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Thursday, April 4, 2019

Is this Incomplete?

Sometimes I do think of life and try seeing a "whole" and all I find is all the holes that stop it from being a whole. This is something we all try doing, fitting in the puzzles to make a whole portrait of life. This preview makes us so impatient that we start thinking that life is a "big whole picture". We have all heard about the journey and destination relationship that talks about enjoying the journey and not only the destination. But the "big picture" of life is not a destination and the process of achieving is not a journey. It is all the process of life, the journey is life and so is the destination. So the moment the incomplete also seems just right, we have started enjoying every bit of our lives. 

I have been in quest of completeness, waiting for days to roll by, only to find more blanks in my sentences. I wait for words to wrap up sentences and those sentences to wrap up entire pieces. This obsession with completeness has reached such a level that incomplete seems useless. However, the incomplete might be a whole in itself. 

If we talk about the tales of our life in this light, how do we find out where our stories end? The simple answer to this vital question is that we are never able to find out when it ends. It is time that we live in those phrases without waiting for a full stop. 

Image Courtesy: Google Images
I look at my blog and I feel that I haven't posted for aeons and therefore, I conclude that I haven't been writing at all. However, I don't consider the hundred incomplete pieces that are traces of my life in the past here. Now I decide to portray some of them, to convey my story, to give a glimpse of my life to anyone who can find completeness in these incomplete pieces:

For all those times when I felt unheard, when I wanted to voice myself but I felt there was no one to listen:

I have a voice
You silence me, 
But I still talk I talk to myself..
You try to crumble it
It raises the volume inside me 
I talk to myself It tries to echo 
Through empty walls 
That leaves it unheard.
But it echoes inside me, 
I talk to myself 
You question the words I focus on the tune. 
It is wordless inside me, 
I talk to myself.
It's not the language, 
It's how I say it. 
You ask whose voice is it 
And I know within I talk to myself. 
It is fueled from the fire, 
You try to extinguish it. 
I ignite inside me 
I talk to myself. 
You all ignore it 
I still don't give up,
 It is reiterated within 
I talk to myself. 
I shout to myself, 
The world listens it, sees it and feels it... 

In all those times when I felt that my confidence swayed with every strand of my hair. Physical beauty and inner beauty go hand in hand and confidence is relational to these two aspects of life.

The cold winds of the winter months
The clouds that hide the sun behind 
The darkness that takes over the light 
They use that to symbolise gloom 
Symbolise evil and the worst coming along 
But oh it couldnt generalize 
My hair that grew in the tiny rays 
That peeped through the darkest clouds 
They swayed in the air untangled 
A confidence, a sense of love 
It was the dark that was really the brightness 
I thought it stays forever for winter 
I fell in love with it I craved the summer sun, however 
Comes the summer and my hair shatters 
They fall and break 
And I am almost bald 
The shining curls that boosted my steps
I saw them falling down in clusters 
Every day I lost my hair 
Everyday full of despair 
I thought that I might discover myself 
In the shedding of the hair 
But I lost the confidence 
I was just flowing in the flow 
I lost my hair that anchored 
My existence to the shore 
But the glaciers melt in the summer months 
The brightness that needs to clear 
The melancholic air 
Was burning the strands of hair I knew 
I lost my confidence 
Every single day I had nothing to anchor to 
I danced in the flow 
Thinking that I would reach back the shore 
But I was lost in ocean waves 
The water burnt..
Image Courtesy: Google Images
There are a hundred more pieces and yet more to come. This one might sound incomplete, but I end it here. Two pieces of my puzzle lay on this canvas, embarked into a painting that will not be complete until I survive...

Saturday, August 26, 2017

New Beginning

 The wind raged and the once hushed landscape was clamoured by the roars of the surging clouds. The serenity of the setting was marred by a sudden jolt of a cataclysm. And all was devastated, owing to an abrupt alteration in the natural setting and an introduction of elements that created a tumult in the ambiance.
 As I passed through the preliminary security check, the commotion and mourning in the air of that devastated landscape was not enough to describe the state of my heart and mind. I walked further away from the people waving back at me. My hands grasped firmly at the kerchief that mother had tenderly handed me for wiping my tears and my heart sank into an abyss as I related the fleecy touch of the cloth with the touch of  soft loving hands of my mother. I turned around for a last sight of the people who held various pieces of my heart and my vision blurred by teary eyes, spotted the moist eyes of faces saddened with a melancholy of separation and brightened by the pride of my upcoming venture. And the traces of gleam on the faces was enough to light the trench within to help me clamber gradually out of the abyss of grief, therefore, for a few minutes I strode to spoor my ambitions and fly closer to my dreams.
 The bright white lights of the Civil Aerodrome, Vadodara helped me make my way to a new world I was heading to. I was alone amidst a range of passengers who were to board the same flight as mine and yet move onto different directions in life. I began experiencing brief episodes of gloom, excitement and fear and due to all the befuddling emotions, my senses turned dormant. I mechanically traversed through various sections of the airport alone, completing all formalities, before I could ascend into the air.
 Time fleeted and I found myself making way through the aisle of the jet, my guitar banging at the seats, as though it were making efforts to pull back at me and pleading to me to not leave the land that raised me. I tugged at the belt of the guitar cover to align it such that it could safely move through the aisle.
Pic Courtesy: Google Images
 I took my seat, still struggling with mixed emotions, looked through the window of the airplane that revealed its enormous wings as it prepared to take off . The airplane started scaling heights, I saw that I was amidst the clouds that tried piercing through the glass to embrace me and solace my distressed heart. As the altitude increased, I began regaining my senses and started thinking of how I was flying away from everyone. The thought seemed too lugubrious to control my lacrimal glands. I felt like I was being separated from my own self, I was departing from a part of my identity and for those moments, the heartache and agony were indescribable. Nothing seemed right to me and I felt like I could not face it all anymore. My body was trembling from within, my heart crying from within, my mind crafting its own fears and my soul feeling the eternal affliction.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images
Never in my life had I faced such a condition wherein there is no one around to wipe my tears, no one around to at least ask me what was wrong. I felt like screeching to ask everyone around to take me back to my parents' laps. But with teary eyes I could only see stranger faces that were preoccupied by their own griefs and elation. And with this thought, I went on crying until I was tired of being sad. I had not known that there was ever a crying threshold, but somehow I had reached it. And at that point my mind convinced itself to let other emotions rule over. When the airplane reached the cloud covered zone, I found the hidden spark of excitement within me. I tried telling myself that now I was to reach a place I always wished to go to. I had worked harder in High School to chase the dream of studying at the one of best places in the world, and when I was getting a chance to attend such an institution, rather than feeling gratified, I was mourning the separation from my family.
 Not rhetorically here, Muma bird had let me fly by myself so that I could enjoy all the wonders of nature that wave at me and I could independently cross all confinements of mankind. This idea let a wave of rhapsody flow within me, making everything seem exalting and novel.
 I was aware that I had a long journey ahead and that I would be alone in the world until I reach my destination. But being alone helped me silently introspect and also scrutinize the places that come by.  I was not only travelling to discover new places, I thought, but also to discover a new person in me in all those places. I met numerous people at the stop overs- Mumbai and London-, befriended them and exchanged ideas, letting my own perceptions mingle with those of others so that I could view the world from different dimensions.

