THE pH OF MY LIFE
The empty pack of Frooti lay at my feet. I crushed the emblem of defeat out of frustration. It had not lasted longer than the first few sips. Though the taste of fresh mango lingered in my mouth for quite a long time, yet I was not satisfied. I wanted the packet to lat longer; I wanted it to yield a bit more of the happiness that it had promised to me.
I sometimes marvel at the utter simplicity with which my life presents itself, but I am also awestruck by the metaphors used in telling my story: The Creator does have a wonderful sense of dramaturgy. The story always weaves its magic around the circle of my life. Recognizing the truth of a moment has been as exciting as discovering the soul of the universe.
My universe knows no boundaries. No boundaries have been delineated for me, but I somehow feel stifled in my world. This world is new to me, I know that there are other galaxies waiting to be explored, but the incumbent situation has revealed such truths that they are enough to anoint the wounds of my life for the time being. My life has been bleeding profusely for ling time. It would be wrong to place all the blame on myself. I lay past of the burden on the shoulders of my fate that has framed my situation and ruled over my lot.
My lot makes me relies that it was a pleasant walk in the night, it was much better to walk by the night than by the day. The scorching heat was not a part of the night, the night even saved me from the agony of having to bear the burden of my shadow: while the day was full of long and dark shadows, there wasn’t a single one in the night. I do feel a bit lonely in the night, but the company of one’s shadow can be quite intimidating. The walk by the night is in many ways better than the walk by the day. The exercise is so pleasing that the night seems to be walking with me. It is unbelievable how my destiny and the night can saunter together like pilgrims, without talking, merely walking. The two have been in each other’s company for such a long time that I feel that I was better off in the night.
The night never made me a lone traveler. Things were never gloomy. I never went out of the way to do anything to alleviate my alleged loneliness: I didn’t have to. There was the moon in the heavens, there were the stars in the firmament, and moreover, there was the hope of the dawn following the night. The optimism was also accompanied by my experiences that the happiness that life promises to us is never long-lasting. While most of it fades away with time, yet some of it merely lingers for a while like the taste of the mango-juice. The memoirs of the promises that life lives up to too fade away with time.
Time emerges as a brutal monster, but it is not as merciless as it seems to be. Time also does its best to anoint the wounds of the past, it always succeeds in its attempts, things don’t seem to be as miserable as they once were, and the pilgrims continue their trek. Several incidents of the past are like a joke for me now. Each joke reminds me that my life has not been as bad as it is, things were never as gloomy, life was never as gloomy: the adversities that life presents before us are merely a passing phase; happiness forms the continuum. The stretch of happiness is the favourite oasis for the pilgrims trekking across the dull and serene spectrum of my life. Each beautiful moment of my life stands out as an oasis, the lingering freshness of each beautiful moment of my life has somehow diminished the sourness of the painful moments.
The painful moments are like the taste of Frooti that lingers on in my mouth for a while, but eventually fades away giving way to a neutral taste. Life seldom remains neutral for a long time. The pH of my life alternates between the acid and basic pH values as often as the day alternates with the night during one’s lifetime. The taste of mango is a mixture of acid and basic radicals. Life is also a mixture of happy and sad moment: the mixture only adds to the taste. Whatever may be said of our lives, our existence leaves us with no choice but to hang on to the flow of life; this is what makes everyday of our lives exciting. I will enjoy the last drop o my life, I will enjoy the last drop of the juice in Frooti.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
THE PASSING MOMENTS
THE PASSING MOMENTS
As I peeled off the paper covering the cake of soap today, I was mesmerized by the fragrance emanating from the paper. I preserved the paper covering to preserve the fragrance till I finally threw it off a few moments ago. I could not have kept it in the form forever, although I wanted to preserve the novelty of the experience. The fragrance is still fresh in my mind, although the physical form is no longer with me.
The physical from of each moment fades in into eternity as and when the next moment takes over. The passage of time has always impressed me with its ubiquitous flow. At times, it is a painful experience for me, while at other moments, it transforms itself into a beautiful enigma. Of course, behind the beautiful form, there lies another form of the passing moments.
The passing moments always leave behind a lasting impression on me. Though the physical form of each moment is evanescent, it vanishes as soon as the next moment manifests itself, yet I have always wanted to capture the abstract form of the entity; although its fragrance that is like that of the new cake of soap, I know that it cannot be captured, I don’t want to lose it. The freshness of each moment is the most beautiful part of it, it fades as time moves ahead, each end every moment of my life fades in to eternity as the next moment arrives. The passage of time pushes the passing moments of my life into my history, the behemoth of time marches ahead.
As time marches ahead, every passing moment of my life fleeing from the clutches of time behaves like young children brought up in a bucolic background chasing rabbits in the field. The passing moments swim in my mind like these children swim in a village pond, these moments splash around my conscious self like kids running around a slushy paddy field and they jump into my vibrant present like these kids jump from trees into ponds. Each child maintains a distinct personality despite the similarity in experience. Each passing moment has left behind a different experience for me, each moment has struck a different chord in the harp of my life, every moment that fades into obscurity has resonated with a different frequency in my life. The difference demands a creative approach to the expression of each moment, novelty of expression is what is sought for in every moment of my life. Novelty at each turn of my life demands creativity to be at its peak. Creativity requires freshness to be in abundance. I’m grateful that each moment of my life is fresh and new, its expression should be novel and new, every moment of my life should be expressed with freshness.
The freshness and novelty of the passing moments of my life is lost like the fragrance of soap in a few moments. I have always wanted to preserve the novelty and excitement of the passing moments. The efforts to preserve the novelty and freshness are called art. My art is simply an effort to preserve the freshness of each passing moment. I have preserved my experiences in the form of words, I have captured the passing moments in words. The effort is aimed at repairing the broken locks of my destiny. I want to rewrite my destiny, they are an effort to make my destiny bite the dust before the passing moments. All my efforts ate in vain because, the ends of the day, the winners are the passing moments.
