"Train"

Har subah, har shaam, 

Inhi patariyon par se nikal jaati ho, 

Wahi sadkein, baadal, khet, nadi, naale,

Unhi pulon se din-ba-din, ub nahin jaati? 

Kisi aur vaadi, raaston par jaane ko, 

Nahin ho tum taras jaati?

Yahi kuch din hue, dekha tha un bachchon ko,

Tumhare peeche daud lagaate hue,

Roke nahin ruki, waqt ki paaband,

Lagaataar eklauta safar kiye ja rahi ho,

In ird gird patriyon pe jin saheliyon se subah shaam milti ho,

Unke chatpate kisse kahaniyon ko sunkar jal nahin jaati?

Ye bagal wali, seedhe kashmir ki khushnuma wadiyon se aati hai,

Aur phir woh ek patri chhod ke, seedha narmada ke sangmarmaron se, 

Inki chaal dhaal se tum zara bhi machal nahin jaati?

Khud matmaile kheton, gobar ke uplon se guzarti ho,

Kahin chaude bhoore maidan, kahin sookhi nadi, 

Kahin lawaaris shehri bheed ko laanghte hue,

Phir bhi kisi aur suhaawani patri par abhi talak,

Chhalaang nahi lagayi tumne, 

Jaane kis wachan par atal ho, 

Shaayad musaafiron se dil laga baithi ho,

Shaayad kisi puraani riwaayat ki maari ho,

Ya shaayad tum bas behad bechaari ho!

Cast Away

I remember you,

It’s a question that you never asked, but I chose to answer anyway,
A shred of my past, insignificant and irrelevant, however,
Often sprouting within my conversations with the presently relevant,
You were lost, Are, But,
Amidst the maze of this eventful journey called life, you still stand out,
conspicuous and unhindered,
Mounted somewhere on the branches of an indomitable thought river,
There, You look down upon me condescendingly,

I remember you,

Could be life’s telling, to keep account, for future reference,
To cast strangers in the frame of my past, that comprises you and the likes,
To know where to dive deep, or merely explore and come back home,
To know who will simply brush against, or walk alongside till the end,
To make sure, that I do not become a repeat offender of my own sanctity,

Yes, you are forgotten, friend!
But then I remember you!

Achhi Khabar

Subah se chali thi khabar,
Shaam tak shaayad pohonche,
Khushboo se pehchaan hogi ki achhi hai ya buri,
Achhi hi hogi, buri toh dann se padti hai,
Aav na taav dekhe, badi mauka parast hai,

Aati hogi purwaayi ka daaman thaamkar, chhup ke peeche se,
'Dhappa' deke yaad dilayegi,
Achhi buri khabron ka khel hi hai zindagi,

Lo pakad lo, phir jee lene do ek aadh pal khushi ke,
Mujhe kahaan raas aayi hai vaise bhi, jo ho mere hisse se zyada,

Pee loon do ghoont yahin,
Bhar loon ise aankhon mein,
Khaali kar hi degi,
Buri toh phir dhoond hi legi mujhe!

"Beti"

Ashaadh ke chauthe din ko woh mere ghar aayi thi,

Madhur sureeli muskaano se goonji meri angnaayi thi,

Dekha uski aankhon mein jab, meri aankhen bhar aayi thi,

Mook, salone se naino mein, meri hi parchhayi thi,

Aas padosi, rishtewale, na aaye the tujhe liwaane,

‘Ladki hui hai’ ye sunte hi, yaad aaye the unhe bahaane,

Jabki pichhdi soch ko guzre, beet gaye ab kayi zamaane,

Phir bhi kitne ‘padhe-likhe’ bhi, suna gaye the humko taane,

Tere seene par sar rakh, jab teri dhadkan sunta hoon,

Tere bole bin hi tujhse, dheron baatein karta hoon,

Kabhi-kabhi toh bhari dupahari, jhat se tu so jaati hai,

Kabhi-kabhi phir der raat, humko ratjaga karaati hai,

Tere uthne ki chinta mein, main bhi kahaan so paata hoon,

Ek aankh se sota hoon, dooji se taktaki lagaata hoon,

Main na padh-likh paaya gudiya, tujhko magar padhaaunga,

Apne saath bitha kar tujhko, main bhar pet khilaoonga,

Seedhi saadi tu hogi toh roti paka khilayegi,

Ya phir ban kar ‘Laat-mem’ tu seena mera phulayegi,

Tu apne in haathon ki rekhaaon se mat dar jaana,

Inki baaton mein aa kar, hath se peeche mat hat jaana,

In ka kya hai, ye toh kewal baadhayein dikhlaati hain,

Samajh-boojh aur himmat se, saari baadha tal jaati hai,

"Beta toh beta hota hai", har jan yeh dohraata hai,

"Byaah hua so gayi, kandhon ka bojh aur badh jaata hai",

Jaane kyun in Beton par, saara jag itna itraata hai,

Beton par utsav aur betiyon par shok manaata hai,

Tu chhoti hai mat kar parwaah, samay badal hi jaata hai,

Beta-Beti ek hain dono, samay yahi samjhaata hai,

Beta phir bhi aage chal biwi-bachchon ka ho jaata hai,

Beti jitna saath aajkal beta kahaan nibhaata hai,

Beti jitna saath aajkal beta kahaan nibhaata hai.