Anon, getting through the jaded journey when I landed in Canada, all I could see was unknown faces on an unknown land. I searched for familiarity and I realized that except me, my luggage and English language, everything was different. I sauntered across the airport in fatigue by following signs and bribing my feet to keep going by promising them hours of rest once I reach my destination. Amiable immigration officers got all my legal documents issued and then I could officially call Canada "home" for the next five years. Though I didn't belong to this place, but I hoped that I would get a feeling of belonging here soon.
 As I reached the exit of the airport, I found two familiar faces who had come to pick me up and provide me with shelter in the unknown habitat. They greeted me with a warm hug and as I felt their presence, I was too exhausted to feel anything else but a sigh of relief. I assured myself that very soon I would be able to give in to my fatigue and sleep for hours without being barraged by extremities of emotions and worries.
 I was then, in no time, on a queen sized snug bed, covered by a cozy blanket. Having closed my eyes, I still couldn't believe that I was on a different land, miles away from my parents. Every time in the past, when I had been as tired, my mother had put me to sleep in her loving arms. Not withstanding, I was so wearied  that I couldn't cry or crave for love. So I let my sleep take over my body and went into my dreamland. But this dreamland did not have fairies, it had my parents with me holding my hands as I stepped ahead with my tiny legs. And I knew that they will always be there with me as I learn to live a new life, as I advance in my field of study and as I discover my newer and updated version everyday.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

The Revival

 The amber bluish flame that bragged about its own brilliance, swayed on its place, dancing on the melodies of the silent stream of wind. There was the molten wax that was silently fueling the flame by mixing with the oxygen in the surroundings. The radiance of the candle, touched all hearts with its brightness until a seemingly cruel creature imprisoned the candle in a bell jar. And within seconds, the flickering flame mumbled its last words with a trail of smoke that disappeared in the vacuum.
 This Science experiment demonstrated to us by our teacher seemed to resonate with my condition in life for the past few months. There was a time when my inner voice whispered streams of words that flowed out on paper to shape up a decent piece of writing. And I was able to feel the radiance of the words that sparkled on the papers and electronic screens. But gradually, life started imprisoning me in a unique kind of a jar. The concealed jar wasn't made up of conventional materials like glass or porcelain, it was accidentally invented out of an emotional barragement on life. The anxieties and tensions of life being the foundation of the jar, the various other layers included all other befuddling emotions. And the vacuum that the invisible jar of life created, soon extinguished the flames of my inner voices.
 The befuddling emotions included a kind of complex that made me feel that my voice never mattered to the world because everything I had in mind was written somewhere at some point of time. So in the quest to do away with commonplace ideas and find a new thought to create a masterpiece, I wasnt even able to put down on paper simple everyday ideas. I felt like I had fallen in an abyss that led to nothing. My thoughts were making infinitely long ladders to help me get out of this condition. But the fear of hackneyed phrases and cliches was collapsing the steps of the ladders as soon as I begin scaling them.
 That is when I stumbled upon a term "Writer's Block": a condition that could affect writers or people with a penchant for writing while they are putting an effort to produce a marvelous piece of work. The vacuum that is generated in the mind during Writer's Block seemed to be the same like mine. The short film by Brandon Polace helped me understand all aspects of this condition. Anxiety, fear, restlessness, uselessness and such negative notions of life seem to dominate all positive ideals when this Block affects an individual. So by googling about this condition and trying to look for ways to get rid of it, I realized that I wasn't the only person suffering due to the block.
 The remedies like Brute Force or Calming Mind, did not work for me. The more I was trying to dig through the layers of my mind to find a passage to help thoughts flow out fluently, the more was the Block layering sediments to obstruct clear thinking. But gradually as I tried to find the answers within myself, I realized that the external factors played no role in putting me into this condition. I realized that "My negative thoughts were blocking my creative thoughts".
 The cogitations about how people would judge me on the basis of my writing or whether critics would really find my pieces appealing or in the most negative sense- whether anyone would ever bother to read what I write, all these polluting thoughts were hampering with the positive ambiance of my mind. The reason why I was striving for a masterpiece was pretty simple after these realizations. The fear of being mocked by people, the fear of not sounding authentic to people, the fear of my writing not being able to reach to people, all  these fears revolved around the most commonplace word and being : people. I was trying to keep in mind how my thoughts would be received by people rather than keeping in mind how I wanted people to think through my writing.
 All these thoughts were trapping me in a nutshell and I was just procrastinating every time I pick up a pen or open a Word Doc or an online writing space. I was just trying to avoid opportunities to write, which was a sheer contrast to my earlier way when I would grab all positions that would give me a chance to put forth my views.
PC: Google Images
 But once I understood all this, I just decided that if I want to gain back a grip on writing, I am not going to think about the end result, rather I would focus on thoughts and techniques that could help me enhance my creativity. And as soon as I pledged to focus on words and contemplations rather than readers and comments, I started gaining back the power from the source that voiced my inner voice. And again the thoughts started flowing in rhythm creating words, sentences, paragraphs and this article which I would be posting after six long months of having given up writing.
 The candle did not possess a soul and hence, it did not rekindle itself in the Science experiment. But just as Rene Descartes said that Humans possess a soul and this soul sometimes controls the material body (a machine) , I feel that all the while I suffered with the confusing and depressing Block, my soul was not intervening with my machine body. But as soon as it took control over the machine through self realization, unlike the candle ,I could rekindle myself and light the vacuum of darkness and get rid of it. (Though this theory of Dualism has been updated and replaced with modern ideologies, I could use it to justify my revival.)
 This kind of spirit that I have imbibed now is something that could help anyone to revive from mild psychological conditions. When a blank and confused state begins bothering us, just trying to find the roots of the state could help us find a way and maintain a healthy mental life. Overcoming such conditions would allow more pieces of  work to become a part of the Creative Dimension of our world.


