Silence

 Each word is incomplete, just an abstract, broken fragment born of thoughts arising in the mind. And the mind itself a grainy fragment of the overall consciousness. Words are mere grains of sand. With sandgrains we try to make castles, huge castles that we cast in pursuance of the ever-missing meaning of life. Sand slips, we go for awkward flips. Words are mere broken arrows. How will one even win a battle with broken arrows. Words are mere sparks, temporary flashes coming out of the endless coffers of silence. They just give a little flash of light around our feet as we grope in the darkness seeking a way out of our puzzles. Words are mere temporary twinklings on the vast canvas of silence. They themselves tell their story of incompleteness, their own meaninglessness behind all the meanings ascribed to them. And the moment we listen to their story, we arrive at the moral of the final story. The moral of their story is silence. Silence and emptiness behind all this noise and happening. And as I write this, huge rumblings of megh naad, the rumblings of clouds, buzz across my head. A booming cosmic storm that chucks out the outer shell of words, crushes the stones to spread the sand to go flying with the winds. The words getting sucked into a cosmic cascade and whirlpool of energy. And beyond that silence, stillness and emptiness.

September musings

 Rains and more rains. Mold in the pickle jar. White coral mushroom on the rotting plank. Potatoes with spikey sprouts. Baby frogs everywhere. Lots of nests in the trees and plants. The sky laden with flying insects. Well-fed serpents and croaky long-limbed toads. Thickly overgrown trees and promiscuous creepers. The air with a musty smell. The railings more rusty. The sky just a cloudy canvas. Hot teas and spicy pakoras. Smiles. Gossips. Love and loss in the season of moss. Well-bathed caravan looking to sneak in and take a shelter in the autumnal camp. Well, it has been too damp. Welcome now the sunny lamp.

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Many situations of life turn meaningful, and hence bearable, the moment we accept our share, our part in shaping the things as they stand.

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For the angels to stay relevant, there have to be demons. Well, that's too big a price for goodness. Let there be no demons, even if that means all angels losing their status and turn ordinary entities. Just a pleasant commonness! Why go for the extraordinary? Especially when the cost is too high, like having to do with demons just to have angels around.

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Avoid the things that cost you your smile and laughter. It will never be a loss in the long term, I can assure you. Avoid also the things that fetch you an instant grimace. That's an instant gain. So start now with a smile!

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Preface and Blurb (Notebook of a Self-unmade Man)

 Dear readers, sharing the preface and Blurb of my latest book, Notebook of a Self-unmade Man

https://notionpress.com/read/notebook-of-a-self-unmade-man

https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CJ4S6S3M/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2QSI68QBWRO3A&keywords=notebook+of+a+self-unmade+man&qid=1694773806&sprefix=notebook+of+a+self-unmade+man%2Caps%2C375&sr=8-1

PREFACE

Dear readers, it is always a special, almost festive, occasion to present a new book to the few people who find my writing relevant, who tell me that it makes a positive difference to their lives to read my books. I know my book is my own responsibility when no mainstream publisher takes up the project. The onus is on me to write, rewrite, type, edit, typeset, format, design the cover, write blurbs and the rest of all and sundry works that cover the workflow of a publishing company in producing a book. Of course this process involves multiple people who give their best to produce a nice book.

Now in my case, just like so many other self-publishing authors, the entire workflow needs to be carried by the author himself. I don’t complain, ought not to in fact because writing a book is my choice. I am grateful that at least there are avenues for self-publishing available for small-time writers to keep their passion alive. Earlier the writers were not this much lucky and many a fine writer couldn’t pursue their journey because there was hardly any scope to present one’s creativity beyond the select space of a few dozen publishers. Thus many creative flames got extinguished. Thankfully, if one isn’t solely bound by economic considerations, one can pursue one’s creative passion by writing and self-publishing books.

I would say I’m my own writer, editor, formatter, graphic designer, website designer and its manager, marketing manager and social media promoter. It’s very interesting to learn so many things. See, I know my passion is solely my choice and it’s my duty to fulfill all the conditions in my capacity to keep it going.

I know despite the best of my efforts, in my multiple capacities, it’s unavoidable that some quality and content issue might be visible in the book. But on my part I work over months to make a book that goes as near to a good publisher’s product as it’s possible for a singular resource working for multiple designations. My effort is always to improve all the multiple skills listed above. It’s my choice to publish books. These days, I don’t even approach any publisher with the script. Why waste time while the very same can be used in further refining your product.

In the solitude of my countryside house, nestled within the sometime serene and sometime noisy embrace of a humble village, I have found solace and a refuge from the bustling chaos of the outside world. Within these walls and the little garden that covers the front yard, I have discovered a profound connection with the natural world and the insightful beauty that lies within its subtlest details.