"Of Malignancy of Life, (and benignity of Death)"

It was about 4:30 a.m. in the morning and I hadn’t rested even for a minute through the night. Lack of sleep however was no excuse to the long list of work that waits for me every day both at office and home. Although the attention to my two little kids was unavoidable, to continue with my job was now a distant reality for me.

And it all happened because of that one phone call…

I was a young woman with two young boys aged 5 and 7. A vegetarian, and almost insanely weight conscious, I believe I had a relatively healthier lifestyle as compared to women of this generation, many of whom I knew took to smoking and drinking right after school. I worked as a systems analyst in a multinational technology company and my husband Swastik was a Director in a consulting firm. Needless to say, we could afford the best school in the neighborhood for our kids Zeeshan and Rayhan. The point that I am trying to make is that we were financially quite comfortable. My husband, a smart man, seldom failed to display his well practiced financial wisdom (leveraging his financial consulting experience at work), and had planned for each expected fund outflow in advance such as travels, children’s education and marriage, estate investments, retirement and almost everything. So I never had to worry as far as money matters were concerned.

I had no family history of Cancer, and I was almost certain to death that I was never going to die of Cancer. We had just returned from a week long family holiday to Tahiti islands, the largest island of French Polynesia in the southern Pacific Ocean. We had all gone scuba diving, snorkeling and beach rafting. The kids had a marvelous time at the beach and the resort. After a long time and a full year of hard work, Swastik and I had found some really romantic moments together undisturbed by the con-calls and e-mails. The last night at Tahiti was like reliving the honeymoon, as magical as the teenage puppy love, coupled with a night of an absolute mature and daring lovemaking. After we had two great sessions, Swastik touched me again, desiring for a third. Only this time, he thought he felt a lump below my right breast. He brought my hand over it to make me feel it myself. Painless and definitive – I suddenly remembered faintly the words of my gynecologist at the time Rayhan was born; that it’s a lump that usually doesn’t hurt and is what you should be looking for. The flight back next day was unusually disturbed and uncomfortable in the awareness of the new suspicion. Hence, as soon as we arrived at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in the afternoon, I immediately went to the doctor for a mammography.

I hated the hospital environment for the anxiety issues it induced. It was the place where many times in the past I had confronted the unhappy reality of death and dying. As a matter of fact, I had never seen a severely ill patient ever come alive out of the hospital – as if it’s almost certain that if I’m severely ill and in the hospital, I would most definitely die. That very moment was when I felt the fear of dying, and realized that I was surprisingly more scared of dying than I thought I was. May be it was not for myself, but for my kids and my husband. In the latter part of the 33 years of my life, I had seen the death of family members, friends, and friends of friends, acquaintances, colleagues – of natural causes, diseases, murders, suicides, everything. None of it could be compared with what I felt at that moment. It was me this time. And believe me when I say this, it is difficult to imagine one’s own death.

The biopsy took a long time, as the pathologist needed to be convinced of the situation before issuing a definitive diagnosis to what could have been a prospective cancer patient.

There were unexpectedly too many people in the oncology unit of this hospital, mostly older men and women, and while Swastik was away at the hospital canteen to arrange a quick bite, I took time to observe their faces. Most of them looked well acquainted with the department and the doctors, had thick files in their hands and seemed at ease. They remarkably looked ‘Okay’ with their circumstances. “They might have older kids and have lived their share of healthy lives”, I thought to myself. “I am only 33 with 2 young kids and a bright career ahead! It cannot happen to me.”

And then I got the report with the devastating news. My world came crashing down. It was like a nightmare, and I hoped that I would open my eyes in the next second, and everything would be normal. I had always thought cancer happened to older people. It was like watching a movie, the only difference being this time that it wasn’t a movie, it was me.

And from that moment on was when the real issues of life started dramatizing themselves right in front of my eyes. All the savings my husband had planned for us, now appeared insufficient. Because, guess what, we hadn’t planned for a cancer at 33! Treatment was necessary, as it was the only option. Life had suddenly become grueling for Swastik who now found himself solely responsible to fund my hospital expenses, the already running EMIs, the apartment rent, his expenses, and those of the kids. I felt so helpless and thought my immediate death would have been better for him. He wouldn’t have to do all this alone, and at the same time see me suffer. It was as if this malignant situation of mine was trickier than a sudden and benign death. And when I told him how I thought, he hugged me tight.