Wednesday, December 14, 2016

What the Deferral from Harvard taught me!

The thousand pages book in my arms was waiting for me to flip through it and study its lessons for my Physics Exam two days later. But my mind was altogether in a totally different dimension, speculating about my dream school- Harvard. Waves of ecstasy and waves of dismay were causing fringes of positive and negative notions in my mind. The night seemed to me like the night of the "Ultimate Decision of my Life". And rather than reading through the pages of my Physics books, I was refreshing the Application Status Portal Page for my Harvard Early Decision Application and was reading that page time and again to spot any update in my Application Status.
Image result for harvard alumni
Pic courtesy: Google Images
I knew that once the decisions are released, either I would be elated enough to betray my physics book and dance in the middle of the night or I would be mourned enough to literally drench the book with tears that would be created by the molten dream of mine. Each feeling was on the extreme sides of the emotion-o- meter, and I was naive enough to not consider any emotion that could put me in the middle of the meter- in a tranquilized state. This quandary was heightening my expectations at one moment and crushing them down the next very moment. However, I knew that this dilemma would end up very soon, with a letter from Harvard and I would be embracing any one of the extremities. 
But while I was hitting the refresh button blindly, on one seemingly unfortunate point of time, I spotted a change on the Portal. And for that moment, that final situation of heightened restlessness and suspense that reality shows try to create, was naturally created for me. But as I read the decision, it felt that the Dilemma Monster swallowed me deeper rather than sparing my life.
The people at Harvard were unable to award me with any decision and I was DEFERRED. I was trying to prolong the natural blinks of my eye so that when I read through the decision again, it might miraculously be in my favor. Nevertheless, as reality crept stealthily into my mind, I was assured that those letters were not going to change until late March. 
But this reality was seeping me into that tube slide that I was stuck in during the Water Fun Tour of fifth grade. And the whole scene made me shiver even then. The ride-keeper had not informed me that the water flow was absent in that tube and had not denied me an Admission into it. And the absence of a surge of water and the material of my swimsuit had contributed to my getting stuck in the middle of the tube such that I wasn't able to pass through the process of sliding through the ride and be Accepted in the fresh cool water that the Tube Slide led to. I was just stuck in the middle and very soon, lack of enough air was trying to take away my senses and I was yelling for help. I was hardly able to breathe in that closed slide. Trying to slide down was all in vain and I felt that this would very soon take my life away from me. I was able to relate the deferral with this traumatic and threatening experience of my life. I knew that if not for the ride-keeper who had just saved me back then, I wouldnt have been able to get a chance to face a very similar situation again. 
But the night was cruel enough to give me moments of seclusion to relate the mere deferral to all such experiences that later seemed in no way anywhere near Harvard's decision. Yet, this seclusion and the world of imagination themselves emerged as a savior for me. 
The dilemma was unending and I was examining all the odds for my acceptance later in the Regular Decision. I was sailing in the ocean of optimism ad pessimism that were trying to decide my course of life. But one thought changed the way I was perceiving everything. "This confused state had actually saved me from entering into the two extremities of emotions that a meditating enlightened person shall detest. I have heard of all the preaching in all religions to maintain a state of tranquility and peace of mind despite gains and losses." This deferral caused confusion in my mind, but I was neither happy nor sad. And no decision in life could have actually portrayed to me the importance of being in the middle of the emotion-o-meter. An acceptance or a denial would have raised emotions and the extremities would have debarred me from thinking such deeply about myself. And by then, all the tube slide analogies and feelings seemed just a null pack of ideas that a restless mind generates. 
Life is about balancing the expressions and staying in peaceful state. These verses 64-65 from Bhagwad Geeta teach us about tranquility.
"रागद्वेषवियुक्तैस्तु विषयानिन्द्रियैश्चरन् |
आत्मवश्यैर्विधेयात्मा प्रसादमधिगच्छति || 64|"
"प्रसादे सर्वदु:खानां हानिरस्योपजायते |
प्रसन्नचेतसो ह्याशु बुद्धि: पर्यवतिष्ठते || 65|"
Geeta and all other religious books teach us how overcoming the feelings of sorrow upon loses and happiness upon victories and gains could make us peaceful and takes us close to the Divine. 
So Deferral then, was the only option that would actually help me stay calm and embrace that mantra of life- the mantra which created an inner ambiance within me such that any situation could bring me peace and no other extreme emotions. I simply applied this state of mind into that night. I knew that a denial or acceptance would have hampered my connection with my Physics book. But the deferral soon helped me concentrate on my book and boosted my Mid Year Exam preparations. 
Image result for tranquility
Pic Courtesy: Google Images
So this is how deferral taught me to apply this to any decision in life. This deferral I feel, was not postponing of an admission decision by Harvard, but was a time that I was gifted with to make myself capable of sustaining any decision that could come forth. Everything happens for the good and whether my candidacy was strong enough for Harvard is no more a question for me. It is no more the melting of a dream into nothing. But rather rebuilding of my inner perceptions and refurbishing my dream with a lesson that life seldom tries to teach. 
And with no tone of sarcasm, I am deeply grateful to Harvard for putting me and all other candidates who were deferred into such a condition that would not put us into the religiously detested extremities of emotions. So now, I do hope for the best to happen to me, but I am sure that whatever happens, I am ready to face everything with peace in my heart and my mind. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

The World Beyond the Doorway!