Every passing moment of my life strikes my intellect with such a sharp force that each and every element of the artillery of my life is shaken. It is the element of surprise in the drams of life that is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the drama of life is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the dram of life, doesn’t liner for a long time to come. The freshness and novelty of each moment fades with the passage of time. I do want to capture the innocence with which each moment manifests itself. Each new and novel moment of my life brings a sense of novelty with itself. I want to capture this novelty in words. I want to capture the thrilling moments that would bring Zeenat into the world. These moments would resonate my life with fresh music: the music would be the best ever, it would be my way of declaring my victory over my fate, it would be like having crossed a very busy road.
Crossing the road is an ordeal that I have to undergo everyday. With cars, scooters, and bikes zooming across the road, I fear being run over, but I cross the road all the same because the office stands at the other end of the road. Life presents numerous obstacles in my way everyday, I’m intimidated by the heavy traffic traversing the road, but I cross over all the same; this is the test that
Allah puts me to, I’m intimidated by the problems haunting my existence, but I shall not pause. I have to appear for an examination several times, I am subjected to an examination everyday. The sweet fragrance from the paper covering the soap is enticing enough; though it is evanescent, yet I cross the road all the same.
As I peeled off the paper covering the cake of soap today, I was mesmerized by the fragrance emanating from the paper. I preserved the paper covering to preserve the fragrance till I finally threw it off a few moments ago. I could not have kept it in the form forever, although I wanted to preserve the novelty of the experience. The fragrance is still fresh in my mind, although the physical form is no longer with me.
The physical from of each moment fades in into eternity as and when the next moment takes over. The passage of time has always impressed me with its ubiquitous flow. At times, it is a painful experience for me, while at other moments, it transforms itself into a beautiful enigma. Of course, behind the beautiful form, there lies another form of the passing moments.
The passing moments always leave behind a lasting impression on me. Though the physical form of each moment is evanescent, it vanishes as soon as the next moment manifests itself, yet I have always wanted to capture the abstract form of the entity; although its fragrance that is like that of the new cake of soap, I know that it cannot be captured, I don’t want to lose it. The freshness of each moment is the most beautiful part of it, it fades as time moves ahead, each end every moment of my life fades in to eternity as the next moment arrives. The passage of time pushes the passing moments of my life into my history, the behemoth of time marches ahead.
As time marches ahead, every passing moment of my life fleeing from the clutches of time behaves like young children brought up in a bucolic background chasing rabbits in the field. The passing moments swim in my mind like these children swim in a village pond, these moments splash around my conscious self like kids running around a slushy paddy field and they jump into my vibrant present like these kids jump from trees into ponds. Each child maintains a distinct personality despite the similarity in experience. Each passing moment has left behind a different experience for me, each moment has struck a different chord in the harp of my life, every moment that fades into obscurity has resonated with a different frequency in my life. The difference demands a creative approach to the expression of each moment, novelty of expression is what is sought for in every moment of my life. Novelty at each turn of my life demands creativity to be at its peak. Creativity requires freshness to be in abundance. I’m grateful that each moment of my life is fresh and new, its expression should be novel and new, every moment of my life should be expressed with freshness.
The freshness and novelty of the passing moments of my life is lost like the fragrance of soap in a few moments. I have always wanted to preserve the novelty and excitement of the passing moments. The efforts to preserve the novelty and freshness are called art. My art is simply an effort to preserve the freshness of each passing moment. I have preserved my experiences in the form of words, I have captured the passing moments in words. The effort is aimed at repairing the broken locks of my destiny. I want to rewrite my destiny, they are an effort to make my destiny bite the dust before the passing moments. All my efforts ate in vain because, the ends of the day, the winners are the passing moments.
Every passing moment of my life strikes my intellect with such a sharp force that each and every element of the artillery of my life is shaken. It is the element of surprise in the drams of life that is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the drama of life is its soul. The freshness of each impact, the element of surprise in the dram of life, doesn’t liner for a long time to come. The freshness and novelty of each moment fades with the passage of time. I do want to capture the innocence with which each moment manifests itself. Each new and novel moment of my life brings a sense of novelty with itself. I want to capture this novelty in words. I want to capture the thrilling moments that would bring Zeenat into the world. These moments would resonate my life with fresh music: the music would be the best ever, it would be my way of declaring my victory over my fate, it would be like having crossed a very busy road.
Crossing the road is an ordeal that I have to undergo everyday. With cars, scooters, and bikes zooming across the road, I fear being run over, but I cross the road all the same because the office stands at the other end of the road. Life presents numerous obstacles in my way everyday, I’m intimidated by the heavy traffic traversing the road, but I cross over all the same; this is the test that
Allah puts me to, I’m intimidated by the problems haunting my existence, but I shall not pause. I have to appear for an examination several times, I am subjected to an examination everyday. The sweet fragrance from the paper covering the soap is enticing enough; though it is evanescent, yet I cross the road all the same.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
MY ART
MY ART
All creative pursuits are therapeutic. My passion for writing is like a therapeutic bath in an Italian geyser. My writings are virtually an expression of my inner turbulence. The volcanic eruptions that are the order of the day within me are reflected in my writings. This is the only way I can bring out the lava brewing within me before it can erupt in the form of a volcano.
The volcano erupts, it erupts for everyone, every individual has his tantrum, and every artist has his outbursts demanding an exit to his talents. Curiously, all this is done for the sake of appreciation. An artist creates art partly for the sake of his satisfaction, and partly for appreciation, all artists crave for appreciation, I crave for appreciation.
