a Wednesday! I had been seeing the promos of it on the television of late. Actors like Nasiruddin Shah and Anupam Kher performing in a same movie and that too, in a movie like this which is based upon the fanatical terrorism in today's India and the narrow and despicable concept of communalism which is given as the reason for this so called "religious war" by those radicals was something I was looking forward to. And then, I saw "a Wednesday".
Shah is shown as a common man. A common man for whom democracy works, industry develops, grains are produced, trains and buses are run. He lives in today's India where a blast in a railway compartment in which he travels daily is not uncommon. He lives in a country where riots blow out of some petty reasons and the rivers of blood flow. He lives in a country where the Khans rule the Bollywood yet the Muslims are regarded as a minority. He lives in a country where media tries to entertain people rather than to educate them. He fears to grow beard or wear a cap as ordered to any disciple of his religion because that very beard can turn a needle of suspicion towards him. He fears death. He sees the law & order of his city as well as the whole country in jeopardy. He hates the system where authority does not have the will and the will does not have the authority. He decides to create his own path. He decides to build a parallel system which functions much quicker than the existent and accepted one.
Kher, on the other hand, plays the police commissioner of Mumbai. He is well aware about the discrimination against the innocent Muslims as well as the humiliation they have to undergo in the society for no fault of theirs. He has the ability to inspire his juniors to function their duties with utmost passion. He, himself, is an avid observer of the society. He sportingly accepts the hard fact a college dropout brings to his attention that most of the machines and gadgets that the cyber cell unit uses to crack cyber crimes are outdated. He lives in a real world. He lives in a partisan world where he has to deal with the issues like majority/minority, jihad/bandh on a daily basis. Kher gets a call on a wednesday from an unknown person who tells him that he is going to bomb the city with 5 bombs planted in a city at different places. He has the will and force but lacks in authority. The weak-kneed chief minister prefers to stand muted in a corner and look on as he handles whole and sole authority to bargain and to compromise with the bomber to Kher. The commissioner is put in awe by that unknown, unseen common man who talks to him with so much conviction, desperation and a definite but shocking idealism in order to secure a peaceful future for our coming generations. He travels all the way alone just to catch a glimpse of that rebellion who has had the guts to walk in the lives of all the city-dwellers and to blow it apart. He decides to let go the common man. He thinks such "common men" are required.
This is not a conflict between majority and minority. This is not a fight between law & order and terror. This is not even a mutiny of people against the government. This is a fight put up by a common man, like you and I, against those cowards who, by the name of religion, weaken the bondages in people and bring about blasts and riots which take hundreds and thousands of innocent lives. This is something what happens when a comman man like you and I, lose prolonged patience. The message is clear: a parallel can always be drawn.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Black or White?
Black and white. Or is it black or white? They share a strange relationship. These two quantities have greater attraction for each other than any other known pair, viz., male and female, north pole and south pole of a magnet, fish and water and so on! The black gets ultimately mixed with the white. Dandruff in black hair is not black but white, eyeballs in white eyes are black and not white, a black chalk is never produced to write on a blackboard or a black rain is never heard of falling from the dark clouds.
But, at the same time, a blackie is always discriminated within a clan of whites, a black suit or a black saree is preferred at the ceremonies than their white counterparts. Hindus and Muslims relate white to mourning while for Christians, it's the black. A student reads "failed" remark in a black on a white and is devastated while a farmer becomes suicidal when he sees white clouds in the sky even after two years of drought.
However, i think that, humans generally tend to exhibit a great bias towards black. Any wrongdoing, any bad thought or action is related to black while white escapes unscratched. Gangsters and Mafias are always shown putting on black robes in movies as if clothes of any other colour aren't available in market. Lawyers are said to be liars wearing a black coat but, one fails to see that within that black coat there is always a white shirt. Politicians are said to live with a sole purpose of earning black money but, one fails to see that they do it wearing white clothes. Not many painters tend to paint a human figure with a black. I often wonder about a black ribbon getting used to blindfold a person in kidnap scenes in the movies whereas, the director can make do with a ribbon of any other colour. On some unwritten terms, black is termed bad. Black is dark. Dark is feared. Fear lives within us.
Though white is the ultimate source of light, represents peace and harmony and is related to cleanliness and sanity; black has its own shine. No other colour represents richness and royalness as good as black does. A white mercedes benz fails to arrest the onlooker's eyes but a black one is a sure eye-catcher. A black jeans is something every individual thinks a must to have in his/her wardrobe, for it can get matched-up with any coloured shirt. The wheel, no matter to which vehicle it's attached to and which symbolizes speed and change is always black in colour. Black has its own unmatched importance. Black is a rock which represents might. Black is a soil which represents fertility. Black is something corporate, black is something disciplinary.
The world is full of colours. All those institute to draw a picture of the world we live in, to make it more beautiful for us. But, we should not forget that every picture lies within a border. And, that border, is often BLACK.
But, at the same time, a blackie is always discriminated within a clan of whites, a black suit or a black saree is preferred at the ceremonies than their white counterparts. Hindus and Muslims relate white to mourning while for Christians, it's the black. A student reads "failed" remark in a black on a white and is devastated while a farmer becomes suicidal when he sees white clouds in the sky even after two years of drought.