The clock starts ticking in a countdown fashion, and everything happens quickly when you’re told that you’re diagnosed with cancer. You become conscious of the fact that there’s so little time left for you and your family to be with you in this world. The kids had to know that their mamma wasn’t well but they could hardly understand. I hoped that I’d get better after the treatment soon and be back to the role of a caring mother, though there was no such guarantee. Swastik was my biggest support in these times to keep the children’s life as normal as possible.

The cancer was at its second stage. The doctor assured that about 50 percent of the patients survive if detected in the first 2 stages. I was referred to the best cancer hospital in Bombay and the treatment started immediately. Life changed strangely with doctors who were now scheduling surgeries, chemo sessions, admitting me for days at stretch for radiations. The medicines were so expensive that our pockets bled. The property at the Pali Hill had to be mortgaged to arrange for the hospital payments. Our parents and my brother occasionally flew down from Delhi to assist Swastik in attending to me during my surgeries and chemo sessions, but ultimately that slowed down to the extent that almost every week Swastik had to take time off his office to attend to me. I lost my hair and had started looking older. Swastik got me a wig to wear so the kids won’t get startled when they come to meet me.

On the other side, my older one had figured something wrong in the situation and was failing in his grades in the school. In the meantime my mother had developed a knee issue and was advised bed rest for six weeks. Swastik missed his promotion for the first time and had been rated as an underperformer for the year. My sabbatical had been quite long as per my company’s standards and some people at the top decided to terminate my services after contributing meagerly to the hospital expenses in lieu of the insurance premium bit of the CTC that they paid to the insurance company for me. Life had always been so beautiful for us, but as they say like the tides of the sea, the day and the night, no one told us that life will always be a bed of roses. But sometimes, even when you lose all hope, people who love you don’t let you give up. I give all the credit of my survival today to my husband Swastik and pray that we all be supported by our families in the times of test.

My treatment continued for three long years in hospital. Zeeshan is ten now and has become a very introvert and reclusive child. Rayhan is okay though he has very few friends. I only have to take the medicines now that are usually prescribed for a longer period to avoid recurrence of the cancer, but again, there is no such guarantee. What has changed now for a not-so-young-and-vibrant-woman-anymore like me is the way I appreciate life and the value of being part of a supportive family. Nevertheless, I am proud of myself too that I could instill the inspiration that I received from my loved ones, and kept myself high on the spirit even when the time turned against me – in a countdown fashion. With this new perspective, at 37 I now walk free from cancer, but at the same time much more conscious to the short lived and uncertain nature of the life we are living every day, and the inescapable death.

(Images may be subject to copyright)

"Schizophrenia"

Thinking deep takes up a lot of me. As much that I feel breathless. Sometimes I wonder what good is a mind to disrupt a smooth sailing life? Everything was perfect. A steady going career, a charming husband with his caring family, a set of beautiful parents and lovely sister to share my life with. My wedding was a dream. Until a few years back, there were no long term ambitions and no unrealistic realization about having done something or not having done another. It was all about going up the ladder and earning a bit more than today. It's only time that unleashes the reality, that as you grow and spend more years mapping your life, everything around you grows too. The problems, the complications, the expectations and the doubts. When you're dealing with humans, you can trust no one you know. Truth is difficult to express as well attain.

I grew up like everyone else. I had issues. But I was lucky. I eventually found the truth.

Lately I had started seeing things around me that wouldn't appear to be true to other people. I had visions of people and things being around me constantly telling me what I ought to do and who I should trust. I was a true believer in science - although I studied it pretty briefly. I understood the chemical bonds, the physics and the quantum, the mechanical and electrical functions, and the anatomy of plants and animals. I was not untouched by the adversities of life, so as my grandparents died, whom I undoubtedly adored and was attached massively to, I comforted myself by assuring that death comes to all. It separates and unites at the same time. Its only for one to lead a certain part of their life entirely independent of influence of any kind. I appreciate that fact and have so long endeared everything life ever since brought me to.

The other day when I was getting ready to leave for my work when I saw the bedside table moving on its own. As I looked closely into the mirror I saw it move an inch forward and again backwards. I ignored it at first. I often experienced moments of dizziness because of a constant dearth of energy in me. I turned and moved towards the door constantly gazing at the table and to my shock, it moved forward and dropped a business card from on top of it. I went closer and picked it up to see it was a hotel in Indore where my husband stayed for the weekend. It was a work call. I almost forgot about the strange movement of the bedside table as I noticed a pinkish stain on the card that appeared to be of a lipstick. At the back, there was a phone number written in a running hand. ''Bad idea'', I thought to myself, but kept the card in my purse. I didn't think about the table after that.