Appreciation is a typical entity. Some people are openly obvious about the happiness it brings to them, while others try to make you believe that it doesn’t affect them very much. Despite the modest front that the latter put up, somewhere deep in our hearts, all of us want to be praised, we live for it, we crave for it. Appreciation is something that brings a smile on the artists’ face, it makes us feel very good, it makes me very happy. The truth that emerges from all this is that I may be little lost without it. A word of appreciation, a single word, is what I yearn for. It makes me very happy when someone points out that he or she has at least read one of my writings, and my happiness knows no bounds when I’m praised.
My writings are a portrayal of the world within me. They are an attempt to explore the different aspects of my personality. They are a reflection of my inner self. My writings reflect the joyous moments of my life as well as the ironies of my life. They are a window to my life. When someone reads my writings, it gives me immense pleasure and satisfaction at the thought that someone has browsed through my heart’s contents. My writings cannot leave the reader untouched, it is imperative that the reader expresses appreciation. There is nothing better than a few words of praise of me. I yearn of praise as a famished Arab pines for a glass of water. My writings are a reflection of my emotions, these emotions make up my life, through my writings, I want people to appreciate my life.
The bedrock of my life seems to be as vibrant with emotions as the strings of a guitar blazing with the latest music. My writings have been the formula for the chemical reactions that my emotions transcribe o the surface of my heart. My heart misses a beat when these inscriptions are made. The saga of my life takes care to inscribe emotions with every passing moment, every inscription marks a missing heart-beat, but I manage to survive the test of time. The inscriptions on my heart connote my dreams. They are symbolic of my aspirations to soar high in the world. I’m capable of transcribing these engravings on the paper, I thus give a permanent form to my inner thoughts, this is the only way that I can survive the test of time, this is the only way I can thank Allah for this beautiful gift, this is the only way I can bring out my emotions.
My emotions are constantly in a state of flux. They keep changing, new emotions erupt in my heart with the passing moments, new inscriptions are made, new chemical equations are written every day and my heart resonates with fresh music everyday. I’m always open to new sounds, new tunes, new thoughts and new ideas, I don’t seem to have an option but to embrace novelty in my life in whatever form it might be delivered. The expression of these new equations takes a new route, and the music sounds different.
All my writings have a different sound-track because life is so different. My writings are a reflection of the differences between my life and an ordinary life. My writings are tweaked according to my life, but almost anyone can find a reflection of one’s self in my writings. My writings are symbolic, but the emotions that I put forth through tem are real. My writings are an attempt to field my feelings before the world, but everyone can find his or her feelings transcribed when one reads them. I hope you do read them!
All creative pursuits are therapeutic. My passion for writing is like a therapeutic bath in an Italian geyser. My writings are virtually an expression of my inner turbulence. The volcanic eruptions that are the order of the day within me are reflected in my writings. This is the only way I can bring out the lava brewing within me before it can erupt in the form of a volcano.
The volcano erupts, it erupts for everyone, every individual has his tantrum, and every artist has his outbursts demanding an exit to his talents. Curiously, all this is done for the sake of appreciation. An artist creates art partly for the sake of his satisfaction, and partly for appreciation, all artists crave for appreciation, I crave for appreciation.
Appreciation is a typical entity. Some people are openly obvious about the happiness it brings to them, while others try to make you believe that it doesn’t affect them very much. Despite the modest front that the latter put up, somewhere deep in our hearts, all of us want to be praised, we live for it, we crave for it. Appreciation is something that brings a smile on the artists’ face, it makes us feel very good, it makes me very happy. The truth that emerges from all this is that I may be little lost without it. A word of appreciation, a single word, is what I yearn for. It makes me very happy when someone points out that he or she has at least read one of my writings, and my happiness knows no bounds when I’m praised.
My writings are a portrayal of the world within me. They are an attempt to explore the different aspects of my personality. They are a reflection of my inner self. My writings reflect the joyous moments of my life as well as the ironies of my life. They are a window to my life. When someone reads my writings, it gives me immense pleasure and satisfaction at the thought that someone has browsed through my heart’s contents. My writings cannot leave the reader untouched, it is imperative that the reader expresses appreciation. There is nothing better than a few words of praise of me. I yearn of praise as a famished Arab pines for a glass of water. My writings are a reflection of my emotions, these emotions make up my life, through my writings, I want people to appreciate my life.
The bedrock of my life seems to be as vibrant with emotions as the strings of a guitar blazing with the latest music. My writings have been the formula for the chemical reactions that my emotions transcribe o the surface of my heart. My heart misses a beat when these inscriptions are made. The saga of my life takes care to inscribe emotions with every passing moment, every inscription marks a missing heart-beat, but I manage to survive the test of time. The inscriptions on my heart connote my dreams. They are symbolic of my aspirations to soar high in the world. I’m capable of transcribing these engravings on the paper, I thus give a permanent form to my inner thoughts, this is the only way that I can survive the test of time, this is the only way I can thank Allah for this beautiful gift, this is the only way I can bring out my emotions.
My emotions are constantly in a state of flux. They keep changing, new emotions erupt in my heart with the passing moments, new inscriptions are made, new chemical equations are written every day and my heart resonates with fresh music everyday. I’m always open to new sounds, new tunes, new thoughts and new ideas, I don’t seem to have an option but to embrace novelty in my life in whatever form it might be delivered. The expression of these new equations takes a new route, and the music sounds different.
All my writings have a different sound-track because life is so different. My writings are a reflection of the differences between my life and an ordinary life. My writings are tweaked according to my life, but almost anyone can find a reflection of one’s self in my writings. My writings are symbolic, but the emotions that I put forth through tem are real. My writings are an attempt to field my feelings before the world, but everyone can find his or her feelings transcribed when one reads them. I hope you do read them!