However, i think that, humans generally tend to exhibit a great bias towards black. Any wrongdoing, any bad thought or action is related to black while white escapes unscratched. Gangsters and Mafias are always shown putting on black robes in movies as if clothes of any other colour aren't available in market. Lawyers are said to be liars wearing a black coat but, one fails to see that within that black coat there is always a white shirt. Politicians are said to live with a sole purpose of earning black money but, one fails to see that they do it wearing white clothes. Not many painters tend to paint a human figure with a black. I often wonder about a black ribbon getting used to blindfold a person in kidnap scenes in the movies whereas, the director can make do with a ribbon of any other colour. On some unwritten terms, black is termed bad. Black is dark. Dark is feared. Fear lives within us.
Though white is the ultimate source of light, represents peace and harmony and is related to cleanliness and sanity; black has its own shine. No other colour represents richness and royalness as good as black does. A white mercedes benz fails to arrest the onlooker's eyes but a black one is a sure eye-catcher. A black jeans is something every individual thinks a must to have in his/her wardrobe, for it can get matched-up with any coloured shirt. The wheel, no matter to which vehicle it's attached to and which symbolizes speed and change is always black in colour. Black has its own unmatched importance. Black is a rock which represents might. Black is a soil which represents fertility. Black is something corporate, black is something disciplinary.
The world is full of colours. All those institute to draw a picture of the world we live in, to make it more beautiful for us. But, we should not forget that every picture lies within a border. And, that border, is often BLACK.
Friday, August 29, 2008
I miss you....
Wednesday, 27th August was the birth centenary of Sir Don Bradman. Mother Teressa was also born on the same day. It is, incidentally, also my grandfather's birthday. But, the only difference this year was that HE was not between us so that we could wish him. He left us alone forever on 29th December, 2007. He would have turned 79 this year. But it was not destined to be.
He was the reason to live for my granny. He was the north star for my dad. He was an advicer for my mom. And, moreover, he was the lighthouse for all of us; including me, my cousins and whoever got blessed by his company. He always talked to the point. He always talked with affection. He did everything with conviction. His smile made others feel assured. He got along well with everyone. He despised noone. He followed the "mind over matter" principle. His intelligence was exceptional. His memory never betrayed him. Punctuality so much flowed in his blood that one could set one's watch when he had his meals (11.30am and 7.30 pm), when he took his 2 cups of tea in a day (6.30am and 3pm) and when he slept (10pm). He never had the need to ask for a favour from anyone. Yet, everyone wished to be of some use to him. He had the magnetism. Yet, he was human. He proved it when he closed his eyes forever on that 29th afternoon.
For me, he was beyond describing in words. He was more than a friend to me. Not many are blessed with such a cool grandfather. I still remember those chess games we used to play. I remember all those cricket matches we saw together. I cherish all those times when we used to discuss politics. Having served on a high designation in public administrative department, he had vast knowledge and innumerable scoops to tell me from his years in his office. He always mediated whenever me and my dad had a skirmish, and often from my side. I appreciated the great love he felt for my granny. I still have his SMSs in my inbox asking me whether I had eaten something whenever I was out of the home for a long time. I remember his face getting all glowed up when I had told him that I would like to join the public services one day. He wanted to see me entering the public services like him one day. He inspired me. He encouraged me. He told me never to lose hope. He made me believe in myself, once again. But, I think, that only was what he had decided to do. By leaving my hand mid-way, he indicated to me that "some roads are better carved than followed". My tears that day promised him that one such road would be carved.
Today, he is physically not between us. But his thoughts, his acheivements, the dreams he imbibed in us regarding our future continue to live with us along with his fond, loving memories. I just want to tell you ajoba that I miss you.... I'm sure you must be happy and making others happy too wherever you are and whoever you are with!!! Long live your great soul!
He was the reason to live for my granny. He was the north star for my dad. He was an advicer for my mom. And, moreover, he was the lighthouse for all of us; including me, my cousins and whoever got blessed by his company. He always talked to the point. He always talked with affection. He did everything with conviction. His smile made others feel assured. He got along well with everyone. He despised noone. He followed the "mind over matter" principle. His intelligence was exceptional. His memory never betrayed him. Punctuality so much flowed in his blood that one could set one's watch when he had his meals (11.30am and 7.30 pm), when he took his 2 cups of tea in a day (6.30am and 3pm) and when he slept (10pm). He never had the need to ask for a favour from anyone. Yet, everyone wished to be of some use to him. He had the magnetism. Yet, he was human. He proved it when he closed his eyes forever on that 29th afternoon.
For me, he was beyond describing in words. He was more than a friend to me. Not many are blessed with such a cool grandfather. I still remember those chess games we used to play. I remember all those cricket matches we saw together. I cherish all those times when we used to discuss politics. Having served on a high designation in public administrative department, he had vast knowledge and innumerable scoops to tell me from his years in his office. He always mediated whenever me and my dad had a skirmish, and often from my side. I appreciated the great love he felt for my granny. I still have his SMSs in my inbox asking me whether I had eaten something whenever I was out of the home for a long time. I remember his face getting all glowed up when I had told him that I would like to join the public services one day. He wanted to see me entering the public services like him one day. He inspired me. He encouraged me. He told me never to lose hope. He made me believe in myself, once again. But, I think, that only was what he had decided to do. By leaving my hand mid-way, he indicated to me that "some roads are better carved than followed". My tears that day promised him that one such road would be carved.
