Sunday, July 08, 2012
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Sands of time slipping through my fingers
Flowing like streams of water
Not to worry
They flow back
In to the endless ocean of sand
I will grab another handful
And savour the feel
Of sand slipping through my fingers
Friday, February 05, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
It is difficult being a dreamer. Constant struggle against the tide is the way of life. But they wouldn't have it any other way. If anything, it is the struggle that whets their appetite for more. Yes. They do pull out of the stream every once in a while to recoup the strength and reassess the path of the river only to dive straight back into the river to continue their swim against the tide.
Even if it takes aeons, even if they don't see evidence, they continue and they persist. Sometimes violently. Sometimes silently.
It is these people that change the course of the river. May God give them strength and ever use them to bring the Kingdom.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Over the years things have started to change. Many farmers have opted to do coconut farms instead of crops. Some have stopped farming altogether. Many farmlands are being purchased by 'developers' and are plotted into 'sites' and are being sold to people who may want to build their retirement homes in the future. All these are signs of 'development' around here. Things are becoming urban. Anju had written about a similar experience about a year and a half ago.
I suppose it is inevitable. As the population increases more forests get converted into farmland, farmland into house, and on and on it goes. I also suppose it is justified as farmers aren't protected or incentivised for growing food. Urban development and industrialization seems to be the focus. Rural development, although talked about and certain things being done for the sake of having done something about it, isn't really the focus. Throw into this cauldron freebies that politicians give away to ensure strong vote-bank, we seem to have the perfect strategy for going downhill.
However, certain things give me hope. All is not lost. This article - although happening in Detroit - shows me that things are possible. Development keeps coming back to empowerment.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Thought i'd post this random, albeit insightful(!), conversation i had with my friend yesterday.
Well. She's a person who would say it as it is. Someone who you'd say is blunt. Someone that has a sharp tongue. I, on the other hand, am a person with a smooth tongue. Very diplomatic (i think).
Somehow, the words 'sharp' and 'blunt' seem unsuited. Don't you think?
Besides, it takes a very sharp knife to cut something very smoothly.
So... the point being...
Ah well. Life goes on...
Thursday, August 06, 2009
There is nothing new under the sun. Even the thoughts which are new to me aren’t really new. Other people would have thought up those ideas long ago. Even now there could be a number of people having the same ideas. What then makes my thoughts special?
Is it the personal discovery of it? Perhaps.
What moves me to share those thoughts with others? Is it to see if there is anybody who would understand me and share my discovery with me? To see if there are others who think like me? Perhaps.
Perhaps we all seek to connect and understand and make sense. Perhaps, each of us brings different pieces of the jigsaw. Each of us puts out the pieces of puzzle that we hold helps us makes sense of the bigger. Perhaps that is why melding your thought with mine makes better sense.
The big picture, I suppose, is the same old, same old. However, discovering the varied different pieces, seeing it come together, and watching the meaningfulness emerge is new. It is brand new.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Jealousy, like a drop of heavy poison
Grips my heart and drags it down
Through the mud
I try to grab my heart
And squeeze the last drop
Out of it
While i rest
Thinking that I’m rid of the poison
I feel my heart become heavy again
The darkness stains my mind
The claws clutch my conscience
Drop by drop
Little by little
Claw by claw
I will be rid of it
By the power of Him
who can rid me of it
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Stories are a part of everybody's lives. I, too, have had my fair share of stories - both consuming them and creating them. From the stories my mother would read in the newspaper supplements and tell me going to bed, to the fictions i have guzzled, to the movies i've watched, to the funny anecdotes that are repeated ever so often, and the stuff i've read and written in blogs. There is nothing new about stories.
Yet, they are so fascinating. Recently, i have been wondering at the power stories hold. Stories bring home reality like nothing else does, even if it is just imagined fiction. I amazed at the way a human being can connect to the life and experiences of another person, in another situation, in another world altogether.
I am sure there are a number of rational explanations as to why it happens, but that still does not diminish the wonder of it all.
The movie Australia, although not one of the best ones, really struck a chord in me. This brought to life the experiences of the Stolen Generation. Stolen Generation was something that was close to my heart, because of the stories my good friend from the down under shared with me when explaining to me what brought her to India.
There are stories that have made me feel helpless. Slumdog Millionaire, Hard-boiled Wonderland, Disgrace. While the injustice is made apparent in the imagined world, it brings home the reality in my world. Like the protagonists in these stories, there is nothing you can do.
And then, there are stories that have warmed my heart. The struggle between good and evil and the eventual triumph of good. I especially love stories where the struggle between good and evil takes place in one person's heart and not necessarily between the good party and the bad party. In essence, the good and the bad dwell in the same person. That person's victory over the evil in their heart is something that gives me hope.
There are imperfect stories, with the not so perfect ending. Nonetheless, reflecting the imperfection of the world and its people. This in itself is a revelation of the desire for perfection.
Well, there are all sorts of stories out there. And i hope to relish them, and let them do their thing in my heart. For often, data justifies my motivation, but it is stories that provide the motivation.