I squinted to check if her eyes were moist. But I was amazed to spot a rather different shine in her cornea. A shine that clearly seemed to be cherished out of a mingling of  a flood of motherly affection, a deep sense of helplessness, a small trace of self pity, a bright spark of hope, a firmness of a resolution, a feeling of altruism and a love for humanity. The eyes seemed to have cried a thousand tears in the past, but now they had become a strong source of sparkling of a new light.
As I scrutinized her visage and her emotions, she continued talking in her gentle, soft -spoken  manner with pauses that were perfectly spaced. She repeated , " It was tough to accept that he wasn't normal.", but this time in such an intonation that signaled the harbinger of a melancholic personal anecdote. She began painting the portrait of the life of her differently-abled son. 

The portrait was answering my cliche questions in the most enticing ways. The insight into the outline of the life of the special child of the middle-aged lady transformed the hot North- West Indian wind blowing beneath my nose into a breeze of respect for the lady- Mrs. Neela Modi. She covered every aspect that a special child faces. "The physically developed but mentally retarded individual has almost all the bitter juices in store of his life. The mentally meek tyke is looked down on by the society. He stumbles at every step, towards, the warranted- the Death.", she said. 

Her motto of initiating and developing the Kalrav Special School in a town like Bharuch was undoubtedly noble. She added another paint to the portrait, "I had to send my son at a residential special school 200 kilometers from my house. It wasn't an easy decision. Such children need extra care from their families." For the very reason the woman of high ideals, resigned from her post as a Class 2 officer, for the service of special children of her locality, so that they need not be sent to residential special schools like her child. "Such residential schools make the special children socially- disabled too.", she added. 

With the divulge of every difficulty in the lives of such children, I dug deeper into drench of thoughts about the their ill- treatment by the normal world . But as Mrs. Modi concluded, "I am glad, Miss Vrushti Trivedi, that you do care for them and are here to be a part of their learning process.",  I suddenly gained back my sense of presence, which reminded me of how I happened to visit the Kalrav school.  It also reminded me of how I had been inspired by one of my friends, the CEO of Serve Happiness Foundation, Mr. Nitin Tailor while we talked of service to the society, to spread moments of euphoria in the lives of the special children. So, there I was, sitting in front of Mrs. Neela Modi and elucidating to her the purpose of my visit. 

Anon, Mrs. Modi introduced to me the tutor of the students, a young gentleman who had done his B.Ed in Education of Special Children. Then we walked through the doorway that  led me into the special world of ecstasy.   
There were around a 100 such students in the school

I had met several such kids before. I had even interacted with a few of them. But that was in the world where they were considered as "Mad Minds". But this sight of this world was quite different. In this world on the other side of the doorway, their innocence  was not mutated my the invasion of thoughts of the mean world. They were in company of people who appreciated their presence. Each petal of their world formed a flower of their own society, giving them a new confidence to keep up with the world of misers. 

 As I stepped into the room, there were faces that gleamed with an unknown light- a light  of deviation from the normal. They smiled several times more than the normal people do, without a tangible reason. Their expressions were baskets of pristine confessions. As I scanned through their faces, each one gazed at me with such gestures as those of astonished toddlers. They greeted me with the most welcoming of welcomes. Their hands joined with joy and faces giggled with rhapsody. With such greetings, I too entered the doorway of the new world to blend into it like the sweetest of sugars. 

We all worked together to learn alphabets, typing and such other skills. Their tutor said,  "These children require a playful and a practical implementation approach of teaching." So, I tried being a perfect friend to them. And as days rattled towards the end of  May, I had already been a part of their laughter. Their talks weren't intellectual, but in their world they told everything actual. The sheath of the masks of unreal traits were peeled off by God before these students were born. Yet along with the peeling of these superficial and supercilious sheaths, God had sliced their fruits of mental developments into such smaller fragments that couldn't even be searched by the most powerful of microscopes. 

They were facing letter identification difficulties, memory problems and such other mental complications which could never even be thought of by normal people. At times they struggled with A's and M's, and at other times they weren't able to memorize the English word for "haanthi". I showed a student the photo of the elephant and told him that it is known as an elephant in English language. When I asked him to repeat what I taught, he became as blank as the ice sheaths in Antarctica. So, I paused and then looked into his eyes, they were trying to communicate a gentile message to me, but I wasn't able to perceive the signals. For a second, silence prevailed, spreading jimjams in my physique. His eyes were intimidating enough to be holding my gaze. He possessed some unnatural power to create an aura of a miraculous affection that tried communicating with my soul but I was unperceptive enough to receive the message. With a sigh of helplessness, I simply broadened my lips for a saturnine smile, but the student smiled back with such an expression that was radiant enough to light the brightest of wicks. Yet, with all his smiles over his peccadilloes, my heart cried the most hurting of tears.
Their Eyes had some hidden messages!

But then a series cogitation soothed my pain. I thought that those living under the shadow are rather protected by the heat of the blazing Sun. Besides the hackneyed considerations of their talent as adept dancers, painters, swimmers and musicians, they possess much of the greatest of virtues- the piousness of their souls. I experienced the happiest of notions in their presence. They are affable and possessed the strength to reciprocate every tinkle of emotion showered upon them. They are as pure as the aesthetics yearn to become. 

While I was still contemplating, a sweet voice interrupted my thoughts, "Mam! How about this?". She showed me a perfectly drawn 'A'. I patted the girl and sprinkled the droplets of appreciation upon her. I know it would have sounded weird in the normal world. But for those moments I felt that I was a part of their world. Just like them I left aside all the worries and danced from within like a naive. I had planned to serve them, to teach them tackle their lives, but I had ended up being taught by them. They taught me to be present in the "moment". They taught to cherish the childish innocence without age barriers. They taught me to be encompassed by churls but yet remain polite and stable. They taught my soul to mix with the filth and yet be as clear as Himalayan streams.
They knew computer!