Today, he is physically not between us. But his thoughts, his acheivements, the dreams he imbibed in us regarding our future continue to live with us along with his fond, loving memories. I just want to tell you ajoba that I miss you.... I'm sure you must be happy and making others happy too wherever you are and whoever you are with!!! Long live your great soul!
Friday, August 8, 2008
The God, The tiger & The Wall
There is a country called India. Its people are religious. Its people are devout. Its people believe more in the blessings of God than in their own hardwork. Then there is the tiger. It's India's national animal. It is widely appreciated by the Indians for its wildness, the fright it produces in the minds of other animals, its kingness. Indians are day-dreamers. They dream of possessing all these qualities which they lack. And, of course, Indians tend to live safe. Purchasing life insurance policies, job security always seem to be placed as higher priorities in any Indian's life. So, a safe home is always aspired for to leave a peaceful life. Every wall of it is supervised to have been well built. And, Indians have one passion. Cricket. It's breathed in India. It's lived in India. It's a religion which decides Gods in this country. It's wild which gives birth to the tigers in this country. And it's watched in every home in India, thereby, becoming as common as a wall of any home in India.
A comment like "I still see Sachin(the God) in my dreams hitting sixes off my bowling all over the park" hasn't come since it was last made some 10 years ago.
Ganguly(the Tiger) couldn't repeat a confident and exuberent celebration like the one he did after the famous Natwest Series win.
Rahul(the Wall) has ceased to produce all those frequent hundreds he once did.
So, is it the beginning of an end? Is Pepsi going to endorse itself only with Youngistan? Is a generation change in store regarding Indian cricket? Well, YES!
"The God", himself, seems to have got finally bored of being godly after so many years. He still has the sanctity, the halo, the grandeur; but he can't bless his devotees with all of their wishes anymore. His "index finger" pains after showing the virtue of righeousness for all these years. He stands with a sore "elbow" after having bent it in a right-angle to show the blessed palm to all his devotees. His "ankle" and "back" grumble as he has stood upright for so many years without any rest. He blesses his devotees even now, but when HE wants. The god has become a "godman". The godman succeeds to do a "miracle" sometimes; but the devotees have started to become agnostic now. They have started to panic as they need "a god" to worship and not a godman for, they have enough of them. The search for an another god starts. We witness "the fall of the god" in meantime...
"The Tiger"; always walks in his own majestic gait, pounces upon the other animals to kill them and rules the forest. But as years pass, tiger becomes old. His claws aren't sharp anymore. His eyesight turns dim. He is the laziest of the clan from the start but his accurate "timing" and "placement" which help him in praying all these years, also become flawed. But, as they say "a tiger born is a tiger dead"! Our tiger refuses to be called "an old tiger". For him, he is "a tiger". Just, "a tiger". But, the whole forest thinks of this belief of his as a sheer madness. At that very moment, the jungle starts to rule the tiger, and not the vice-versa.
A brick is used when "the home" is constructed. The brick is nothing special. But it has the will, the determination, the tenacity. It chooses by itself, to be in the foundation of "the home", to help it maintain its erectness, with whatever severity the culamities may come then. And it does its job till it is called "the wall". The wall is said to be without a chink or a crack. The wall is painted. The wall is decorated. Suddenly, on some rainy day, the wall gives in. The wall has a leakage. Despite many tries to fix it, the leakage spreads. A practical decision to renovate "the home" is thought over. The wall has to be demolished for that.
"Team India" plays a match somewhere in the world. Back in India, schools, colleges, offices are bunked citing false reasons. Sports bars get jam-packed. Beer flows like river-water while dreaming an Indian victory. The TV showrooms turn their TV sets to the channel broadcasting the cricket match, so that the crowd gathered outside in large numbers can see it. The nation comes to a standstill. It wants India to win. The hopes of billions converge only upon eleven of them. And, especially upon, "the god", "the tiger" and "the wall" for, they know that these three "alone" can do it for India. Alas! The three fail. The country loses. Billions get upset.
On the sidelines of such gradually increasing losses, an ilk of cricketers emerges. These cricketers are a fresh lot of fearless, daredevil youngsters. In the era when everything comes with an expiry date, it's just a matter of time before people start to idolize one of them as "the god", an another as "the tiger", some other as "the wall".
It's high time our old heroes smell it before it actually burns. It's upto them whether to live forever in billions of hearts or to cause a billion heart-transplants now. Meanwhile, let's hope that miracles happen, the claws get sharpened and the leakage gets fixed, though for a while.
A comment like "I still see Sachin(the God) in my dreams hitting sixes off my bowling all over the park" hasn't come since it was last made some 10 years ago.
Ganguly(the Tiger) couldn't repeat a confident and exuberent celebration like the one he did after the famous Natwest Series win.
Rahul(the Wall) has ceased to produce all those frequent hundreds he once did.