Back at work, I became almost mechanical. The students, the fellow staff were all the same people I saw everyday. It was the same subject that I taught over and over. And all across the world, there were innovations and experiments and researches happening every second. Every second a theory was getting rejected and another being accepted. Every one learned had understood the necessity of being a skeptic - and yet again I read the same subject over and over in the same form and meaning and blurted out in my lecture. Someone should have invented a superlative for monotony. I could think of none!

In the staff room, I heard a strange noise growing louder towards the end of work day. It was the fan. I was trying hard to ignore since a couple of hours and suddenly a peon passed across the corridor giving me a strange look moving his gaze to the fan. I stealthily looked up, and among all the dirt on its wings, I noticed the third wing constantly stopping at one of my colleagues Cyrus at every circle it took. I knew there was something wrong about him. He never looked like a genuine person at the very first instant. Yesterday I was watching a couple of British students caught travelling to be a part of ISIS in Syria. With the long beard he had in spite of it being a rule for the gentlemen to remain clean shaven in their lectures, I always felt he had some kind of a disregard to the larger civilian laws. Well, I wasn't in the hiring committee else I could have done something about it, but then I promised myself to be on a look out of one reason to complain against him. It is a college with young vulnerable minds and we don't need a fanatic misusing it. 

The number at the back of the card I picked up from the bedroom was constantly eating up a piece of my mind. I took it out and dialed it. As expected, it was a woman. I disconnected. No wonder this was a result of my being so concentrated on kids and students at work. Praveen was a good man but this was his way of getting back at me. Fine. It was time I told myself that I didn't need a husband. Well anyway there was nothing I could do about it. I had no authority or access to his work life as he has always been a private person. It's only that he had placed his mules strategically around me that I found myself worried about. Like his driver who dropped and picked me up everyday. The logic was that he cared, where now I feel it's more supervision than care. He doesn't want to get anything back at him for his deeds. 

I got back home drunk. He was waiting in the living room with his regular drink and children asleep. I entered trying to stand up straight and walked inside and crashed without saying a word. I hadn't changed and was inebriated. But I saw my husband coming in, switching the light off, cover me with a blanket and leave. As he left, I saw the bedside table swiftly move towards me as if expecting a pat on its back.

I smiled in my dream that night. 

Pause

Writing for my book "Poignant Silhouettes - The Book"
Coming soon

"Aaj main candle nahi jalaaoongi"

Aaj main candle nahi jalaaoongi,

Jal jal ke pighal gayi hain kayi candles,

Aur saath hi pighal gaye, bade shehron ke buland darwaaze,

Nahi pighle jo, hain kuch bigde dil yahaan,

Barson se liye, aankhon mein, nafrat ke angaarey,

Dhadhak ke hain laal, jo badle ke laave se,

Riste rehte hain, kishton mein,

Anayas hi de jaate hain, apni naraazi ke kuch zinda, kuch murda saboot,

Zinda murda ho jaate hain, aur murda khabar bankar,

Agle din bade kaale aksharon mein,

Meri subah aur kaali kar jaate hain.

Pichhli baar jab maine candle jalaayi thi,

Socha tha... ki jin dilon ko insaaniyat garm nahi karti,

Unhe woh shaayad kuch raahat de,

Mere saath tum bhi toh the, us bheed mein shaamil,

Jahaan ghairon ne bhi, wajah se rishte banaaye the,

Aadhe jhuke hue the wahaan, raeeson ke bhi parcham,

Aur gareebon ne jholi bhar ke aansu lutaye the,

Aaj phir sane hain khoon se, pade hain sadkon pe, school ke baste,

Chhide hain goliyon se, kuch nanhe paak zehen,

Gine nahin, par aadhe kaafir, aadhe mazhabi honge,

Par ab murda hain, toh koi mudda hi nahin.

Mat chhuo, pade rehne do, in pighle hue lawaaris armaanon ko,

Jaise ghar jaane ke baad, pade rehte hain peeche.. pighle mom ke kuch pulinde,

Jab chhant jayenge mitti mein, jo hain ghair mazhabi badan,

Aur reh jaayenge fakat mazhabi, 
Tab shayad pehchaan hogi, apne hi mustakbil ki,

Gussa shayad phir thanda ho!

Aaj tum candle mat jalaana,

Iski law se aur na uble, ruthe huye dilon ki fitrat,

Jal jal ke pighal gayi hain kayi candles,

Pighla sake bigde hue dilon ko koi,
Sard ho aahein, garm kare in mein jazbaat,
Main woh gunguni shama jalaaoongi,

Par main candle nahi jalaaoongi.

"The Feather under the Hat" #33

Feels like a long time. Being away from writing doesn't really help. The emotions do dwell, the words continue to take shape and remain bottled up waiting to be released and revealed to the outside. But again, they get mingled and exhumed in the scarcity of time, list of priorities in the world of appearances, relentless desires, the usual. So after this long time I thought of starting at the same place where I left it - the hidden lessons in my routine stricken mundane life, and others around me, the Feathers. That, contrary to the other material possessions, are safer when shared and dispersed, worthless and forgotten otherwise.

