An ode to Free Mind

Hi there,

Nice to be here, after a truly long time.

"I wandered aimlessly, when somebody
found for me, my aim;
I thought it was impossible, when someone
said it was doable;
I agreed still, when someone
insisted that I agree;
I soon forgot, when someone
reminded me not to forget;
I honestly never tried, when someone
forced me to try;
I became whole, when they
left me to my own self."

Luv
Vijay

Shankar's thoughts!

Shankar was busy staring at his mirror. Mirrors, he knows, are ruthless. But, he never expected his mirror to be so candid. The image it reflected back was not to Shankar’s liking. No doubt, it was his image! But, he could not stand the small patch of baldness above his forehead.

The bald patch has emerged at a central and visible location of his head. He found it impossible to conceal it.

He knew this day has to come.

A few weeks ago, he noticed few strands of his hair by his pillow. Ever since that, he had been noticing hair strands almost every day. Not only by his pillow, he suddenly saw his hair almost everywhere – on his towel, the breakfast plate and even on his favorite newspaper.

He thought his hair-fall had been gradual. But, he thought, his head had lost patience and has revealed the bald patch with a great sense of urgency.

Now, he quickly went over the facts. Rangan and the other friends would visit him anytime. They all must have had their breakfast by now. He looked at his face again on the mirror, hoping to see a better image. But, the image made his to sulk further. He was not sure of the reason for its sulkiness – was it his baldness or the worry it had brought.

He could hear footsteps by his room. He knew by the sounds, that it is Venkat by the door. Venkat has a very unique way of walking. Was Venkat born with that type of a walk, or did he acquire it aping his childhood-hero? How would he have walked a few years ago? Shankar suddenly realized the drift of his thoughts. He quickly came back to the present.

He waited for the knock and heard a faint one. Shankar moved to the door and found the old-age home’s manager standing there. The manager, a friendly man of about 75 years, smiled at him. Shankar, one of the inmates of the old-age home knew the reason for the manager’s smile. It only meant that he is about to get a new room-mate.

Shankar, the 85-year old inmate of the home for orphaned elders, was all smiles as he moved to the front office to meet his new room-mate.

As he moved his wheel-chair to the front office, Shankar did not have the time to nurse any further thoughts of his baldness. Those unpleasant thoughts, his boyish heart knew, can wait for now.

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Co-existence or Tolerance or Innocence!

Can't help clicking it!

Luv,

Vijay

Thanks again, Mr. Maupassant

The Balance

Her husband was brought home, dead. They had sent off the kids to school that morning. After an hour he complained of a mild chest pain. Before she could find people to help, he collapsed on the road. And, never woke up again.

As the news of his death was broken to her, she immediately thought of her two kids. The elder one, a boy, was 10, and the younger one 8, a girl.

She thought the earth was about to cave in, swallowing her. How nice it would be, she thought, if that could happen? While her husband was alive, they only had a hand-to-mouth existence. None starved. He was smart enough to find some jobs, however menial, ensuring to meet his family’s basic needs. Children were sent to attend the free school, which also fed them in the afternoon.

She had never been good at dealing with people. As a child, she remembered that she had a tough time looking into others' eyes while talking to them. She had been a timid child herself. Her children were no different.

After her husband's demise, she quickly came to terms with reality. There were some savings; no big deal though, but can last to feed the family for a week. She hailed from a remote village, down south. Her parents had had no great possessions.

After the last rites of her husband, she took some quick decisions. One important thing was to move into a smaller home in a shabby neighborhood. She did that to make a saving on their monthly rent. She could make more savings by cutting on milk and limiting the number of meals she ate. She took to drinking more water, more often.

She immediately looked out for employers needing domestic help. Two days’ search yielded good results. She could find job as a house-maid with six homes in her neighborhood.

She ensured that her kids attended their school, without any break. She knew that her forming a “routine” is the most important task. They say kids should never be exposed to shocks. She knew that her kids, now exposed to a rude shock, have to be brought back to a normal tone of life.

The neighborhood saw the father-less family returning to normalcy, fast licking its wounds.

That was a bright morning. She had just sent her kids to school. She was hurrying towards the first of the six homes. The routine of the day had just begun for her.

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Luv,

Vijay

Thanks to Guy de Maupassant!

The dream job

He seldom moves from that traffic junction. God knows when he became part of that busy junction. He himself would not remember.

He had been a rickshaw-man. No one knew his name. His customers use some common ways to address him. Some call him “Yei” – a very derogatory way to address a fellow human being. The relatively kind-hearted would add “pa” at the end of each sentence spoken to him.