So, is it the beginning of an end? Is Pepsi going to endorse itself only with Youngistan? Is a generation change in store regarding Indian cricket? Well, YES!
"The God", himself, seems to have got finally bored of being godly after so many years. He still has the sanctity, the halo, the grandeur; but he can't bless his devotees with all of their wishes anymore. His "index finger" pains after showing the virtue of righeousness for all these years. He stands with a sore "elbow" after having bent it in a right-angle to show the blessed palm to all his devotees. His "ankle" and "back" grumble as he has stood upright for so many years without any rest. He blesses his devotees even now, but when HE wants. The god has become a "godman". The godman succeeds to do a "miracle" sometimes; but the devotees have started to become agnostic now. They have started to panic as they need "a god" to worship and not a godman for, they have enough of them. The search for an another god starts. We witness "the fall of the god" in meantime...
"The Tiger"; always walks in his own majestic gait, pounces upon the other animals to kill them and rules the forest. But as years pass, tiger becomes old. His claws aren't sharp anymore. His eyesight turns dim. He is the laziest of the clan from the start but his accurate "timing" and "placement" which help him in praying all these years, also become flawed. But, as they say "a tiger born is a tiger dead"! Our tiger refuses to be called "an old tiger". For him, he is "a tiger". Just, "a tiger". But, the whole forest thinks of this belief of his as a sheer madness. At that very moment, the jungle starts to rule the tiger, and not the vice-versa.
A brick is used when "the home" is constructed. The brick is nothing special. But it has the will, the determination, the tenacity. It chooses by itself, to be in the foundation of "the home", to help it maintain its erectness, with whatever severity the culamities may come then. And it does its job till it is called "the wall". The wall is said to be without a chink or a crack. The wall is painted. The wall is decorated. Suddenly, on some rainy day, the wall gives in. The wall has a leakage. Despite many tries to fix it, the leakage spreads. A practical decision to renovate "the home" is thought over. The wall has to be demolished for that.
"Team India" plays a match somewhere in the world. Back in India, schools, colleges, offices are bunked citing false reasons. Sports bars get jam-packed. Beer flows like river-water while dreaming an Indian victory. The TV showrooms turn their TV sets to the channel broadcasting the cricket match, so that the crowd gathered outside in large numbers can see it. The nation comes to a standstill. It wants India to win. The hopes of billions converge only upon eleven of them. And, especially upon, "the god", "the tiger" and "the wall" for, they know that these three "alone" can do it for India. Alas! The three fail. The country loses. Billions get upset.
On the sidelines of such gradually increasing losses, an ilk of cricketers emerges. These cricketers are a fresh lot of fearless, daredevil youngsters. In the era when everything comes with an expiry date, it's just a matter of time before people start to idolize one of them as "the god", an another as "the tiger", some other as "the wall".
It's high time our old heroes smell it before it actually burns. It's upto them whether to live forever in billions of hearts or to cause a billion heart-transplants now. Meanwhile, let's hope that miracles happen, the claws get sharpened and the leakage gets fixed, though for a while.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Goodbye!
People walk into our lives... We allow some to penetrate the outer walls and let them come in our vicinity. We long for them. We are better off without some while we maintain cordial relations with many. We can't live without people. But we can certainly choose the ones whom to live with, whom to hang out with, whom to take advice from, whom to give respect to and whom to look upon in the crises.
Sometimes we err in judging the people. Our thoughts, actions, goals, means suddenly differ from the same people we were living with till the previous day. The need arises to distance ourselves from them. It's not about discarding them, it's about inventing ourselves anew. We feel this from time to time. Being together without the feeling of togetherness is the most isolated state for any individual. But we should optimally try to make this farewell bidding process mutually acceptable. We should try not to hurt people while we walk apart from them. We should make them feel special even at the time of distancifying ourselves from them as they were special for us somewhere in the walk of our lives... Their traces would be found on the shores of our life whenever we would look back. They had touched us somewhere; they had walked with us, disregarding the distance. Those moments deserve to be remembered at the time of goodbyes. A goodbye should be as open, clear and convincing as an introduction.
A goodbye is always a necessity in life. People part ways. Sometimes decidedly, sometimes destiny plays its part. Egos, priorities, hate, interests, betrayals, distance, saturation, boredom... so many reasons but just one conclusion, Goodbye! Some goodbyes are forever while some are momentary. Some are pragmatic, some conspiratory. If seen gramatically, these goodbyes are nothing but the punctuational fullstops given from time to time in order to keep the text of our life contextual. A fullstop always begins a new sentence. Same way, a new beginning always awaits after a goodbye; for all the goodbyees!
These goodbyes always cause transient grief and despondency. They impart a feeling of emptiness within oneself. One feels something amiss. One thinks of hanging out with a friend to whom one has said goodbye due to some reasons and feels awry. some other reminds him/herself of the lunch hour in which he/she used to share his/her tiffin with his/her jovial and helping colleagues in the company that person has just resigned from. But as the sorrow fades away with time, the rightness of the decision proves itself within their minds. They become more confident. "I can do it" and "I can make do without it, too" feeling gets birth in their minds. Sometimes they prove wrong too, but after all life is so short and there are so many decisions to make! To foresee the sequences and practicality may help than sentiments and emotions while deciding to say a goodbye! But one should take entire responsibility after one bids a goodbye to someone; irrelavent of its consequences.