 Every child of each group : Minor, Moderate, Severe and Educable (based on their Intelligent Quotient Reports ) had something in store to provide me with. I packed up all their smiles, chatters, talks, affectionate gestures and teachings into the backpack of life to move on  further in my journey. My last glance of the two- storied learning center was full of faces that were wondering with enchantment when I bid them a final bye. Maybe, they didn't know that this was among the last times that we were together. But such separations too didn't matter to them because farewells are detachments of physical presence, but their hearts had already made a place for their "Madam" ( as they called me), never to be rubbed off. 

I taught them certain elementary skills
I was bound to walk out of the world, for I had "Miles to go before I sleep." Like Frost, I too was allured by the sight of these students but the temporariness of things in life is the very bitter truth. I stepped towards the office for thanking Mrs. Neela Modi to let me occupy a place in the special world. But she said, "Rather I must thank you. In this world people actually don't care for minds that could not compete with theirs. Even the siblings of such children are abashed of staying around them.

I had hundreds of words in mind, but her answer boggled me. I wondered why people couldn't comprehend that such differently- abled people are humans too. They too need words of appreciation. They too would love to earn respect in the society. If we could do nothing for them, then at least we could be genial towards them.

But I knew that philanthropy has just become a hypothetical concept and no one really bothers about the meek. In the world where average minds too have no place, can we accommodate such minds that are not even complex enough to be called the minds? Well, such questions are not to be answered in words. Their answers lie within the inner conscience of every human. We need to check if our hearts are soft enough to accept the tenderness of special people.

It was fun to be with them!

But the very next moment, as I was rummaging over an accumulation of a mixed set of positive and negative emotions in my mind, an abrupt sense of contentment spread within me. I knew that thinking about people is a broad scenario, if I individually did something, it is going to be advantageous to me emotionally as well as in terms of learning new aspects. I had pledged as I walked out of the school, though their siblings are ashamed of their existence, I would proudly say to the world, " Yes I do have friends who are mentally retarded, or to use a euphemism, are differently- abled. And they are a trillion times better than this mean world." 

I looked back for a last view of the school building. It stood there under the heat of the heated Sun. The red reddening rays of the Sun touched the bricks as though they were trying to penetrate through the the ceiling to look into the classrooms to watch innocence and tenderness bloom to its fullest and learn lessons of piousness of the soul, like I learnt. 

Their smiles were brighter than the brightest of wicks!