'I' am important to me. 'I' is pretty, good to everyone, jovial, kind, sensitive, principled and impartial. Yet, is misconstrued by the peers as self-seeker, quick tempered, moody, unfriendly, domineering and a non-conformist. The difference here is in the self and others' perception and more often than not, is not merely a misunderstanding. And while I do not have an outright solution to make them both concur on the preferable image of one's own, I only intend to insist that its recognition is as important, as one's priority of creating, maintaining loving and peaceful relationships with other people. If you agree with me, you may want to follow some of this in order to resolve a problem, on immediate recognition of the difference:

1. 'Acknowledge' the difference.
2. Take an impartial stand in every instance of 'encounter'. In a discussion, appreciate on genuinely good suggestions, but do not criticise, condemn or complain.
3. Improve communication, personal and public - The lack of it spirals and populates the difference.
4. Avoid sounding desperate. Remember that everyone craves (note, not needs but craves) 'love and peace'. Don't overdo the 'Hi', 'Sorry' and 'Thank you', just be your regular nicer self and define it as 'Neutral'.
5. Lastly, absolutely not let the history of conflict intrude. Look at everyday and everyone as 'New'. It's important to forget the bad days, remember the good ones, and make the next one beautifully memorable.

I'm not a Sage and I often falter on the above (more than you think!). I can't be a fake, smile when I am hurt or angry, or make everyone fall in absolute awe of me. And quite frankly, I would just like to be surrounded by loving friends and family. But with my other relationships, I would like to maintain the peace, civility and order, not only to avoid confrontations, cold wars and so that they don't prick me in my sleep, but also since you know, 'I' is a good human being (wink!) ;).

 

Suno!

Suno. Ruko.Yahaan. Main hoon.. Main hi hoon!

Chupchaap aaine mein main tumhara ‘aks’ hoon,

Yun toh tum aur main rahe hamesha baraabar,

Par faasla ye hai ke be-awaaz reh gaya,

Gham aur khushi tumhari pe mera hai sab nirbhar,

Aitbaar toh kiya magar aitraaz reh gaya,

Ye aaj hi ki hai baat ke himmat hui hai kuch,

Pehli hi baar ki hai ye koshish maine sach much,

Kehna jo chaahta hoon, chhoti si baat hai,

Main kya bada kahoon, meri kya majaal hai,

Tum nahin par tum jaisa dikhta zaroor hoon,

Badle mein bewafa khushi ke par bikta nahi main hoon,

Shohrat nahi chaahta par zameer par guroor hai,

Saath rehkar bhi raha ajnabi, kya mera yeh kusoor hai?

Laute ho jab kabhi bhi tum zara aur bik kar,

Gire badan se hain kayi hisse mere bhi tootkar,

Kehlaya nahi par janam se rishta mera bhi tha,

Bhooli bisri kahaniyon mein ek lamha mera bhi tha,

Yun jab kabhi bhi tum palat te ho tasveerein purani,

Chhoti badi khidkiyon mein dikhti hogi ek shakl jaani pehchaani,

Woh shakl hai wahi magar badal gaya main hoon,

Tumhari galtiyon mein main ulajh gaya sa hoon,

Suno zara ruko, yeh main tumhara ‘aks’ hoon,

Aage nikal gaye ho tum, fisal gaya main hoon.

"Gratitude"



As far as you think, mine is good to go,

I’m not satisfied.

Yours is what you think that I said, Mine is what I think should have.

Mine is higher, where as Yours is your own.

Mine is priceless, as the grandest diamond,

Yours is a moment of judgment, a peek at the obvious,

The hidden is mine!

 

Mine doesn’t end anywhere, as it ends where I end,

Yours is conclusive.

The expression of me, is mine, the basic,

The collection of views, is yours, a serious inseparable concoction.

Yours is affection, friendship and love, Mine is competition.

Yours is diluted, Mine is nature.

Yours is kind, Mine is the teacher.

Yet, yours is important, as much as mine ever was right from the beginning,

As yours, is what I write it for, compare it against.

Yours is appreciation, Mine is gratitude.

 

Yet, in spite of Your’s benevolence, and the honest appreciation,

I’m not satisfied.

"For all the firsts, with you"

" Tu badan hai, main hoon chhaya,
tu na ho, toh main kahaan hoon,
mujhe pyaar karne wale,
tu jahaan hai, main wahaan hoon,

Hamein milna hi tha humdum,
Kisi raah bhi nikalte,

Yeh kahaan aa gaye hum, yunhi saath saath chalte.."