Nothing is more pleasant than a mutually-accepted goodbye for, to show the weaknesses or flaws or hollowness in a relation to the one/ones on the other side and to prove it justifiable to draw an end to a relation is something one should assign oneself to do while saying a goodbye. A warm and friendly goodbye always lives in our memory, reminds us of the one/ones we had/had to said goodbyes to with almost regret. A good goodbye highlights a good relation. While goodbyes enforced by/upon us may leave grouses, grudges or ill-feelings in minds, reducing the sheer newness and freedom a goodbye offers. A goodbye, thus, be looked upon as a goodstart wish offered by the one who has said it. The mild moon says goodbye to the earth at the crack of every dawn, leaving her to live afresh in the sun's sharpness.
A goodbye is not the dead-end of the road, it's just the point from where our roads differ.
Sometimes we err in judging the people. Our thoughts, actions, goals, means suddenly differ from the same people we were living with till the previous day. The need arises to distance ourselves from them. It's not about discarding them, it's about inventing ourselves anew. We feel this from time to time. Being together without the feeling of togetherness is the most isolated state for any individual. But we should optimally try to make this farewell bidding process mutually acceptable. We should try not to hurt people while we walk apart from them. We should make them feel special even at the time of distancifying ourselves from them as they were special for us somewhere in the walk of our lives... Their traces would be found on the shores of our life whenever we would look back. They had touched us somewhere; they had walked with us, disregarding the distance. Those moments deserve to be remembered at the time of goodbyes. A goodbye should be as open, clear and convincing as an introduction.
A goodbye is always a necessity in life. People part ways. Sometimes decidedly, sometimes destiny plays its part. Egos, priorities, hate, interests, betrayals, distance, saturation, boredom... so many reasons but just one conclusion, Goodbye! Some goodbyes are forever while some are momentary. Some are pragmatic, some conspiratory. If seen gramatically, these goodbyes are nothing but the punctuational fullstops given from time to time in order to keep the text of our life contextual. A fullstop always begins a new sentence. Same way, a new beginning always awaits after a goodbye; for all the goodbyees!
These goodbyes always cause transient grief and despondency. They impart a feeling of emptiness within oneself. One feels something amiss. One thinks of hanging out with a friend to whom one has said goodbye due to some reasons and feels awry. some other reminds him/herself of the lunch hour in which he/she used to share his/her tiffin with his/her jovial and helping colleagues in the company that person has just resigned from. But as the sorrow fades away with time, the rightness of the decision proves itself within their minds. They become more confident. "I can do it" and "I can make do without it, too" feeling gets birth in their minds. Sometimes they prove wrong too, but after all life is so short and there are so many decisions to make! To foresee the sequences and practicality may help than sentiments and emotions while deciding to say a goodbye! But one should take entire responsibility after one bids a goodbye to someone; irrelavent of its consequences.
Nothing is more pleasant than a mutually-accepted goodbye for, to show the weaknesses or flaws or hollowness in a relation to the one/ones on the other side and to prove it justifiable to draw an end to a relation is something one should assign oneself to do while saying a goodbye. A warm and friendly goodbye always lives in our memory, reminds us of the one/ones we had/had to said goodbyes to with almost regret. A good goodbye highlights a good relation. While goodbyes enforced by/upon us may leave grouses, grudges or ill-feelings in minds, reducing the sheer newness and freedom a goodbye offers. A goodbye, thus, be looked upon as a goodstart wish offered by the one who has said it. The mild moon says goodbye to the earth at the crack of every dawn, leaving her to live afresh in the sun's sharpness.
A goodbye is not the dead-end of the road, it's just the point from where our roads differ.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Take it or mistake it...
I read a book some days back. It was called "3 mistakes of my life". Titles of some books or films like this give you the chance to ponder about your own life. They just catch your fancy of thoughts. They simply make you think. This title proved just one of those. It made me think; obviously about the mistakes I made. You must have made some too, or we'll someday but surely make them....mistakes!
Actually, what is right and what is wrong? Who draws a line between them? Are we compelled to walk along that line or can we get away by being on either side of it from time to time? Can a right for one be wrong for the other? Which mistakes can be forgiven and which not? Again, who decides and with what right to pardon or unpardon the mistakes? Can mistakes be repeated? Does anyone have his/her share or quota of mistakes that he/she can commit? Can a mischief be a mistake? Is a desperation or an momentary inclination a mistake? Are mistakes temporary or permanent? Or is a mistake nothing but a "missed take" of one by the others? Should one try to awaken one's conscience to avoid a mistake or should one confess before God with folded hands to have mercy? Again, does conscience indicate a mistake or is a mistake termed by its consequences? Is mistake a perception or a truth? If we label a mistake as a perception, it changes from person to person. If we take it as a truth, the truth LIES in a mistake.