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Nothingness of Life

Life has always been too implicit. There are several pieces that are left untold. There’s that bridge beside which lay all the murals of the best of morals of life. People tend to be possessed by people. We are impacted by acquaintances. Our hair grow every moment storing in our lives the implicit impacts that none of the dictionaries could elucidate. Words: we get stuck into them. We fall in love with words only to realize anon that they don’t actually mean anything. Explanations and comprehensions are like being lost into the cosmos, nowhere to be found.
Sometimes it’s really the heart that speaks. The brain blackouts; thinks simply nothing; only knows that it is present. It stops analyzing the implicit nature of life. It rather enters into the trance of “nothing”. There’s where the dainty naïve heart creeps into the scenario, to speak up what we want. Not trying to understand what we want, but rather soothe us by conveying that we have already grasped everything that surrounds us. This isn’t the state of knowing, but rather the state of knowing nothing. Being aware simply of the fact that we are and that is what we ought to be.
Life trails on the sand beach like the monsters that are a part of the melodramas. The monsters are a part of the story; they do impact the drama, but finally just to end up. A happy ending, is where the storyline finds its position. So, our lives are a part of the storyline of the very universe. We are meant to be ended. Not because of our wickedness, but that there’s where the story yearns to reach- a completion- an eternal salvation.
We weigh things and feel of their thrust. We have set forth to define matter. But – matter, how does it actually matter to this giant universe. An ant is worried about its relationships. But does that bother us. Exactly, we are the ants for the inhabitants of the universe. Universe has time, it has dimensions, that are actually the protagonist of the storyline.
The implicitness does not even lie beyond the horizon; it lies nowhere- but yet it lies within us. Whether we weigh lives from our perspectives or we simply realize the unspoken, decides our end. Whether we want to be the devils of the drama, our simply be aware of the presence, just like the protagonist- time. Time and dimension are few beings that have achieved the salvation. They would never die, instead, they would diminish; gradually becoming nothing, ending the drama of the universe.
We could mingle ourselves with the heroes. But the only thing required is something beyond freedom. We need to be the waves of time, sail along with the sea; marking our preferences as null; sailing with nothing, but at the same time moving on. Just as the universe moves on.
Flamboyance, melancholy, pleasure, do they actually mean anything? We cry of laughter- what does it signify? Well, every emotion is the same. Or rather there are no emotions. Emotions all try to explicitly define “us”. But we are boundless. . A country without boundaries could not be defined. Thoughts arise within us, but when we tend to define them by words, most of them vanish into the middle of nowhere. There’s where we actually miss the implicit.  Similarly, trying to make explicit the implicitness of life, we lose the grip of its true meaning.
Abstractness has no significance in the society. Philosophies are hated the most. Why do people mock at the philosophers? Just because they try to reveal a small spec of the bitter truth of the universe?  Well, in this society of braggarts and gullible, we seek to establish concreteness. There’s where the hatred for the abstract is born. We become like law students, always in a quest for proofs for everything. But time and dimensions don’t have a proof. Have we ever seen time greeting us as we walk along its way? Have we seen dimension saying a “hello” as we try looking at it.  We ought to flow- simply; let the waves drop us to the infinity; the place which is nowhere, but yet the place where the time is heading to- Into the end of the drama of the universe. The end beyond which, there is nothing. “Nothing” is also something. Beyond which...  The extent is implicit. It could not be expressed. It could be felt.
Definitions are merely chanting old cliches and feeling the haughtiness of having eloquently murmured clever adages. This is again a mere definition. All the words above, below and underneath this paper are all an attempt to throw light upon the implicit. I would not define the implicit. But yes, there is some force that compels the tips of my fingers to spit out everything. Contemplations, assumptions, knowledge everything that I own through the frictions of life; all build up the foundations of this platform.
Our universe is an oxymoron; it is everything, but yet it is nothing. We all have a talent to talk, write, walk, swim; but that’s where the loophole comes. By recognizing and tagging, we try understanding the implicit; what the writer of the drama has created for us. So, like the ocean waves, we are also pulled back. Everything that we do is involuntary. We simply devote our bodies to the universe.
Fearless, intelligent, beautiful; we are obsessed with traits. We have set up our own morals. What if they are not in alignment with the morals of the implicit? What if we are actually being immoral by following the morals? Then what to follow? We ought to follow nothing. Right or wrong happens when we try doing something. But when we do nothing, there’s no question of right or wrong.
But then what nothing exactly is? Nothing is writing what comes from within. Nothing is doing things involuntarily. The flow of the water in a horizontal pipe is nothing. And the blockage in the pipe is something. If the water gets blocked by the clogging, then it is doing something. If it keeps flowing, without being affected, then it is doing nothing. The beating of heart is Nothing. We do not control it voluntarily. Nothing could be misinterpreted as sitting idle. But sitting idle is again something. So doing nothing is not even thinking of doing nothing. It’s the blankest of blanks.
Nothingness is such a state where everything becomes insignificant. And when everything is insignificant, then the obverse becomes non-existent. Significance vanishes and so then automatically insignificance becomes nothing. If there's only darkness, then we do not need to worry about light, so then light and dark become the same things. Light and darkness become nothing. 
Flowing with the universe, just like time and tide, we would become a part of nothing. Nothingness would merge everything and all antonyms would become synonymous. Happiness would mean melancholy and so would insomnia mean sleepiness.  
We participate in races to satisfy the urge to win. Driving in a car race might stimulate the adrenaline, but instead driving a car leisurely alongside a beach with our own beloved pace would be peaceful. This is because the beach drive would lead to nothing. And the Formula One would gift something. And this something leads to covetousness. The covetousness would devoid us from tranquility. Similarly, all words are born in the race of existence. So, if we step out from this race of existence, then we would feel the rapture of nothingness. And then existence and non-existence would merge. And we would be present in every single moment. 
We need not be a companion of time. We need to be by our own. In a race, we try keeping up with time. But time is just one other character of universe. We are keeping up with an acquaintance who has never felt our amiability because for him amiability and enmity are the same. So, if we flow along with the universe, without trying to keep up with time, mortality and immortality would be nothing. 
Exploring the implicitness like the explorers would tend to intensify the fading of the implicit. Rather if we step into the nothingness, implicit and explicit would become a single entity. 
But then how to step into the nothingness? We could simply let our soul flow like the breeze. Cogitating about nothing. Doing whatever is done involuntarily. And then, we would unconsciously become conscious. 
In the present world, we walk consciously but are unconscious of what every step feels like. But in the flow of nothing, we would be unconscious of the fact that we are walking, but we would be able to consciously feel the tenderness of every step. All our energy would be channelized towards nothing, and therefore, it wouldn't leak out of us. And if we have that energy resides within us, it would constantly evoke our consciousness unconsciously. 
So, what shall we do? Well, we should do nothing. The universe would fuel our flow. To do nothing is not worrying of what flows out of us. If there is an urge to dance or rather wave the physique. Then dance and wave. Cessation of the urge would be doing something. But letting the unconscious urge satisfy itself would be the nothing.
"Urge" would harm only if it built by our thoughts. There would be an urge to kill someone, only if it is born out of some revengeful or psychic thought. The world has polluted the word "urge" creating a negative effect of it. The urge if it is out of nothing, would mean no harm. It would just become a way to flow with the story line of the universe. 
So if we really wish to feel and be conscious of everything, getting into the trance of nothingness is the only key. It is the only state when the soul would be conscious. 
 A number line is the best instance of the universe. If we become irrational numbers that never tend to end, we would spread throughout the story line, but if we become like the rational integer, we would become stagnant, and end up in a narrow range. An irrational number tends to the nothingness. 
The full stops might seem to be the end of the sentences, but they actually are synonymous to the beginning of the lines. This write up would never end, because it never began. It is infinite. An ellipsis is rarely used. But it is that eternal tool to describe nothing...
So nothingness is nothing... Doing nothing is diving into the nothingness... Flowing with the urge is nothingness...And this nothingness is what we term as salvation..