This book is a collection of my thoughts, observations and reflections on the world that unfolds before my eyes. It is a chronicle of the happenings within my little garden, where the ebb and flow of life's cycles are mirrored in the delicate dance of flowers, the rustling leaves of a little clump of trees, and the ever-changing seasons that grace this sacred patch of earth. It’s nothing short of a temple to me. As I witness these simple, natural instances, I delve into the depths of their significance, searching for the larger meanings they hold for life and living.

While I may dwell far from the bustling cities and the grand stages of global affairs, my words extend beyond the boundaries of my village. Within these pages, I offer my insights and opinions on the broader happenings of our world, weaving together the threads that connect the microcosm of my garden to the macrocosm of society. It is my hope that by exploring the intricacies of my surroundings, I may shed light on the human condition and the universal truths that shape our existence.

This book is not a scholarly treatise or a manifesto of ideologies. Rather, it is a deeply personal account of my own journey—a journey of self-discovery, healing and enlightenment about deeper truths. As I pour my thoughts onto the pages, I find catharsis for my bruised soul and a balm for my losses. Each word becomes a salve, mending the wounds inflicted by the trials and tribulations of life.

Through the act of writing, I transform my solitude into a source of joy and peace. The blank page becomes a canvas upon which I paint the vivid colors of my emotions, the swirling currents of my thoughts, and the gentle whispers of my dreams. It is my sanctuary, my sacred space, where the turbulence of the world gives way to a gentle calmness that permeates my being.

I invite you, dear reader, to embark on this journey with me—a journey that traverses the seasons, meanders through the blooming flowers, and contemplates the mysteries of existence. Within these pages, may you find moments of reflection, inspiration, and perhaps even a renewed sense of wonder for the world that surrounds us.

As we navigate the pages together, let us embrace the beauty of the little things, for in them lies the profound wisdom that can illuminate our lives. May my humble musings serve as a reminder that amidst the noise and chaos, there is tranquility to be found, and that within the solitude of our own hearts, we can discover the most profound truths.

Welcome to my world, where the quiet whispers of nature and the transformative power of words intertwine to create a tapestry of meaning and a sanctuary for the soul.

BLURB

Step into the enchanting world of the countryside with this captivating book that invites you to witness the magic that unfolds within the author's little garden. In this collection of poignant observations, heartfelt reflections and profound insights, the author takes you on a journey through the seasons, offering a rich tapestry of life's intricate beauty.

Through the author's keen eye and introspective musings, you will discover a profound connection to the natural world, where the delicate dance of flowers, the rustling leaves and the changing seasons become metaphors for life's deepest lessons. From the simplicity of a budding blossom to the grandeur of nature's cycles, you will be captivated by the wisdom found within these pages.

Beyond the boundaries of the author's countryside abode, the words transcend time and space, delving into the complexities of the human condition and offering thought-provoking insights on broader societal issues. From the bustling cities to the global stage, the author's opinions and perspectives will challenge and inspire, urging you to contemplate the larger meanings of life and our place within it.

This book is a sanctuary for the soul, a healing journey that transforms solitude into a source of joy and peace. It is a balm for the bruised soul, a panacea for the losses endured. Delve into the author's world and allow his words to ignite your own sense of wonder, as you uncover the hidden truths nestled within the delicate embrace of nature's little happenings.

Open your heart, open your mind, and immerse yourself in the transformative power of this heartfelt writing. Let the author's journey become your own, as you find solace, inspiration and a renewed appreciation for the intricate tapestry of life that surrounds us all.

Walking

I walk far more than any ultra-marathon runner. In fact I beat all the runners combined in terms of walking and running. I walk with my mind. I walk on the legs of thoughts. They keep me on the busy highway. The other day, someone complained, 'You hardly go out these days, always busy with books!' Now how to tell that person that I'm always walking, walking in the mind. The best test is just to walk with legs only with the mind shut off. Because walking with both mind and legs can be very tiring. Walking on legs with positive feelings is somewhat better. But there was Krishna who walked on a blood smitten battlefield. He just walked on his legs. With no feelings and thoughts. What detachment! No wonder we worship him as a god now.

The homosapiens' last sigh

 Human mind is conditioned to hatch and plot more and more human-centric realities. Artificial intelligence and synthetic biology are the latest tools to further spread our intellectual wings and forge bigger realities. But ultimately the 'maker' will stand synonymous with the 'made'. Presently we can feel proud while looking at our products because they stand separate and lowly while we muse our our creations. But now there is a fundamental shift. The product isn't strictly outside our physiological body. The product is creeping inside us--into our neurons as artificial intelligence; into our cells as synthetic biology. We have been crazy about making something. And when there isn't anything left to make, we have started making a newer version of our own self.   It's just like nature produced we humans on this tiny planet but got devoured by its product. Similarly the homosapiens will be gradually absorbed by a new product, a new species. Just evolution, maybe. So why worry. Make the most of it as one of the last real homosapiens generation on this small planet. Enjoy what life and mother nature has still to offer.