We are taught many etiquette, principles, ethics, dogmas, rules to live in a society. We are made ascertained to show respect to all elders even if we don't like an uncle's nature or an aunt's pompous attitude. We have to visit many temples from early childhood in order to "get used to" the (spi)rituality. These rules and ethics are taught, demonstrated to us by all the revered elderly people, teachers, family members. These ethics are, hence, enforced upon us. We don't possess the right to choose, let alone invent the rules and etiquette that appeal to us, that we think we should follow. We can't do that, for all those have already been decided. The society has decided them. They aren't authorised, yet they are unpardonable.
Most follow. But some rebel. Hence, when an individual turns atheist in a pious family, he's termed as "a stain". He gets mediocre position in his family and community. For them, God is too acceptable to refuse. Nobody cares to see the other side of the coin. The atheist-turned son gets fed up listening to all the bhajans-keertans in his home from his early childhood. He sticks his favourite rocker's poster on his room's wall in a morning before going to college one day but finds it replaced by the God's portrait when he returns in the evening. His protest isn't even given any heed. He gets frustrated by watching aesthetic channels like astha and sanskar being run continuously on his home television. He gets nightmares of the sleepless nights he has had to suffer by thinking of the jaagrans his parents organise in favour of God in his own home by calling innumerable devotees; with music system playing devotional songs in ear-deafening voice at the peak of the night. He hates to eat God's blessed food such as laddoos and jalebis in his each meal. Eventually a day comes, when he starts hating God for refusing him his mental peace even at his home. He refuses the very concept of God. But, this refusal becomes his "mistake" in the eyes of his family and BANG! There WAS a son for them.....They are better as God's devotees than being their son's Gods.
Same is the case with an employee who refuses to give in to the unrightful demands or dominating nature of his/her employer. He/she does "a mistake" to raise a voice against the wrong behaviour of the employer eventually losing self-appointment. Even nations opposing unwanted influence of some hegemonic superpowers ask for either self-distruction or self-isolation these days. Consequences, indeed, decide a mistake. But then, mistakes await you either ways. Is giving in to the wrong demands of the employer a mistake for that employee or to be expelled for not giving-in? He/she fears of being termed as "an easy catch" for everyone if he/she gives in but he/she would rather go for it as he/she can't afford to lose the current job with moderate salary to feed his/her sizeable family. Ethics lose. Desperation wins. A mistake is committed.
Mistakes, as i define them, are those errors which happen due to imbalance or lapses in our conscience. Our conscience is our own property. Our mistake should be judged by none other than our conscience for, it only can give us the true reflection and interpretation of our mind and inner thoughts. It alone can decide the right and the wrong for us. Mistakes don't happen in a certain age nor do they stop occuring. A mistake may happen during a judgement, a desperation, a rage, a trauma or even in composure. But once a mistake is accepted by our conscience, we should acknowledge it as a fact. There is no need to atone or repent for an already committed mistake as not a single living creature escapes unscratched by these mistakes. Infact, these scratches should be seen in a mirror from time to time, contemplated over but should not be repeated. Avoiding a mistake to happen twice is the only way to correct it!
So, where was I? My mistakes... You should be waiting to read those as others' mistakes always make an interesting read. I may disappoint you at the end then. Was bunking the first lecture in my junior college days my mistake or disobeying my parents in my teens just as an adventure? Or was I wrong in choosing the stream of my education? Are all those cigarette buds and empty beer bottles a proof that I made a mistake? Oh, it seems my conscience had lost its balance for a long time. But it's surely awake now as I can't count anymore mistakes... a MISS has TAKEn over my heart now!!!! Statistically speaking, the frequent lapses in my conscience are gradually showing a decrease in numbers. Guys, believe me, this "misstake" is worth committing! The only disadvantage is that you err to spell the word: misstake. :)
Actually, what is right and what is wrong? Who draws a line between them? Are we compelled to walk along that line or can we get away by being on either side of it from time to time? Can a right for one be wrong for the other? Which mistakes can be forgiven and which not? Again, who decides and with what right to pardon or unpardon the mistakes? Can mistakes be repeated? Does anyone have his/her share or quota of mistakes that he/she can commit? Can a mischief be a mistake? Is a desperation or an momentary inclination a mistake? Are mistakes temporary or permanent? Or is a mistake nothing but a "missed take" of one by the others? Should one try to awaken one's conscience to avoid a mistake or should one confess before God with folded hands to have mercy? Again, does conscience indicate a mistake or is a mistake termed by its consequences? Is mistake a perception or a truth? If we label a mistake as a perception, it changes from person to person. If we take it as a truth, the truth LIES in a mistake.
We are taught many etiquette, principles, ethics, dogmas, rules to live in a society. We are made ascertained to show respect to all elders even if we don't like an uncle's nature or an aunt's pompous attitude. We have to visit many temples from early childhood in order to "get used to" the (spi)rituality. These rules and ethics are taught, demonstrated to us by all the revered elderly people, teachers, family members. These ethics are, hence, enforced upon us. We don't possess the right to choose, let alone invent the rules and etiquette that appeal to us, that we think we should follow. We can't do that, for all those have already been decided. The society has decided them. They aren't authorised, yet they are unpardonable.
