has a different name. It can be a good pet for buggy parents. And is, most importantly, harmless for humans as it doesn't spread diseases. So raise a brood and give them as many names as your funny creativity allows you because they take name-calling very easily and in good spirits.

An invitation for laziness

 The hare may have its huffing and puffing competitiveness. But it lives very anxiously. A tortoise, on the other hand, goes on its journey that isn't defined in terms of mileage and distances. It's both joy and motion both at the same time. Welcome to the snaily pace of the tortoise world! Here you acknowledge the smile of a wayside wild flower and greet the lone beetle on its journey.

Some thoughts in support of a Smile

 Victory gives you a trophy; failure gives you a chance to fight for a still bigger one. Keep going. But never miss the beautiful scenes of life on both sides of your path. As long as you enjoy the free bouquets of nature around, life no longer gets defined in victory-defeat terms. It acquires a larger dimension. It turns meaningful by itself. And joy and happiness turn the natural, unconditional fruits of the path. Journey well. Never miss your smile.

**

Well there never was a destination. The only destination has been to move from a painful journey to a joyful one. It's a very subtle change in gears: From the outer shadows--which are ever shifting and fleeting--to the inner substance which is ever unperturbed and waiting for the journeyman to come home at long last.

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So much for the conceptualized set of sins and vices. We have too hypothetical concepts to tame the basic instincts in humans. A vice is not a vice everywhere. A so called 'vice' with larger motivation loses its dark shades. Without a supportive chorus in the background, it again becomes a loathsome act in abstract. But there is hardly anything in total abstractness, except in the pages of books and the brains revising these for one-upmanship to win a point. Reality is too muddled up. There is hardly any vice that goes totally unjustified. And rarely a virtue that stands perfectly justified. Read Dostoevsky's Gambler. It treats gambling as a viceful and then not so viceful art driven by the pure psychosis of a helpless heart mad after the chancy windfalls of win and loss and even beyond.

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Now I understand why economically challenged households have bigger treasure in the form of children. As Mr. Micawber says in David Copperfield:

"In our children we live again, and that, under the pressure of pecuniary difficulties, any accession to their number is doubly welcome."

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To lead a successful social life, invest in a few relations wisely and with soft emotions. Work and behave with people in a manner as to have two or three persons who will always have a room for you in their house, half a dozen at least who will always have a chair for you at their dining table, a few dozen who will always have softness for you in their hearts and a few hundred who will surely smile at you as you pass them. This, dear readers, is the hallmark of a peaceful, happy, mundane life of a common man. If the ingredients of joy are so earthly, why aim for cosmic shots then to find meaning in life?

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While we fret, fume and get frustrated for the things that we don't have, feeling wronged both by the system and destiny, there are people we carry on uncomplaining, even though they have just a fraction of what we have, but deserve 100 times more than us. Just give a careful look around. We have many in our locality itself so there is no need to pack bags and search in far of lands. Doesn't it makes you feel the luckiest of the lot. A sense of gratitude needs this much of attention.

Many times we think we don't have enough for our talent. So many times we crib about having less for what we do. But then there are the lives who could have been better than any of us just that they were born in a ditch and circumstances never allowed them to come out. I see scores of such unsung heroes on a daily basis and find myself humbled and cut down to my real size.

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What are tough circumstances? They are just some sick moments needing doctoring from you. Take the pulse of difficulties. Analyse impartially like a doctor. Put up the diagnosis. Prescribe a solution and come out hale and hearty.

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Don't take life as a mystery. It's an open book. Each line has just one message: The time you are allowing to slip away without celebrating my existence (and your own -- both are same by the way) will never come back. So celebrate life. Light new lamps of exuberance, fresh dreams, undying enthusiasm, unrelenting creativity and many more. Happy Diwali everyone!

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A continuous run is no fun without rest, repose and pause. Inviting you to slow down and have a bit of rest...fast mode has no meaning without the slow mode. A run is fruitless without rest. In any case we have to stop to reap the rewards of our running, huffing and puffing...

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A little song book of eternal hope, love and loss. A cup of tea brewed with night blooming jasmine flowers. A perfect date on partially sunny warm day! Ordinary has the hallmark of perfection. What else one needs in life?!

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The potted rose has turned into a heavy bouquet of roses. Giving its best shot at life! You no longer fear death once you have given your best to life and blossom the potential mother nature has given you. Smile full and sadness vanishes. Light fully and darkness turns on its heels. And what is a flower? It's simply mother earth smiling as you carefully caress a bit of soil with loving hands. We create blossoms with our emotions. The potential is already there. What we need is a gentle emotion and a bit of smile to create something that adds to mother earth's smile.

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And now dear earthlings, the winter softly coos: 'Dear, I'll cool down the burning hot field of realities that tortures your soft feet!' Open up to the invitation. Give mother nature a helping hand. She will put our house in order far too soon than we believe. But we have to do our bit first. Please resolve to plant a few trees and see them grow up strong with mandatory post-plantation care.