Conversations with him never last a long time. Talks with him are so focused; things spoken are - the place to go, the tariff and accompanying negotiations to bargain it down.

Not many knew that he had a family. His family lived in a slum nearby. His mornings began with him smoking a beedi, followed by his wife feeding him with the remnants of the previous night’s dinner. He lived with his wife and three kids – all daughters.

Over the years, it had taken hardships and loans to get his daughters married. A few years ago his wife died due to some water-borne disease. His third daughter’s marriage expense saw him pawning almost everything he had, including his rickshaw.

Now, he had nothing much to do. His old age does not allow him to take arduous tasks. His daily schedule has changed. He now comes to the same corner, near that busy traffic junction. He would think himself of being young, energetic and still owning his rickshaw. He would await customers to hire his rickshaw. The whole day goes with him waiting there. He waits there for the whole day, every day, perched by the platform.

None takes him seriously. People who had shops by the pavement considered him to be part of the setting; as much as the leafless stump of the nearby tamarind tree, the ownerless stray dog, or the road-side sign-posts. None knew where he lived now and how he comes there every morning.

The day he fails to come, he was sure that he is not going to be missed. But, that had been his workplace, and that place had seen him active as a young lad with vitality and strength to carry challenging loads.

The place must be giving him the solace that his life may not have.

None knew.

The city was getting ready for another evening. The tube-lights were getting switched-on in the shops and people were hurrying to return home.

He knew his “work” for the day is over. He slowly got up from the pavement, and in an unhurried manner, began his walk.
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I wrote this short story recently. It had been my long-time wish to write such things, ever since I read the works of the legendary Guy de Maupassant. My close friends know that I enrolled self to learn French after reading his translated works. They also know I could only complete only the first level of exams in French :)

Thanks for your inspiration, Mr. Maupassant!

Luv,

Vijay

A memorable visit!

How would you like to live in a home that never ceases to trigger your imagination? How about living in a place that reminds perennially you of “what one knows is merely a drop, while the unknown is a vast ocean”?


How often would you see plaques bearing the quotes from Rubaiyat (of Omar Khayyam) and other Gurus strewn all around you? How I wish each of us gets to see such places often?

I do not plan many of my journeys. All through, I find most of my journeys just happenning to me. Many times, I find myself in interesting scenarios that lead me to meet new people and encounter new circumstances.

One such happened a few days ago. As part of my journeys, I got a rare chance to stay in an ancestral home of a family that had built & owned a huge commercial conglomerate in this country.


A thoughtful home

The place was full of portraits; hand-painted several decades ago, but still well maintained. The pictures were of various genre and they successfully created several moods. To sum up, one could see works that triggered emotions like “innocent-panache (!?)”, “painful-obedience”, “love-towards-all-living-beings”, “excitement-of-arriving-to-a-new-location”, “sharing-and-giving”, “humility”, “helplessness”, “leveler-as-seen-through-man’s-basic-needs”, so on and so forth.


The success of the paintings, as I saw, was in their placements. In the main drawing room, there were abstract sketches portraying the artistic struggle to visually communicate the “Blind Understanding” of Khayyam. The room had paintings that instilled action-based moods such as gallantry, panache and action-driven excitement.

In the dining room (dominated by a mammoth table on which 25 guests can dine in one go), there were portraits of the “consummate meal”, “sharing”, “giving”, “humanity” and the like.

The library

The home had a library that enhanced the home’s stature to a sizable extent. There were books that can inspire the reader and can leave a lasting impression on one’s life. It was a huge library for a home. I found books on various types of Vedas, autobiographies of heroes, serious works on civilizations and their journeys, treatise on histories, scientific approaches to theology, evolution-centered works, purpose of lives, and quotations of noble brains.

There were comfortable reading chairs and lamps. The reading room overlooked a huge garden, neatly maintained by a team of gardeners.

The outcome

I could see the sum total of the home’s effect when I got to meet with the current generation of the business family. First time I met one of them, I was not surprised to see a copy of “The Autobiography of a Yogi” on the table.

The next time I got to meet another scion of the family, a few days later, I found a copy of the “Living with the Himalayan Masters”.

I could not help but wish each kid in this world gets to grow up in such an inspirational home.

Luv,

Vijay

New slideshare entry!

Hi there,

Have added a new entry at Slideshare. I have provided the link below, and am eager to know your thoughts.

http://www.slideshare.net/pvijay/what-they-forgot-to-teach-1161474

Vijay