Most follow. But some rebel. Hence, when an individual turns atheist in a pious family, he's termed as "a stain". He gets mediocre position in his family and community. For them, God is too acceptable to refuse. Nobody cares to see the other side of the coin. The atheist-turned son gets fed up listening to all the bhajans-keertans in his home from his early childhood. He sticks his favourite rocker's poster on his room's wall in a morning before going to college one day but finds it replaced by the God's portrait when he returns in the evening. His protest isn't even given any heed. He gets frustrated by watching aesthetic channels like astha and sanskar being run continuously on his home television. He gets nightmares of the sleepless nights he has had to suffer by thinking of the jaagrans his parents organise in favour of God in his own home by calling innumerable devotees; with music system playing devotional songs in ear-deafening voice at the peak of the night. He hates to eat God's blessed food such as laddoos and jalebis in his each meal. Eventually a day comes, when he starts hating God for refusing him his mental peace even at his home. He refuses the very concept of God. But, this refusal becomes his "mistake" in the eyes of his family and BANG! There WAS a son for them.....They are better as God's devotees than being their son's Gods.
Same is the case with an employee who refuses to give in to the unrightful demands or dominating nature of his/her employer. He/she does "a mistake" to raise a voice against the wrong behaviour of the employer eventually losing self-appointment. Even nations opposing unwanted influence of some hegemonic superpowers ask for either self-distruction or self-isolation these days. Consequences, indeed, decide a mistake. But then, mistakes await you either ways. Is giving in to the wrong demands of the employer a mistake for that employee or to be expelled for not giving-in? He/she fears of being termed as "an easy catch" for everyone if he/she gives in but he/she would rather go for it as he/she can't afford to lose the current job with moderate salary to feed his/her sizeable family. Ethics lose. Desperation wins. A mistake is committed.
Mistakes, as i define them, are those errors which happen due to imbalance or lapses in our conscience. Our conscience is our own property. Our mistake should be judged by none other than our conscience for, it only can give us the true reflection and interpretation of our mind and inner thoughts. It alone can decide the right and the wrong for us. Mistakes don't happen in a certain age nor do they stop occuring. A mistake may happen during a judgement, a desperation, a rage, a trauma or even in composure. But once a mistake is accepted by our conscience, we should acknowledge it as a fact. There is no need to atone or repent for an already committed mistake as not a single living creature escapes unscratched by these mistakes. Infact, these scratches should be seen in a mirror from time to time, contemplated over but should not be repeated. Avoiding a mistake to happen twice is the only way to correct it!
So, where was I? My mistakes... You should be waiting to read those as others' mistakes always make an interesting read. I may disappoint you at the end then. Was bunking the first lecture in my junior college days my mistake or disobeying my parents in my teens just as an adventure? Or was I wrong in choosing the stream of my education? Are all those cigarette buds and empty beer bottles a proof that I made a mistake? Oh, it seems my conscience had lost its balance for a long time. But it's surely awake now as I can't count anymore mistakes... a MISS has TAKEn over my heart now!!!! Statistically speaking, the frequent lapses in my conscience are gradually showing a decrease in numbers. Guys, believe me, this "misstake" is worth committing! The only disadvantage is that you err to spell the word: misstake. :)
Thursday, July 31, 2008
In a land of paradoxes....
Mumbai, Ajmer, Hyderabad, Jaipur, Banglore, Ahmedabad, .... We don't know THEIR next target. It can boom on the street we are walking now, it may boom in a theatre we will be watching a movie tomorrow. Terror is becoming all-occupying. THEY don't have any bias between global cities, cities termed as IT hubs, cities having heritage monuments, cyber cities, for they know simply one thing: all these cities are a part of INDIA, the nation.
The youth of India is looked upon as the saviour of the nation in its current critical condition of being in inflation, poverty, illiteracy, etc. But it is assumed that the culprits behind the current blasts are not any radicals or fanatics turned into suicide bombers with a timer around their wastes but an sophisticated, well-educated ilk of youngsters who are pretty much aware of the consequences of their acts. These youngsters are downright refusing to accept their Indianness. Use of technology for them is like spinning a web for the spider. They are choosing their targets at their will, their convenience, in fact they are informing police or Anti-Terrorism Squad about their plans by prior e-mails. They don't want to kill people just as yet, they want to create a fear in the minds of Indians, they want people to get frightened with every BOOM sound; may it be just a Diwali bomb then, they want to show the faithful Indians that to live in India is not safe. A portion of the youth of India is busy to put India at the top of the world: in Terrorism.
The perpetrators behind these heinous acts used to refer themselves as "liberators" for quite some time. But they don't mind being called as "terrorists" now and even their acts indicate towards that. Planting bombs in hospitals where injured people are taken after suffering for their lives is by no means an act committed in a war. But these cowards are reaching new lows for their cowardice. The frequency of these blasts is shocking. But somewhere we ourselves are responsible in the process.