THE LORE OF MY LIFE
THE LORE OF MY LIFE
An extremely hot and dry weather is the order of the day these days. This is certainly a change after the biting cold weather of January. Though the worst seems to be over, things seem to be changing, yet a total recovery from the cold spell is quite far off: I still shiver in the wee hours of the morning. There is a crescendo of voices within me saying that I am almost a the end of the worst phase of my life: this could be a mirage, the end may yet be far off, but I remind myself that I’ve very little control over my life.
My life has been through such fire and brimstone that I sometimes wonder at the amazing resilience that I have displayed against the raucous perennial strains of time to dint the fabric of my life. My fate had once made a lot of promises to me that were full of high-flown rhetoric and grand-sounding convictions. I now realise that they were merely an election-manifesto put forth by political parties to incite innocent voters to vote for them. The promises were a part of a deal or a bargain put forth by my fate; some of these promises have been fulfilled, while several are still in the pipeline, they may be kept at some point of time in the future, or they may not. The implicit purpose behind making these promises was, of course, to ensure that I keep marching in a definite direction regardless of whether I emerge as a winner or not.
No one will emerge as a winner at the end of the day, but everyone will win when the next day dawns. The lore of life covered between sunrise and sunset is as coulourful as a rainbow despite the darkness of the night following the sunset. Our lives manage an astonishing variety of roles with aplomb between the two events. Destiny can always be banked upon to enrich our lives with its bag of surprises. The manouveres of destiny are never a surprise for it, although they do alarm us with the element of surprise in our lives: everything has been a conscious decision taken by destiny, everything takes us by surprise. All of us consider ourselves special in the world as the surprises that greet us are quite personal: of course, they don’t seem to affect the larger scheme of things. And yet, the reality that emerges from our lives is that although we don’t perceive ourselves as significant in the drama of life, a mere wayfarer peering closely through the latticed windows of our lives is often taken aback to see how carefully each role has been shaped up. Our efforts to control the drama of life matter a lot, we must do our share of work assigned to us by our destiny, we must execute the decisions of destiny to the best of our abilities despite the truth that each decision taken by our destiny emerges as an expression of the helplessness, anguish, anger, frustration and the fluctuating optimism that we express over our lives.
Our lives are full of fierce and delicate emotions of fear, anxiety and prejudice. Everyone lives almost the same life, everyone has to make some compromises between time and destiny, it is a situation that looms large in the horizon as the tussle between fate and time ensues, the situation is sometimes quite ugly, but when one looks at life as a whole, he ensemble is not that bad. Every life works out to be a work of fiction based on a thousand true-stories; while the individual stories may not sound well, the entire epic of life is not that bad after all.
After all the drama in my life, I now realise that all of it was orchestrated by my destiny. I would be wrong in cursing time for the end that it has brought me to: my life has been trekking along a path shown to it by my destiny. Tradition demands that I should honour the dictates of time; I should keep marching regardless of the end scripted for me: my destiny has scripted a future known only to it.
It would be wrong to curse my destiny for the incumbent spell of bad weather in my life. Time would certainly bring a change in the weather, although my destiny would still remain away from its clutches. I would eventually stop shivering in the morning, the warm weather would set in completely, and the worst would finally be over.
Friday, April 10, 2009
THE CIRCLE OF LIFE
THE CIRCLE OF LIFE
It was 5:45 pm when I got back from the office yesterday. I took off my shoes, offered namaz, and consumed the glass of milk on the table. Everything was the same. I knew that nothing had changed in my world; the canvas of my life lay unravished like a virgin as it was the day before, and yet I knew the very consciousness of my existence in the world had changed everything.
Everything in the world seems to exist in the world for my sake. I’m like a plant tended with dare, unaware of the continuous labour involved for the gardener, but I do have an inkling of the enormous industry at work in the world that goes on unseen everyday so that I might emerge as a winner at the end of the day. My transition to a happier tomorrow seems to be so important that almost everything in the world seems to be pre-occupied with ensuring the happiness of the next day. Despite the awareness of the concerted efforts of the world’s forces in my favour, I’m also conscious of the bipolarity of these forces. While one half of the world seems to have no occupation but to shower problems on me night and day, the other half seems to be busy in solving them after a couple of cycles of sunrise and sunset, but the difference between each sunset and sunrise seems to be so vast that I begin to doubt whether the blazing sun would ever set in the west in the evening, or even whether the night following the sunset would come to an end. The key to sustenance through the night and the scorching heat of the sun has been my persistence. My insistence on marching ahead despite the overwhelming darkness of the night and the sweltering heat of the sun has brought me through a vast distance. The realisation of the vast distance covered seems to assure me that the night would come to an end; the night would certainly come to an end.
The end of the dark and forbidding night would certainly bring an element of change in my life, but it would bring with itself the intolerable heat of the sun. A few alteration s would have to be made to my life that has been wafting along like thistledown in the wind, so that I can embrace the warmth of the sun without any discomfort. Initially, I would have to see the world through squinted eyes because of the blinding glare of the sun, but the change would be welcome after the long, dark and cold night that I have been through.
Throughout the night, I was subjected to a world reigned over by my dreams. Some of these dreams would commute themselves to reality soon, while most of them would return to haunt me for a long time to come. The dreams that come true would be so enticing that I would wish to go to sleep again, but when I think it over again, the real world is much better than the imagined allegories that were a part of the night.
Without the imagined allegories that were a part of the night, my life would be a vast empty room full of nothing. If I peer very closely into every part of my life, I would realise that my fate has scripted several short-stories for me, but these stories could not turn into reality. These stories form an important part of the epic of my life, they have contributed their share to my bliss, and many more stories are in the making! These stories are preserved in the deepest corner of my heart as some of the most memorable moments of my life.
Life comes back a full circle back to where it all started. I was standing in the same place when I returned from the office today, and looked up at the clock----it was 5:45 pm. Nothing had changed since yesterday.