#SachinRameshTendulkar

Days like today make you feel that the clock never stops ticking. That growing old is inevitable. That nothing lasts forever. That everything has an end. That we're all going to die some day. Hopefully later than sooner :|

"Crimes of Hate in a developing country"

 

An annoying wake up alarm – (and if that’s not loud enough) – a deafening argument between the wife and the housemaid – followed by a never ending journey to work through the metropolitan traffic – only to encounter an ever frowning boss right at the entrance - of a negatively charged workplace - placed right next to a disoriented set of colleagues - working for a team that is always swamped with poor standard projects – back home to an ever discontented wife – and an unhappy self.

A typical itinerary for almost everyday

Unpleasantness Quotient

This state of unhappiness and un-fulfillment is measured by the ‘unpleasantness quotient’ that arises when, even after a healthy financial situation one continues to remain in a state of dissatisfaction, and ultimately develops a resenting attitude. In a developing and a growing country, personal income unquestionably rises too. But if this economic development ends up in a creation of a pessimistic society, does that make all the effort worthwhile?

Concept of modernization

According to Fred Riggs, it is the ‘developmental gap’ between the economically privileged and the under privileged that is the biggest challenge for administration in a developing country.  This gap is further unsettled, when a backward society struggles to deal with ‘modernization’ – a concept which means bringing about a ‘social change’ together with the ‘economic development’.

The cycle of economic development for a country may probably be about a 100 years long. But it is much shorter than the cycle of ‘social development’ – a factor of many interdependent variables in a culture. The simultaneity of both results in emergence of a ‘hybrid society’ that on the contrary, starts to overlook the importance of social change in the pursuit of economic development. It is a situation where modernization actually results in conception of a ‘Zombie’ culture - where people become focused on self-development rather than community development - where one man’s loss is another man’s gain – Where everyone hates everyone.

Egocentricity and Self centrism

An ego centric person is the one who disregards others’ perspectives and beliefs. In a country with myriad ethnicities and religions, small ethnic ego centric groups are treacherous to a harmonious coexistence. These are the economically thriving groups of individuals who on one hand claim all benefit of the collective growth in a country, but reject a widespread social change on the other hand, creating a barrier to a country level social development. They dwell on their gullible ethnic followers and misanthropically alienate a significant population from the evolution. Dealing with such groups can be extremely challenging for a federal republic that is extremely presidential at the local level.

At individual level, self centrism takes cues from ego centrism. The individual loses sight of a symbiotic living and becomes parasitic i.e. it feeds on collective growth but returns nothing. For example - A traffic policeman who accepts bribe for releasing a traffic violator, or a bureaucrat who passes a project in return of a huge favor, does not amount to a collective growth.

A very few could continue to pursue honesty and optimism in such a situation. The rest will simply develop resentment against the system.

Public loathing

Do you get almost sickened by the fact that there are too many people sharing too little resources?

We detest other people – especially where one world chooses not to contribute to the public money at all. The extent to which this feeling of ‘hatred’ persists in our minds, against this part of the world is beyond belief. To add to it, there is no way one can identify the tax criminals.

‘Hate’ is an emotion that runs through almost everyone, but is verbally expressed the most by anyone who has ever driven a car in a metropolitan city (read: road rage). It is in the form of the reluctance that we often demonstrate to the accident struck on roads (read: ‘Bystander apathy’). It is the ‘unhealthy mindset’ through which we perceive everyone else as a ‘potential rival’ to our very survival, whether at work (read: corporate rivalry), at home or in life as such which undermines every possible sensibility that one has an option to pursue.

In a country of limited means and massive economic disparities, the queue is a long one outside a public office, on a job portal, for admissions to a state hospital, school/college enrolments or for a service’s seat. Running out of patience is easy. Anger, frustration and hate is inevitable. 

Oppression of the weaker components of the society that followed the former caste system has evolved today, taking the crime against weaker sections of the society to entirely a different level, especially in case of women.

Crimes against women

Women are treated unequally invariably in every part of the country for all forms of nutritional, educational and developmental opportunities. According to National Crime Records Bureau, The dowry death statistics work out to ‘1 death every hour’. Unlike popular belief, rapes and gang-rapes are also social crimes and not sexual crimes that are committed as conditional strategies employed by men to ‘keep women in their place’. Especially, Gang-rapes where the pleasure inundated is twice and the responsibility of the crime diffused.

Even political leaders often overlook that the key to the economic growth lies in the development of a better world for women. Focus on this 50 percent of the world can unlock the full economic potential of a country, strengthen productivity, stimulate demand and boost growth.

Summary

To sum up, the biggest evil in a developing society is the inception of a ‘value system’ based on reckless virtues. It is important to stick to the values of humanity, love and equality, as the same will get transferred onto the forthcoming generations. The idea is to measure growth in terms of GDP, life expectancy, literacy and levels of employment and also in terms of the less-tangible factors such as mutual love and harmony, safety and freedom from fear of physical harm, gender equality and the extent of participation in civil society.

Such socio-economic community development is the key to a better country, a ‘hate-free’ society and a far less unpleasantness quotient for the day.