The centres for conspiracies, planning, finances and implementation of the blasts seem to have shifted from the notorious gulf country to the shacks, small apartments, bylanes of various cities of our own country, where the mujahideens lie dormant for days and weeks and months, in order to avoid any suspicion before they finish their "assignment". It's a really tough task to nab a terrorist from his hideout for our Police Force. But unfortunately our Police Force is normally assigned as a "security" to our politicians, to control the processions that take place in day-to-day life. They have to follow certain orders in order to keep up with their perks and postings. The less we talk about our politicians, the better. They are busy in their own way to deface the nation's credibility by showing the wads of notes in front of camera to the whole nation and the world for mere party gains. We also have the MPs who label the blasts and the lost lives as "the diversification by the government from the nuclear deal issue". People's lives don't matter here; after all there 1.2 billions of them, right? And, the people, like us, who matter most in a democracy are so busy in our own lives nowadays that we don't even have time to peep into our own neighbourhood for a brief cordial chat. Why to spare a second for looking around us for any suspicious objects or persons if are to be found while travelling or having road-side fastfood when we have our i-Pod or mobile screens to look to? So, all in all, condition is well set for the terrorism to spread its roots here.
Terrorism is not something we are unheard or unexperienced of. But it's getting a makeover. Hijacking planes and using them as bombs, renting cars or bicycles to plant bombs, using e-mails are all nothing but the proves of the harsh fact that terrorism is getting modernised as also globalised. Many right minds are going the wrong way. Today, many radical Islami institutions are being run by very sharp,talented youngsters, who, if work towards the well-being of the nation, can materialize the much-hyped "superpower" dream of the nation much earlier than anticipated. India is replete with the youth who don't think how the world will impact India, but who think how India'll impact the world in this 21st century.
Indianness is neither a lesson taught in schools nor is present in the genes of an individual. It is a feeling felt by one whenever one sees indian tricoloured flag, hears an booker-award winner Indian's name, celebrates the Indian victory in a sports game but as well as after seeing a malnourished child on the roads, a beggar with no clothes, water running out of taps; for to live a paradoxical life is being an Indian. But "right minds, wrong ways" is a paradox we would all like The Almighty to pardon our India from.
The youth of India is looked upon as the saviour of the nation in its current critical condition of being in inflation, poverty, illiteracy, etc. But it is assumed that the culprits behind the current blasts are not any radicals or fanatics turned into suicide bombers with a timer around their wastes but an sophisticated, well-educated ilk of youngsters who are pretty much aware of the consequences of their acts. These youngsters are downright refusing to accept their Indianness. Use of technology for them is like spinning a web for the spider. They are choosing their targets at their will, their convenience, in fact they are informing police or Anti-Terrorism Squad about their plans by prior e-mails. They don't want to kill people just as yet, they want to create a fear in the minds of Indians, they want people to get frightened with every BOOM sound; may it be just a Diwali bomb then, they want to show the faithful Indians that to live in India is not safe. A portion of the youth of India is busy to put India at the top of the world: in Terrorism.
The perpetrators behind these heinous acts used to refer themselves as "liberators" for quite some time. But they don't mind being called as "terrorists" now and even their acts indicate towards that. Planting bombs in hospitals where injured people are taken after suffering for their lives is by no means an act committed in a war. But these cowards are reaching new lows for their cowardice. The frequency of these blasts is shocking. But somewhere we ourselves are responsible in the process.
The centres for conspiracies, planning, finances and implementation of the blasts seem to have shifted from the notorious gulf country to the shacks, small apartments, bylanes of various cities of our own country, where the mujahideens lie dormant for days and weeks and months, in order to avoid any suspicion before they finish their "assignment". It's a really tough task to nab a terrorist from his hideout for our Police Force. But unfortunately our Police Force is normally assigned as a "security" to our politicians, to control the processions that take place in day-to-day life. They have to follow certain orders in order to keep up with their perks and postings. The less we talk about our politicians, the better. They are busy in their own way to deface the nation's credibility by showing the wads of notes in front of camera to the whole nation and the world for mere party gains. We also have the MPs who label the blasts and the lost lives as "the diversification by the government from the nuclear deal issue". People's lives don't matter here; after all there 1.2 billions of them, right? And, the people, like us, who matter most in a democracy are so busy in our own lives nowadays that we don't even have time to peep into our own neighbourhood for a brief cordial chat. Why to spare a second for looking around us for any suspicious objects or persons if are to be found while travelling or having road-side fastfood when we have our i-Pod or mobile screens to look to? So, all in all, condition is well set for the terrorism to spread its roots here.
Terrorism is not something we are unheard or unexperienced of. But it's getting a makeover. Hijacking planes and using them as bombs, renting cars or bicycles to plant bombs, using e-mails are all nothing but the proves of the harsh fact that terrorism is getting modernised as also globalised. Many right minds are going the wrong way. Today, many radical Islami institutions are being run by very sharp,talented youngsters, who, if work towards the well-being of the nation, can materialize the much-hyped "superpower" dream of the nation much earlier than anticipated. India is replete with the youth who don't think how the world will impact India, but who think how India'll impact the world in this 21st century.
Indianness is neither a lesson taught in schools nor is present in the genes of an individual. It is a feeling felt by one whenever one sees indian tricoloured flag, hears an booker-award winner Indian's name, celebrates the Indian victory in a sports game but as well as after seeing a malnourished child on the roads, a beggar with no clothes, water running out of taps; for to live a paradoxical life is being an Indian. But "right minds, wrong ways" is a paradox we would all like The Almighty to pardon our India from.
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