Be a creator

 Giving its best shot at life! You no longer fear death once you have given your best to life and blossom the potential mother nature has given you. Smile full and sadness vanishes. Light fully and darkness turns on its heels. And what is a flower? It's simply mother earth smiling as you carefully caress a bit of soil with loving hands. We create blossoms with our emotions. The potential is already there. What we need is a gentle emotion and a bit of smile to create something that adds to mother earth's smile.

An invitation for laziness to see the truth in slow mode

 A continuous run is no fun without rest, repose and pause. Inviting you to slow down and have a bit of rest...fast mode has no meaning without the slow mode. A run is fruitless without rest. In any case we have to stop to reap the rewards of our running, huffing and puffing...

The puppy-touch of unconditional love

 If one fish can spoil the entire pond, can a single lotus do the same from the side of beauty? Well, it serves a big purpose if we believe so. Let’s believe that an ounce of goodness is enough to counterbalance tons of evil. This belief itself serves a big purpose. It keeps the hope alive for love, joy and compassion.

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It is so easy to react on impulse to the instincts driven by hate and revenge, and so difficult to postpone the very same, think coolly, and take calculated measures and respond. Our success and standing in life is decided by the time gap between raw impulse and cool deliberation. As we move towards lessening this gap we take a firmer grip on the wheel of life. There comes a time when impulsive reaction and cool deliberation merge into one. Then you are in the driving seat and this mind your servant. In that position, you create, you become a creator. You are no longer a piece of mere creation. 

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A stray puppy licked my hands...its tiny tail wagging with loads of greetings. It was so friendly, so pure and honest. The puppy feels far more loving than so many smart humans having super-egos who just love to hiss and bite...hiss and bite....hiss and bite! 

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Dark is the poor sidekick of light. It just exists to provide a canvas on which the multihued colors of light get painted in dazzling arrays and patterns.

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What is the difference between love and infatuation? Infatuation is that glittering fake jewel that glitters like most of the modern things in design, pattern and finish. Love is the real gold, smiling unceremoniously with its subdued colors and toned-down purity. And all of us are jumping over the barbed wires of infatuation, our emotions bleeding, to reach the compound of love.

Maradona

 The archetypal distressed genius, Maradona, who wrote the shimmering lines of his life with his left foot (and left hand), died on November 25 at the age of 60. He always courted skirmishes on and off the field. Beginning as a cheeky burglar involved in daylight robbery, the destiny catapulted him to become the audacious marauder playing tricks with feigns, passing steps and acceleration and stops and side turns. It flummoxed the opponents.  

He had a tendency to steer around the normal as much as he veered around the defenders. To him the world itself looked like he was in a stadium, sidestepping over social norms and sometimes even the law. No wonder, he remained a pleasant, unbridled, obese trickster even long after he hang his boots. An unfettered and effervescent spirit, we may say.

The stocky paragon of Argentina pride inspired a fierce devotion. To the millions of his followers, it was a quasi-religious experience. You could love him or hate him, but you couldn’t ignore him. His innings on this planet has turned out to be a eulogy to a life in tantalizing excess ranging from superstardom to drugs to domestic abuse to guns to cocaine to involvement with organized crime: A lotus out of the muddled tumult of muddy waters. Or we can say, it was an awe-inspiring darkness coupled with the silver-lining of his genius.

He flirted with football with an impetuous cunningness. Moderation and discipline wasn’t in his dictionary for it was a testimony to excess in all he did and thought. A banner sums it up: ‘It does not matter what you have done with your life, it matters what you have done with our lives.’ He was indeed a heady rock star who commanded the stage.

‘I am Maradona, who makes goals, who makes mistakes. I can take it all, I have shoulders big enough to fight with everybody…’ He gave enough credit to his vaunting words through his Aztecan sorcery with football at the Mexico stadium.    

From winning the 1986 world cup indisputably single handedly to be unceremoniously kicked out of the 1994 event on doping charges, he dribbled between glory and ignominy. God was with him through ‘the hand of the god.’ At one end of his excellence, he is credited with the goal of the century. But then his gluttony for goals in life included food, alcohol and drugs also. In fact, Maradona and moderation never fitted in closely. From a lithe demigod of an athlete, he went on to turn into a sniggering puffed up drugs addict. From holding the world cup, and the consequent slaloming into countless hearts, to barely holding his life in his fist after a cocaine-born heart failure twenty years ago, he had hit crest and trough of life without injuring his reputation.

The ‘Hand of God’ punching the ball into the English net during the 1986 world cup quarter finals. His ruggedness was pinching but his playing style was far more bewitching. In his football mad home country, he was the quintessential ‘Golden Boy’. Like he out-jumped the England goalkeeper Peter Shilton, almost twice his height, feigning to head but hoodwinking the referee by patting the ball with his left hand, to score the ‘Hand of God’ goal, he jumped over literally all norms to score goals and lead life the way his free-will dictated.