It was 5:45 pm when I got back from the office yesterday. I took off my shoes, offered namaz, and consumed the glass of milk on the table. Everything was the same. I knew that nothing had changed in my world; the canvas of my life lay unravished like a virgin as it was the day before, and yet I knew the very consciousness of my existence in the world had changed everything.
Everything in the world seems to exist in the world for my sake. I’m like a plant tended with dare, unaware of the continuous labour involved for the gardener, but I do have an inkling of the enormous industry at work in the world that goes on unseen everyday so that I might emerge as a winner at the end of the day. My transition to a happier tomorrow seems to be so important that almost everything in the world seems to be pre-occupied with ensuring the happiness of the next day. Despite the awareness of the concerted efforts of the world’s forces in my favour, I’m also conscious of the bipolarity of these forces. While one half of the world seems to have no occupation but to shower problems on me night and day, the other half seems to be busy in solving them after a couple of cycles of sunrise and sunset, but the difference between each sunset and sunrise seems to be so vast that I begin to doubt whether the blazing sun would ever set in the west in the evening, or even whether the night following the sunset would come to an end. The key to sustenance through the night and the scorching heat of the sun has been my persistence. My insistence on marching ahead despite the overwhelming darkness of the night and the sweltering heat of the sun has brought me through a vast distance. The realisation of the vast distance covered seems to assure me that the night would come to an end; the night would certainly come to an end.
The end of the dark and forbidding night would certainly bring an element of change in my life, but it would bring with itself the intolerable heat of the sun. A few alteration s would have to be made to my life that has been wafting along like thistledown in the wind, so that I can embrace the warmth of the sun without any discomfort. Initially, I would have to see the world through squinted eyes because of the blinding glare of the sun, but the change would be welcome after the long, dark and cold night that I have been through.
Throughout the night, I was subjected to a world reigned over by my dreams. Some of these dreams would commute themselves to reality soon, while most of them would return to haunt me for a long time to come. The dreams that come true would be so enticing that I would wish to go to sleep again, but when I think it over again, the real world is much better than the imagined allegories that were a part of the night.
Without the imagined allegories that were a part of the night, my life would be a vast empty room full of nothing. If I peer very closely into every part of my life, I would realise that my fate has scripted several short-stories for me, but these stories could not turn into reality. These stories form an important part of the epic of my life, they have contributed their share to my bliss, and many more stories are in the making! These stories are preserved in the deepest corner of my heart as some of the most memorable moments of my life.
Life comes back a full circle back to where it all started. I was standing in the same place when I returned from the office today, and looked up at the clock----it was 5:45 pm. Nothing had changed since yesterday.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
THE SHIELD
THE SHIELD
There was a time when I could bear the torments of fate with considerable ease, I went through the ordeal without any grudge, fate wasn't as cruel at that time. Then things began to change, fate began hurling hail-stones at me, and my life took an ugly turn. These aspects of my life have now been brushed under the carpet by the flow of time; a large part of my life has been blipped out for the sake of sanity of my mind, although several portions of my past still remain intact in my memory. My life has been through and will undergo so many ups and downs that I feel that I have lost interest in life. The wobbly path that my life has been trekking along has been quite uncomfortable; it has certainly initiated a lot of changes in my life. However, the different stages that my life has been through has left me without any wishes. There doesn't seem to be anything worthwhile to ask for after every namaz that I offer. All this emerges despite the realization that the entire show was stage-managed by my fate; I merely played my role of a faithful protagonist. I was sensitized by my fate to see through what was an orchestrated drama, the results of which had been decided even before I was born. My fate held its cards so close to its chest that its tactics took even time by surprise when it finally revealed its cards. The cards revealed a story that was so vibrant that I had to ask myself whether these stories were real or imagined allegories.
These stories threatened to tear the gossamer-texture of the moment that I enjoyed. I did not want to bid farewell to the juncture to which time had brought me. Life had suddenly become so beautiful that I wanted time to pause at the beautiful juncture. The passage of time has always been a powerful blow to me. I was never in favour of giving time the independence to flow on its own, but time moves ahead without a leash. This has made my life a behemoth heading towards and end not known to anyone, no one knows the end.
The end of a journey is the most painful part of the journey. The journey may have been quite rewarding and pleasant, one may not be aware of the vast distance covered as the milestones fly by, but the end of the journey is what one mourns. I mourn even the end of the bus journey that I undertake everyday, let alone the journey of love, or the journey of life coupled with the myriad of problems that it presents everyday.
The problems that the journey of my life presents can always be resolved if I go back to the junction at which I loaded the train of my life with the problems. I wonder why I put on the extra-baggage of problems in the first place. Life was going on as well even at that time. Free from the realities of life that cloud the layman's life, I was quite happy and merry even without the extra-baggage. I have never been a proponent of showing off one's extra-luggage; I wish I could offload it at a junction. This is, of course, an idealized dream that can never come true. The wheel of time refuses to turn anti-clockwise. Time always flows ahead, and I must flow with it.
It would therefore be more logical to devise methods to neutralize the attacks of my fate. I can always harden my palms against blistering as a field-labourer hardens his palms by continuous labour. I can always do my best from committing the same mistake again, although the stand between my fate and myself is stalemated to my fate's advantage: my fate can play the cards that it chooses to, and I can do essentially nothing in response. I have to abide by the rules of the game. I have to be a mute spectator as time flows ahead. I must do something to protect myself; I need a shield against the random attacks of fate.
Fate introduced me to such dire straits that I now feel the need of a shield. Had my destiny not introduced me to the beautiful enigma a I have seen in the past few days, I would not have felt the need of a shield. My fate wanted me to wish for the shield. The cards that fate deals to us from time to time are dealt after a lot of calculations, additions, and subtractions. I ought to honour the dictates of my fate and time. Fate introduces us to adversities in life with a definite purpose in mind. A shield would have been superfluous in my life till now; the cards that my fate dealt before me till now emphasised the superficiality of the shield, but the cards that fate has dealt now sing a different tune: I need a shield.