 

"India - the unfulfilled dream"

The most common conversation I have with other people these days is that how the Government conveniently passes the buck on crucial national issues. Everyone seems to have turned a skeptic of all government officials now due to what we have experienced in recent times. As the 2014 elections are nearing, there is heightened uncertainty on the very integrity of the two national coalition parties and none of the respective candidates seems promising enough to be able to turnaround the suspended ‘India growth story’, or to spearhead some serious disciplinary changes in the society.

As a child, I was always in awe of the great freedom fighters who loved their country more than their lives and sacrificed their youth for freedom, the nationalist leaders who were able to direct millions of people towards the single aim of overthrowing one of the greatest powers of history, and the distinguished statesmen that had brought the scattered princely states together to create the world’s largest federal system of all times – and that was not even a 100 years back! Today, corruption seems to be deep rooted in the society so much that it is impossible to imagine the nation that offers a socialistic solution to the problems, where the bureaucracy is not read as red tape or nepotism and the politicians work for the betterment of people without seeking wealth accumulating opportunities.

All of this has started to make me believe that we probably were better off being ruled over by the British Monarchy – or should have had set up a dictatorship rule for ourselves at the time of independence. Because the constitution then, written by the 207 members of the constituent assembly who went searching around and consolidating the “Good” democratic policies followed in the west, had its pedestal on the sentiments of the illiterate population craving for freedom since 200 odd years. We got a legally enforced set of Fundamental Rights, an obligatory set of Fundamental Duties, and a non-enforceable policy framing rule book for the state called the Directive Principles.

And hence in 1947, a free, but irresponsible nation was born, that eventually created a society that was abundantly free, but lacked self discipline. That trusted its statesmen to lead the nation with the same Gandhian principles. Unfortunately, that forgot that the future leaders can and will emerge only from among its own people.

In this light, can we still blame the government for all instances of corruption and carelessness? Or say that even 50% of these instances are only because of their misconduct? How skeptical should we be, and how much blame must rest on their shoulders for these mishaps?

The fact that the framing of laws in the beginning phase was more lenient than it should have been cannot be changed. But what can be changed is the resultant mind frame of the society.  The 60% literate population as compared to only 12% at the time of independence is only an advantage to the situation. We are not the same old illiterate bunch of monkeys, who could only recognize a symbol and would vote blindly without even knowing the name of the candidate. We do not want a prime minister who is made a prime minister just because his grand father was a great leader.

Changes of the society however will not happen overnight. They are slow, steady but far more efficient when resolved in the minds of the people – Like constituting a fearless whistle-blowing attitude, female education, self-aggression management, overcoming one’s sense of competition and comparison, empathy and understanding towards the economically deprived, mutual love, respect and chivalry, and awareness of the national events.

A deeply corrupt society can also be overthrown gradually by sowing superior quality seeds – for example by something as basic as a responsible and enlightened upbringing of children. Conventional wisdom long held that the children are not capable of lying and stealing, where as the more modern research states that the children start lying and stealing as early as at 2 years for many of the same reasons adults do - to avoid punishment, to gain an advantage, to protect against an unwanted consequence, and even to boost self-esteem. We all tell lies of convenience, and our children watch and learn — but not always so literally. Helping the future generation develop morality and responsibility for its own actions over the long haul is the goal and also a solution that we all can collectively contribute to.

The game is not yet over.

"Singing to the tune of... Don't wake me up!"

This is my life
Its not what it was before
All these feelings I've shared
And these are my dreams
That I'd never lived before
Somebody shake me
'Cause I
I must be sleeping

These are my words
That I've never said before
I think I'm doing okay
And this is the smile
That I've never shown before

Somebody shake me 'cause I
I must be sleeping


Now that we're here,
It's so far away
All the struggle we thought was in vain
All in the mistakes,
One life contained
They all finally start to go away
Now that we're here it's so far away
And I feel like I can face the day, and I can forgive
And I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today


I'm so afraid of waking
Please don't shake me
Afraid of waking
Please don't shake me


- So far away lyrics by Staind

"I think, therefore I am"

‘Ceteris Paribus’ – means ‘everything else unchanged’, a term often used to understand many otherwise inexplicable, inconsistent concepts. But in reality, one cannot assume every other factor to be a constant to understand the performance of a concept in isolation. In the ancient world, it was imperative for the human mind that was in its formative years, to build hypothesis and come out with theoretical explanations of both physical and cosmological processes to begin with, particularly to make way for ‘rationality’ against merely labeling everything as an ‘act of god’. But now, having moved far ahead in time, it is crucial for us to develop contemporary philosophies, based on the principle of relativity. Theories that do not provide factual information or guarantee the truth, but that are built up empirically on correct premises - based on scenarios and ever changing variables.