Who can forget the goal of the century!? Just four minutes after the ‘hand of god’, he hoodwinked all realistic expectations even from normal geniuses. His 44 strides in 11 seconds involving 12 touches gave us the greatest goal of the century. The 1986 Mexico world cup belonged to one man only. He madly burst into boxes. He crazily brushed off defenders. He maniacally squared off the ball towards the net. He magically outmuscled his tall and giant-type markers. His stinging left footers would be drawn to the net even from the toughest angle. Like a farmer ploughs through soil, his flicks and dribbles scythed through a slew of defenders and hapless goalkeepers. The blast of raw energy through his stocky bundle of animalistic muscles left him an autocrat on the turf.

Polarity melted in the photogenic blizzard of his dazzling runs. He was an angel as well as a devil, a rogue and a genius in the same vein. He was too far from the singularity of existence and very near some unpredictable multitude. He was reckless, brazen, desperado, sublime, elegant and graceful in a space of few minutes between the ‘Hand of the God’ to the ‘goal of the century’, the latter almost divine in terms of its guts and audacity. He gathers the ball to his side in the stadium, swings and opens up two defenders, blazes on like a bursting comet, chest puffed out, his tongue leering and jeering and cutting across like a knife through butter, cutting the moorings of a posse of 7 English defenders to romp home to glory. This mesmeric run is unsurpassed. Those 11 seconds, and a run of 60 yards, beginning from his yard to the final romping home after rounding the English goalkeeper, involving stepping on the ball, setting right, left and forward thrusts like a brute steam engine, the opposition scattered in disarray, he creates history. Just four years after the Falklands Islands war, where his country lost to the opponents on the turf now, he had given enough to the entire nation to forget the bruise and celebrate victory on the playground. The sweet redemption, almost a kind of salvation for the millions of souls.     

The stocky and strangely built spiral of life from a small shanty town to superstardom had glorious twists as well as dark knots of drug addiction in his stormy flings with life. He flirted with death with as much ease as he did with the ball, the crazy behemoth.

As the supernova preparing to die out with a dazzle, the tantalizing little giant had to be lifted out of his seat as a bloated behemoth during a world cup match in Russia in 2018.

Imagine his hold on the psyches of fans across continents. A band of Egyptian bandits freed a group of Argentine tourists after coming to know that they were from Maradona’s country.  A hero for the disadvantaged and unprivileged, his pics on T-shirts boosted the morale of those who were born in slums but had stars in their eyes.

His moves, both on the field and in the larger arena of life, were sublime, uplifting, farcical, even tragic, all mixed in an out-of-normal concoction. His outspoken tongue gave a good company to his magical left foot in expressing the bulging life and spirit in him. No wonder he was a salvation to an entire generation of Argentina.  

His casket lay at the state presidential palace draped in national flag and his famous number 10 jersey displayed before the final rights. Three days of national mourning becoming that of a head of the state. Here lay the almost singular hope of the country throttled by the military junta, economic backwardness and defeat in the Falklands war. Such full of life men come once in a rare while. Rest in peace brother Maradona!

The best flower

 Treat of the day! The tiny sadabahar in the crack of the wall bears a flower. There are hundreds of bigger flowering plants on the ground having dozens of petalous smiles. What makes this little flower exceptional? An entire season’s rains slipped down the wall. It’s not in mother earth’s lap where she stores water for her kids. It just has a hairline crack in the plastered wall to cling to its moisture of survival. Thousands of water drops slip away and then just an ounce of water may be clings to the narrowest root space. Fed like pampered children, the garden has hundreds of flowers. But this solitary flower high on the plastered wall is special. Blossoming is no slave to the conventional parameters of height, weight, the soil around roots, nutrition, the amount of rain or any other circumstantial fact. It’s only about giving the best with what you have. Given its tough conditions, this tiny flower grew in millimeters, while the rest of the more privileged flowers on the ground grew in inches. Their life might be measured in feet and hundreds of flowers. But what is exceptional about the fact of their existence? They are the happy-go-lucky types. Their smiles stand on mother earth’s piety. This but is a brave flower. It clung to survival, just staying a couple of inches of a fragile sapling high in the wall in the hot sweltering summer heat. It waited and waited with patience for more rains and when they came it added a couple of more inches to its height and there comes the flower. It’s basically about reaching home and fulfilling your destiny irrespective of the circumstances. What we get isn’t in our hands, but what we do with what we have is surely our calling. The smile of this flower is worth hundreds of lesser mortals in the garden below. It’s a proud flower, no wonder it’s there high in the air above the rest. 

So dear friends, please avoid the mistake of cribbing about your circumstances of life. A lot many things definitely lie beyond our control. It’s better to accept certain facts. Take it as destiny. But that’s just half of the story. With what has been given to you by the quirks of fate, you are in the driving seat and juggle your pieces to make your own destiny. Like this little plant does. It blossoms a flower in the toughest of a situation and completes its journey, fulfils its meaning of being a flower. You too can blossom your flower with what you have been given. So forget about what you don’t have, just make use of what you have. You too are up for a flowery reward. Best wishes!