There was a time when I could bear the torments of fate with considerable ease, I went through the ordeal without any grudge, fate wasn't as cruel at that time. Then things began to change, fate began hurling hail-stones at me, and my life took an ugly turn. These aspects of my life have now been brushed under the carpet by the flow of time; a large part of my life has been blipped out for the sake of sanity of my mind, although several portions of my past still remain intact in my memory. My life has been through and will undergo so many ups and downs that I feel that I have lost interest in life. The wobbly path that my life has been trekking along has been quite uncomfortable; it has certainly initiated a lot of changes in my life. However, the different stages that my life has been through has left me without any wishes. There doesn't seem to be anything worthwhile to ask for after every namaz that I offer. All this emerges despite the realization that the entire show was stage-managed by my fate; I merely played my role of a faithful protagonist. I was sensitized by my fate to see through what was an orchestrated drama, the results of which had been decided even before I was born. My fate held its cards so close to its chest that its tactics took even time by surprise when it finally revealed its cards. The cards revealed a story that was so vibrant that I had to ask myself whether these stories were real or imagined allegories.
These stories threatened to tear the gossamer-texture of the moment that I enjoyed. I did not want to bid farewell to the juncture to which time had brought me. Life had suddenly become so beautiful that I wanted time to pause at the beautiful juncture. The passage of time has always been a powerful blow to me. I was never in favour of giving time the independence to flow on its own, but time moves ahead without a leash. This has made my life a behemoth heading towards and end not known to anyone, no one knows the end.
The end of a journey is the most painful part of the journey. The journey may have been quite rewarding and pleasant, one may not be aware of the vast distance covered as the milestones fly by, but the end of the journey is what one mourns. I mourn even the end of the bus journey that I undertake everyday, let alone the journey of love, or the journey of life coupled with the myriad of problems that it presents everyday.
The problems that the journey of my life presents can always be resolved if I go back to the junction at which I loaded the train of my life with the problems. I wonder why I put on the extra-baggage of problems in the first place. Life was going on as well even at that time. Free from the realities of life that cloud the layman's life, I was quite happy and merry even without the extra-baggage. I have never been a proponent of showing off one's extra-luggage; I wish I could offload it at a junction. This is, of course, an idealized dream that can never come true. The wheel of time refuses to turn anti-clockwise. Time always flows ahead, and I must flow with it.
It would therefore be more logical to devise methods to neutralize the attacks of my fate. I can always harden my palms against blistering as a field-labourer hardens his palms by continuous labour. I can always do my best from committing the same mistake again, although the stand between my fate and myself is stalemated to my fate's advantage: my fate can play the cards that it chooses to, and I can do essentially nothing in response. I have to abide by the rules of the game. I have to be a mute spectator as time flows ahead. I must do something to protect myself; I need a shield against the random attacks of fate.
Fate introduced me to such dire straits that I now feel the need of a shield. Had my destiny not introduced me to the beautiful enigma a I have seen in the past few days, I would not have felt the need of a shield. My fate wanted me to wish for the shield. The cards that fate deals to us from time to time are dealt after a lot of calculations, additions, and subtractions. I ought to honour the dictates of my fate and time. Fate introduces us to adversities in life with a definite purpose in mind. A shield would have been superfluous in my life till now; the cards that my fate dealt before me till now emphasised the superficiality of the shield, but the cards that fate has dealt now sing a different tune: I need a shield.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
THE BEST DAYS
THE BEST DAYS
I enjoy an utter carefree state of affairs these days. I seem to have absolutely no responsibilities to burden me. This reminds me of the days when I was a student in Aligarh. The bandwagon of my life was as devoid of any responsibilities as it is now. There certainly was the encumbrance of my academic pursuits those days, I was constantly reminded by my conscience that I have to study, the key to success in life were apparently my books. Only time will tell if my presumption was correct, for I now realise that books are not the only way to success in life.
Life has transformed at several fronts since I left the hostel, many things have changed. My past is almost a dream now; the dream would continue to corral behind me for a long time to come. In a way, life has come a full circle back to the days when I was a student. The difference is that I did have to worry about doing well in the exams at that time, but now I don't have to worry about a single entity in the universe. The books that burdened me with their weight are now gone. I no longer have to worry about doing well in the exams; I don't have to give any. The examinations that I am subjected to now are of a different nature. The best thing is that I don’t have to worry a lot about my performance in the exams now. The results of the exam are pre-determined; everything that is happening or the things that are to happen in my life are a part of a pre-meditated plot. I don’t have to worry about the end result. The results would usher in a lot of changes in my life. The changes would only be a part of the plethora of changes that brought me to the present from the time when I was a student. Several things have changed in my life since I bid adieu to my life as a student.
Life as a student was probably the best part of my life. Things were easy, life was easy. Life did not present itself in as intricate a form as it did in the past few months. Life has not been easy, it never will be. Despite all this, I feel that every event in one's life ought to be celebrated with equal vigour and warmth. Even the tension and turmoil that my life underwent in the past few months would be celebrated. As the bitter part of my life is now behind me, I rejoice and celebrate. The celebration should match that of my student-life.
My student-life was probably the best part of my life. The most beautiful part of my student-life was the time when I fell in love. The infatuation was the greatest part of my life. Life became as colourful as a rainbow. Life gave me another chance to fall in love again a few days back and I now realise that I am better off with the beautiful enigma behind me. I cannot help smile at the myriad of things that could not happen, but I also smile at the dozens of dreams that I saw when I was in love. I don't know if I ought to thank my stars or curse them for the dreams that could not come true. It is bad when one's fate outruns time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if the duo of fate and time had reached the finishing-line together. Anyway, the discrepancies between the two have left behind some beautiful memories. The memories of the episode are bound to linger about for a long time to come. They shall remind me that my life has not always been as dry and serene. The episode was probably the last in my life. I'm glad that I've preserved in the form of words for Zeenat and the generations to come. I'm sure that Zeenat would appreciate my efforts at preserving some beautiful moments of my life.