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Intricacies of Life

 A specimen of a perfect real life story is something as given below. The story of a day from a teenager's life:
The midnight dreams that slip through the thoughts like dollops of butter sliding on the frictionless floor carry with them a pleasant scent of self satisfaction and contentment.  The euphoria soon shatters by a cry of an Egreet passing by the saffron and yellow rising sun. And then while brushing up the teeth, "I must have spoken up that day at the theatre."  While bathing in the clean water, "The girl seemed trustworthy but she revealed my secret." And then is welcomed a sorrowful visage. But until the clothes are on, a feeling of rhapsody knocks. "That victory was perfect." During the bus journey, "But why did my niece do that? The teacher shouldn't have scolded me. That uncle is a jerk, he says I must turn up to my place by eleven." The English teacher begins teaching, " I made a new friend yesterday." The swimming lessons, "But why did Roma leave the prom that night. The servant showed his impertinence to me though I am his master." The sun sets whilst the dinner is served, "Rohit calls me a nerd, though I am not." And while sleep tries entering the eyes, " I don't think I could buy a gift for Stanley's birthday, I couldn't go there empty- handed. I spent my pocket money at Steeming's Street corner bar.....And....." And a snore lets the sound sleep welcome the unreal dreams that give the pleasant sense. And this cycle continues.
 Isn't this a very good story? Or rather a baffling one with a jumble of pieces of different jigsaw puzzeles? The story is a simple and smooth one, in which a teenager gets up from bed, brushes up, bathes, travels to college in a bus and attends the English class and the swimming lessons and then dines at night and goes off to sleep. As simple as that. But then those sentences in quotes? Those are the unlinked thoughts that occupy the mind throughout the day. Those are just a pile of certain incidents that cause mood swings and interrupt our being in the present. If a paragraph- long story could become complex and puzzling when sudden thoughts without linkage are introduced into it, then how complex could our real life be when we keep thinking of past incidents. And then we add up to the air of complexity by complaining of the complexities itself. 
 Can we keep up with the events in the story when we read through the paragraph? Then how can the person in the story keep up with the tasks he performs. How can there be an improvement in his English when the young adult keeps thinking of something else throughout the lecture? And later he would complain about difficulties in English. And... the problem in his English skills would add up his thoughts, gradually diminishing the simplicity of living and entangling his thoughts. This is how  he has made his "Life in a Paragraph" complex. And this is how we make our lives complex, ourselves.
 The barraging of thoughts is as fatal as the barraging bullets on the war field. Unlinked contemplation could trap up the best of intellectuals into its mingling. The trap not only interrupts the mental productivity, but as asserted, it leaves the individual physically in the middle of nowhere, bubbling complexities in the simplest of lives. It could decrease the working efficiency by complicating the scenario.
 Every problem that originates is destined to have a solution that could pierce its convolutions and opens up a dimension to comprehend the simplicity of the problem. In a quite similar manner, the real problems of life could also be solved by simplifications. Thoughts do possess the power to cool the volcanoes and melt the glaciers, but only if they are channelized. So, to get rid of the intricacies of living, whipping on the thoughts is a solution. Whipping on, doesn't point at abstaining from repertoire of thoughts, but finding the right time and right matter to think of.
 Just like the master chefs, if anyone uses the right ingredients at the right time, a savor dish of thoughts could be cooked. Assign the ingredients the designation of thoughts, and think of the chef preparing the Pizza. If he thinks of cheese and then sugar and then rice and then salt and adds them into the pan, an erratic dish of worth the bin would be cooked.
 All these paragraphs might also could seem to be complicating the matter, if they are not integrated into a single point. So, the gist of all these lines is that we need to possess a control over our thinking, by indulging into ourselves and building up an imaginary press button switch in our minds.
How thoughts entangle in our minds
 If the child in that perplexing story drowns into thinking of the grammar in the English class, he would excel into it. Thinking of Roma in the English class wouldn't help him. If he would have channelized the thoughts about Roma while at the prom, then maybe, she would not have left abruptly.
 Every labyrinth has its way out. Once it is found, it would be a leisurely experience to stroll into the maze the next time. Similarly, if we comprehend the solution to the complexity of life, no numerical of high- level scientific application too would seem complicated. Life would be much easier to live. The word "complex" would become an imaginary word in the dictionary.
 But these "would"s and "could"s could not be achieved by simply stating the remedy to solve complexities in brief. Every panacea must be a detailed description of procedures of following the remedial measures. So, if we get into channelizing of thoughts' procedure's detailed description, it would lead us to those very common terms- Self-Assurance and Realization.
Concentrate and Meditate
 Self- assurance requires assuring ourselves that we possess the ability to control our thoughts. So the first step would be to gain that confidence by believing strongly that we can control the thoughts that strike us. The next step would be the very popular one- befriending ourselves and peeping into our being and knowing what we actually are. Knowing what thoughts suit us, and what thoughts might harm our being.  Then comes the step of marking preferences. Once the preferences are marked, then comes the realization part. We need to realize, which thought is to be put under which preference at a particular time. And once this assigning is done, we may start thinking freely about that point, leaving aside all other thoughts.
 This method might seem to be obstructing free thoughts and annexing from our minds, the freedom of thinking. But actually, it does not do so. This is because our thoughts itself would regulate the arrival of thoughts. Moreover, its not about stopping the thoughts, but waiting for the correct time to pour the water out from the pots, so that it doesn't mix with the other liquids already poured. So this method would help us to solve the toughest puzzles of life. Because is all about being in the present moments. So, if we can direct our thinking to be in the present than all our energy would get directed to solve the problems of the "present".
 Once all the filaments are untangled, the complexities would disappear and life would seem simpler. So life is all about directing thoughts. Once this trick is mastered through concentration, life would be enchanting and elating. We would gain a power to stand like boulders in the toughest of situations and focus our thoughts like the coherent laser lines onto overcoming a particular situation. And ultimately we would be able to taste the sweetest essence of simplicity in our lives.

Pic Courtesy: Google Images

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Gross Domestic Happiness

The words from a speech at a State level Debate- Premises of the speaker: Vrushti Trivedi

Gross Domestic Happiness is more important in judging the well being of a country than Gross domestic Product.
   We all know that GDP measures the number of goods produced and thus, the economy of the country. But do we know the actual meaning of the word happiness? Happiness is a state of mind. It does not depend on acquiring material products. If to be rich were to be happy, then why do we see stress, depression and suicide rates rising even though the economy is growing? Just see Japan, according to the World Bank it ranks third in GDP in the world. Then why does it have such a high suicide rate of 26 persons per 100,000 individuals? So, even if a country’s GDP is high, but GDH is low, we cannot say that the country is in a state of well being. Though Hitler succeeded in increasing the GDP of Germany from the Great Depression to particular normal levels, yet we all know that Germany under the Nazis was not a happy Germany.
Google Images
The importance of happiness has been comprehended years ago. The sages spent their entire lives in   the forest. Did they ever worry about their trading concerns or their means of earning a livelihood? No, because they had understood that the ultimate goal of life is the bliss of the soul. So, this idea of GDH is in accordance to the ancient Holy Scriptures which encourage humans to be happy.
The term GDH was actually coined by Jigme- the ruler of Bhutan. And today, Bhutan is the happiest country in the world. It measures GDH on a certain scale based on equitable social development, cultural preservation, conservation of the environment and good governance.  This policy has attracted other countries which are also developing such Indexes because they have come to know that socioeconomic and cultural development is much more important than simply economic development.  Gross Domestic Product could measure amount of goods and services and so on.  But it could not measure the health of an individual or the quality of education provided to the students. It could not measure the joy, the rights, the ideals and the beliefs of the citizens of a country. In short, it could not measure all the factors that make our lives worth living.
People say that health could be achieved by spending money. But actually, our mind is much stronger than our body and controls each and every aspect of it. This is proven by a research by Julia Boehm and her colleagues from the Harvard School of Public Health which says that “Positive thoughts and a happy mind could reduce the chances of getting strokes and heart attacks and so is the case with other diseases.”
A cake adorned with artistic icing may appear to be very tempting but ultimately, it is the taste which matters. So while GDP is the icing, GDH is the cake itself. So, an increase in GDP would not necessarily buy happiness . But yes, an increase in GDH would definitely increase the per capita efficiency of the individuals and hence increase the GDP of the county.

