Unspoken

You feel this warmth towards certain people: feel connected to them for some reason. You may not have met them; you may be friends, but not spoken about this affection you feel for them; with some, you may have even tried telling them, but floundered to find the right words; and then, with a few – very few – you actually do manage to communicate, and they understand you. 

That doesn’t mean that you stop caring about the others that you care about: even if this affection is something that you just carry in your heart: no, not quite like a burden. Small talks, occasional enquiry, a line here, a word there, laughter shared, conversations had – frivolous and serious, sadness understood, prayers whispered in secret… These are all that remain. These are sufficient.

And, these are friendships surrendered to God.

Sands of time

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

Without hurry

I will grab another handful

And savour the feel

Of sand slipping through my fingers

More than that...

To repay evil for evil is ethics. To repay good for evil is grace.

The world has gone beyond the point where morals and ethics work. The need of the hour is grace.

Hindsight...

With hindsight, I would have done certain things differently, but I wouldn't have had the hindsight if I didn't do those things.

Dreaming on...

There are a few things that are a constant in the world. They may be expressed differently at different times, but they continue to exist. The struggle between the powerful and the powerless, that between good and evil, and that between idealists and status-quo'ers.

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.

Shrinking Villages and Green Cities

Most of my vacations and holidays were spent in my aunt's village. Days were spent going from one farm to the other, walking in the shades of coconut trees, playing in water, observing farm what farm labourers did, riddling them and they riddling me, sowing groundnuts, transplanting onion saplings, sitting on the cane chair outside in the evening and watching the stars...

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.

Abandoned... NOT

Alright. I did abandon my blog for this long. Hope to turn over a new leaf. New year is a good time to do that, eh?

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...

Making sense...

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.

Jealous

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

Stories

I have been wondering at the power stories hold.

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.