Life is such an intricate web of events that the contrast provided by the four worded entity , 'love', is beautiful in itself. Being in love ennobles you. It makes life beautiful. Love is the most beautiful thing that can happen to anyone; everyone falls in love, the rest of the love-story is written by destiny. The episode was a landmark in my existence: not everyone gets a chance to script a utopian end, not everyone ends up as happy and satisfied like me despite the anti-climax that The Creator has scripted for me. The episode was certainly my life's golden period.
The golden period in my life came to an end in a subtle manner. Each drop of deluge of sorrow flowed through my heart when my dreams crashed. I wonder if I ought to be grateful for the end. The end that life has presented before me has made my life all the more beautiful: I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. I sometimes shudder at the thought of the responsibilities that I would have had to bear had the episode concluded as I wanted it to. I am grateful that the episode did not end in my favour. I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. Of course, there are other things that are as important and more important than love, but these things never appealed to me as attractive. Worldly matters like money never attracted me with their lustre. I'm not sure how long this period of my life would last. This will come to an end soon, I don't look forward to the end, but I'll surely miss these carefree days all my life, they are certainly the best days of my life.
I enjoy an utter carefree state of affairs these days. I seem to have absolutely no responsibilities to burden me. This reminds me of the days when I was a student in Aligarh. The bandwagon of my life was as devoid of any responsibilities as it is now. There certainly was the encumbrance of my academic pursuits those days, I was constantly reminded by my conscience that I have to study, the key to success in life were apparently my books. Only time will tell if my presumption was correct, for I now realise that books are not the only way to success in life.
Life has transformed at several fronts since I left the hostel, many things have changed. My past is almost a dream now; the dream would continue to corral behind me for a long time to come. In a way, life has come a full circle back to the days when I was a student. The difference is that I did have to worry about doing well in the exams at that time, but now I don't have to worry about a single entity in the universe. The books that burdened me with their weight are now gone. I no longer have to worry about doing well in the exams; I don't have to give any. The examinations that I am subjected to now are of a different nature. The best thing is that I don’t have to worry a lot about my performance in the exams now. The results of the exam are pre-determined; everything that is happening or the things that are to happen in my life are a part of a pre-meditated plot. I don’t have to worry about the end result. The results would usher in a lot of changes in my life. The changes would only be a part of the plethora of changes that brought me to the present from the time when I was a student. Several things have changed in my life since I bid adieu to my life as a student.
Life as a student was probably the best part of my life. Things were easy, life was easy. Life did not present itself in as intricate a form as it did in the past few months. Life has not been easy, it never will be. Despite all this, I feel that every event in one's life ought to be celebrated with equal vigour and warmth. Even the tension and turmoil that my life underwent in the past few months would be celebrated. As the bitter part of my life is now behind me, I rejoice and celebrate. The celebration should match that of my student-life.
My student-life was probably the best part of my life. The most beautiful part of my student-life was the time when I fell in love. The infatuation was the greatest part of my life. Life became as colourful as a rainbow. Life gave me another chance to fall in love again a few days back and I now realise that I am better off with the beautiful enigma behind me. I cannot help smile at the myriad of things that could not happen, but I also smile at the dozens of dreams that I saw when I was in love. I don't know if I ought to thank my stars or curse them for the dreams that could not come true. It is bad when one's fate outruns time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if the duo of fate and time had reached the finishing-line together. Anyway, the discrepancies between the two have left behind some beautiful memories. The memories of the episode are bound to linger about for a long time to come. They shall remind me that my life has not always been as dry and serene. The episode was probably the last in my life. I'm glad that I've preserved in the form of words for Zeenat and the generations to come. I'm sure that Zeenat would appreciate my efforts at preserving some beautiful moments of my life.
Life is such an intricate web of events that the contrast provided by the four worded entity , 'love', is beautiful in itself. Being in love ennobles you. It makes life beautiful. Love is the most beautiful thing that can happen to anyone; everyone falls in love, the rest of the love-story is written by destiny. The episode was a landmark in my existence: not everyone gets a chance to script a utopian end, not everyone ends up as happy and satisfied like me despite the anti-climax that The Creator has scripted for me. The episode was certainly my life's golden period.
The golden period in my life came to an end in a subtle manner. Each drop of deluge of sorrow flowed through my heart when my dreams crashed. I wonder if I ought to be grateful for the end. The end that life has presented before me has made my life all the more beautiful: I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. I sometimes shudder at the thought of the responsibilities that I would have had to bear had the episode concluded as I wanted it to. I am grateful that the episode did not end in my favour. I don't have to shoulder any responsibilities. Of course, there are other things that are as important and more important than love, but these things never appealed to me as attractive. Worldly matters like money never attracted me with their lustre. I'm not sure how long this period of my life would last. This will come to an end soon, I don't look forward to the end, but I'll surely miss these carefree days all my life, they are certainly the best days of my life.
Friday, April 3, 2009
THE MILESTONES
THE MILESTONES
I've decided to replace my goal with milestones. There are several milestones along the way to the goal. Crossing frontiers seems to be easier as compared to the apparent distant destination. Crossing of each milestone would be celebrated in my life. Each milestone crossed would mark a victory. This is like celebrating one's birthday every year: each birthday marks a milestone in one's life. The road to the goal in my life is punctuated by several milestones.