To summarize, I would say, that every country must be judged on the basis of its GDH rather than GDP, so that the policy makers could concentrate more on GDH levels of the country. Was King Midas happy by the touch of gold? Similarly, no country could be happy by increased levels of GDP only. So, we should all try to be happy and contribute to the growth of the GDH of the country. 

Saturday, January 16, 2016

In Love

The gloomy night seemed a joyful matter,
For my heart was unjust and somewhere lost.
I felt the charms being sung to me,
A fluid of fun circulated in my cells.
Though my thoughts were impermeable to all worries,
But there was something mating my mind
To think of something rather blissful.
My lips urged to broaden up,
For something intimate had licked my mind.
My soul felt restful and purer than ever,
There was something for which I was glad.
I took a second and took a step back,
To know what kept me awake.
A shrill cry I just gave abrupt,
For I came to know that I was in love.
In love with someone whose never a past.
Yet a weird worry nested in my heart.
I was doubtful to the extent of an ocean,
“Whether he ever noticed me?”
He smiles with a shine forever,
But his eyes never seem to take my sight,
“Will he ever be mine?”
I have been pondering onto this point
At all times and rather at night,
But something that science could guarantee is
That my love will always enchant me with his light.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Homage to the Pope

Image source: Google Images
The Pope has declared the year 2015 as "The Year of Consecrated Life". I pay homage to this
declaration through this article on Consecrated Lives. It is an account of my honest personal experiences with consecrated people. This account won the Best Essay award in the student's category in the entire North-western province in the Provincial Consecrated Life Essay competition.

The Consecrated Life
That’s my chocolate”, yelled the 4 year old tyke, and her brother rushed behind her. Do we humans know what could be called as “mine” in our life. We all are the children of God, then how can we tag anything as “our” when we ourselves aren’t “our’s”?  Did that infant know of the spiritual world and the essence of life?  So her words could be excused. But the baffling point is that with growing knowledge of life that we gain with age, our “mine”s become even more dominant. The chocolates are replaced with other possessions. And in the murk of the greed for tagging more of elements made by the Creator as “mine”, we gradually forget our Creator himself.
 In such a scenario, presence of consecrated lives is quite flabbergasting. These serene and composed humans are the true idol of chastity and purity. In a world where people cannot sacrifice chocolates, there are people who devote their entire lives in service of God.
 Being a Convent student, in every walk of school life, I have been with the consecrated people. Their abnegation of worldly life has always been appealing to me since childhood.
 The archives section of my brain reminds me of my very first day at school in India. The sight of my principal- a nun, was more tranquilizing than anything else. I wondered why she wore that white cloak-like dress. But the glow of chastity and divine knowledge on her face attracted my attention. And so was the case with other sisters from our Convent. The way they walked, the way they conveyed knowledge and the way they spoke had created an ambience of peace at school. Being an innocent infant, I didn’t understand what made me gaze at those people, but today I understand its secret.
 My interaction with the sacred people was soon not bound to one country alone. I met a father at a church abutting my house in Britain. Being new to the country, I used to have a feeling of insecurity within me. I talked my heart out to him when I met him. I never used to participate in any school events. But the next day Bramley Church of England Infant School had a mere demonstration or something, and for that it was to conduct some act by the students. The priest of that church was coincidently organizing it and so he came into the hall in our school and chose me for the main role. From that day itself, I earned a new confidence. I was encouraged by a consecrated person to show up my talent among strangers.
 It is said that the consecrated people help in the uplifting the poor. They serve God by serving the humans- his Creation. For me, that priest was a blessing of God. So, the consecrated people not only help the poor and the needy, but they sow a seed of confidence in every frightful heart, a seed of hope in every melancholic being and a seed of religiousness and spirituality in every soul.
 So, when I returned back to India, I compelled my father to get me an admission in the same Convent School I studied, before going to Britain.
Every person has a gloomy part just like I had, in shifting of countries rapidly. Though we didn’t settle in England after the immigration, but I brought back to India, a changed myself, affected by the culture of Europe. And so I had become the reason for everyone’s merriment at school. My attitude, accent and behavior seemed strange to my Indian mates. And so being bantered was obvious. I used to cry every night underneath my blanket. I had as though become a victim of mental abuse. But luckily, I had a sister as our class teacher. She soon understood the situation and held my hand, lifted me up, and gave me a new attitude of settling issues of life. She didn’t stop the mischievous students, but her words and her presence gave me the strength to tackle the depressed condition.
 How can I ever forget the help of these two consecrated people? They have contributed to making me what I am today- A confident student, ready to fight against all odds. All words of gratitude fall short of their effect.
 This is about me, a sixteen year old, than what of those who are elder and have ever been in contact with these consecrated people? Their lives must have been inspired deeply by these sacred humans.
 Even today, at one point or the other, I am inspired by the chastity and composure of these people. The way they organize everything and tackle situations has always taught me great lessons. The control over their desires and their temper has always been a point to learn from. Their lives are a true example of dedicating oneself to God. They live such a life that they can become closer to Jesus. Their solemn prayers invoke in us a feeling of closeness to God.
 Secularism exists in every society. So, the most important part is respecting each other’s faith. And these consecrated lives have always respected the religion of the students. This point heightens my level of respect for them.
  From Sciences to Morals, they have been the best of teachers of the subjects. Whether it be the ‘A’ or the ‘Amen’, they have always taught us in the best manner, invoking in us a respect for all the knowledge that we gain.
  For me, these consecrated people have changed my life and added a better scent into it- the scent of the purity of Virgin Mary into it.
 We must learn to dedicate ourselves to God from these people. If not completely, then at least to some extent. The aura of peace is what we must develop around us in order to do so.
 Pope Francis declared 2015 as the Year of Consecrated Lives, but I would say, every year could be the Year of Consecrated Lives because the selflessness of these people has uplifted millions. Just like St. Teresa, every Consecrated person today, is spending himself to spread light in the lives of other people. I thank all the consecrated people from the deepest core of my heart for all that they have done for me and for my brothers and sisters round the world.