In the metaphysical world, ‘existence’ is a matter of fact, one of the perennial topics of the subject. ‘To be’ is to exist – simple. But ‘to be’ where? To be walking on the earth, or to be lying down, to be in the womb, in the sperm? Or ‘to be’ in a more abstract form - in thoughts, in mind or dreams? I’d like to believe that existence cannot be as lame as something that you can touch and that a human mind is capable of imagining anything, even something as complicated as a ‘feeling of touch’.

Continuing to think on the same lines, it could be possible that everyone and everything around one is nothing but a figment of one’s own imagination - the creative play of one’s mind.

For example, the loving family and friends, personal space and home - created to comfort and provide the feeling of belongingness. The positive and inspirational characters like teachers, books of knowledge – created to define all source of existing super awareness of the mind, only appearing to be arising from them. The wealthy and the powerful characters crafted for one to see the way up and decide which way to go. The poor and needy created to keep the feet grounded. The strength of the mind determines how one leads a life. The dreams and the hallucinations, nothing but the incomplete figments.

The ever changing technology, nothing but one’s own intellect – taking its form as soon as it reaches hands. The news – constructive or destructive, all fabricated according to the positive or negative state of mind. Pain, only a wake up factor, or a desire to remove boredom, and joy a means to remain in the moment.

If somebody else dies, the supposed being who has supposedly "died" is only a phantom of one’s imagination, or more plausibly – redundancy of a character. Death of a mind could just be a belief that ultimately one will break away from the otherwise infinitely long existence – which, according to me is a much scary possibility.

To sum up, the world as we see is one’s own universe.

I read about this online to see if there’s someone else who thinks like me and bumped into a concept called “Solipsism”, which is the philosophical idea that only one's own mind is sure to exist. Solipsism holds that knowledge of anything outside one's own mind is unsure. The external world and other minds cannot be known, and might not exist outside the mind.

As a metaphysical position, solipsism goes further to the conclusion that the world and other minds do not exist. As such it is the only epistemological position that, by its own postulate, is both irrefutable and yet indefensible in the same manner.

There will be questions that the concept of Solipsism might not seem to resolve, but then even metaphysics has failed to resolve innumerable doubts on the concept of existence. However, my only question that remains unanswered is that if people and things  around are a figment of my imagination, is it possible that my own existence is someone else’s imagination?

To read more on Solipsism

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solipsism

"Prisoner"

Gazing through the dungeons, jailed, death-rowed,

Utterly self inflicted,

Not for the stones that I pelted in impatience, absolutely inadvertent,

That might have flown out in different directions, to unfamiliar kingdoms,

But for the continuous process of self-arbitration,

That follows suit over everything that I ever did, all that I do,

Upon the exactness of the expectation, of mine and the others,

All the while, it has consistently killed the power of my imagination, everything that I could have been,

and has blatantly criminalised my failures and embarrassments.

They forget, disappear and die, but they live with their scornfulness in my mind,

Nurturing the fire of instigation, not inspiration,

I will follow them, with the good advice that they gave away in kind,

And took away my freedom to be ME,

I will follow them, till I fulfil and eventually break away from the bond that we share,

I will follow them till I prove their point,

And after that, I will stand resurrected.

"Growing up & Growing out of all"

When was the last time         “You picked a racket?”

                                                “Or played Frisbee?”

                                                “Said a ‘hi’ to the kid next door?”

                                                “Lied to save a friend who broke a glass window with a ‘six’?

                                                “Picked up a comic?”     

                                                “Gifted a ‘Happy Teacher’s day’ hallmark card to your favourite teacher?”

                                                 “Or made one for your Grandmother on her Birthday, that said, 

                                                  Live Long Life"

                                               

                                                “Had the most amazing party with friends, WITHOUT the booze?”

                                                “Distributed candies to complete strangers on a special occasion?”

                                                “Drew your favourite cartoon on a piece of paper?”

                                                “Pestered Ma, for a bedtime story?”

                                                “Fight like crazy with the sibling, yet forget about it next morning,

             ...to pick up another at the Breakfast table, for? Maggi Noodles?”

 The last time that “you worked hard for a good result, not to belittle the

opponent,  but just for your own self?”

“Tied a friendship band to someone, without consideration to one's background

  story?”

“Spent an evening in the park, running around with friends and didn’t get

  tired?”
“Brought home, an injured squirrel?”

“Organised a surprise birthday party, for your father?”

“Didn’t think twice before calling a long lost friend on a Christmas?”
“Hung stockings over the rope in the courtyard, believing that the Santa will fill it with goodies and goodness?”

“And confessed every little sin to the ones you loved?”

The last time that “you gave away your tiffin to feed a hungry dog?”

And the last time, “that you focussed 100% on WHAT you’re doing, than the expected outcome, or the reason why you’re doing it,

or did something completely Random?”

Just a thought

No matter how filthy it gets, you can always clean it right up!!