The milestones in my life seem to be separated by quite a vast distance. The distance could be compared to the echelons of time separating the developments on the history of human evolution. The conquest of each milestone in my life has resonated with a different frequency because they were separated by such a vast distance. Crossing of each milestone has not been easy, but every milestone crossed has been an achievement in itself. The crossing of each milestone has been celebrated in my life.
My life has been driven about quite recklessly by the despotic hands of fate and time: everyone has to make a compromise between fate and time, and so have I. It is bad when one's fate runs away with time, it is worse when one's fate outgrows time. There ought to be a balance between the two. My life seems to be tilted towards the negative side of the balance. Fate has certainly done its best to punctuate the track of my life with countless obstacles. There seem to be a lot of obstacles along the way to the goal: there are a lot of milestones along the way. The journey of my life seems to have a lot of halts en route the destination. I sometimes wonder if I ought to rejoice at the contrast that I find between my life and others' lives. Others seem to have reached their goals with considerable ease. I seem to be the only one who has been lingering about milestones for quite some time. The only consolation is that this might be the definition of beauty in my life.
My life has been an eclectic collection of failures. I seem to have had the honour of embracing failures at every step. Life has brought me before so many failures that I sometimes fear losing all hope. It is a sin, the greatest crime you can offer to The Power that created us to cast away hope, I know. Life has not been so bad after all. I remind myself of the myriad of opportunities of happiness and success that fate has been kind enough to put into my kitty. There have always been moments of joy in my life that have been celebrated. With the passage of time, even our failures, the sadder moments of our lives, find their way into the thesaurus of celebration. I now realise that what was an apparent failure at a point in time in my history, was a blessing in disguise. In this way, almost every event in my life has given way to celebration. The passage of time has worked miracles on what appeared to be failures. These failures have manifested themselves as milestones along the way to the destination. The failures seemed to be fatal wounds to me at one point of time, but time heals all wounds, things don't seem to be as bad once time applies its balm over the wounds. Things change, and with this, changes the definition of the bitter past.
My past is almost a dream now. Like all dreams, it too shall eventually fade into obscurity with the passage of time. Although my past is bound to haunt me for a long time to come, I now have an opportunity to laugh at the hundreds of things that could have happened, and even at the assortment of things that could not happen. My past would be an asylum that I can resort to whenever I feel intimidated by the present. This would be escaping from the realities that life presents before me, I know, but the shelter would have to be sought for whenever I am not particularly thrilled by the sky and the sun.
The sun has been shining so fiercely on my that I desperately need a shelter. I want to escape the sweltering heat of the sun, I want to get away from the hot and humid weather that would be the order of the day in a few months. I have a long way to go, my goal is quite far off, the weather is not going to be pleasant, but I will take life piecemeal now: I've replaced my goal with milestones.
I've decided to replace my goal with milestones. There are several milestones along the way to the goal. Crossing frontiers seems to be easier as compared to the apparent distant destination. Crossing of each milestone would be celebrated in my life. Each milestone crossed would mark a victory. This is like celebrating one's birthday every year: each birthday marks a milestone in one's life. The road to the goal in my life is punctuated by several milestones.
The milestones in my life seem to be separated by quite a vast distance. The distance could be compared to the echelons of time separating the developments on the history of human evolution. The conquest of each milestone in my life has resonated with a different frequency because they were separated by such a vast distance. Crossing of each milestone has not been easy, but every milestone crossed has been an achievement in itself. The crossing of each milestone has been celebrated in my life.
My life has been driven about quite recklessly by the despotic hands of fate and time: everyone has to make a compromise between fate and time, and so have I. It is bad when one's fate runs away with time, it is worse when one's fate outgrows time. There ought to be a balance between the two. My life seems to be tilted towards the negative side of the balance. Fate has certainly done its best to punctuate the track of my life with countless obstacles. There seem to be a lot of obstacles along the way to the goal: there are a lot of milestones along the way. The journey of my life seems to have a lot of halts en route the destination. I sometimes wonder if I ought to rejoice at the contrast that I find between my life and others' lives. Others seem to have reached their goals with considerable ease. I seem to be the only one who has been lingering about milestones for quite some time. The only consolation is that this might be the definition of beauty in my life.
My life has been an eclectic collection of failures. I seem to have had the honour of embracing failures at every step. Life has brought me before so many failures that I sometimes fear losing all hope. It is a sin, the greatest crime you can offer to The Power that created us to cast away hope, I know. Life has not been so bad after all. I remind myself of the myriad of opportunities of happiness and success that fate has been kind enough to put into my kitty. There have always been moments of joy in my life that have been celebrated. With the passage of time, even our failures, the sadder moments of our lives, find their way into the thesaurus of celebration. I now realise that what was an apparent failure at a point in time in my history, was a blessing in disguise. In this way, almost every event in my life has given way to celebration. The passage of time has worked miracles on what appeared to be failures. These failures have manifested themselves as milestones along the way to the destination. The failures seemed to be fatal wounds to me at one point of time, but time heals all wounds, things don't seem to be as bad once time applies its balm over the wounds. Things change, and with this, changes the definition of the bitter past.
My past is almost a dream now. Like all dreams, it too shall eventually fade into obscurity with the passage of time. Although my past is bound to haunt me for a long time to come, I now have an opportunity to laugh at the hundreds of things that could have happened, and even at the assortment of things that could not happen. My past would be an asylum that I can resort to whenever I feel intimidated by the present. This would be escaping from the realities that life presents before me, I know, but the shelter would have to be sought for whenever I am not particularly thrilled by the sky and the sun.
The sun has been shining so fiercely on my that I desperately need a shelter. I want to escape the sweltering heat of the sun, I want to get away from the hot and humid weather that would be the order of the day in a few months. I have a long way to go, my goal is quite far off, the weather is not going to be pleasant, but I will take life piecemeal now: I've replaced my goal with milestones.
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