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.

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.

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.

Everybody's gotto have their say (about elections), cause that's what we do in democracy

This morning I woke up uttering the word ‘idiots.’ There was a speaker blaring loud, inane songs*, the lyrics of which were interspersed with mention of the symbol used by one of the major** parties here.

There are certain things that I don’t understand. Canvassing methods used by the political parties here is one such recent mystery. While technology and advertising have taken giant steps forward with all their subliminal messages and whatnots, the canvassing methods seem to have got stuck in a time warp. There is nothing subliminal about them. Absolutely nothing.

Well, I must confess they have made some sort of progress. They used those larger versions of bullhorn sort of speakers before. Now the normal kind of speakers are used, although that still hasn’t affected the quality of sound.

And oh, I’ve also managed to catch glimpses of different dances and buggy rides that have been used in canvassing in certain other parts of the country. From what little I saw/read of those, it just looked comical.

From what little I have perceived in the last couple of months, this year’s canvassing seems to have turned away from all the real issues and have turned toward these varying kinds and degrees of stupidity. This, I believe, is a ‘distraction technique’ something akin to what we would do to keep a child from crying or something like that.

Coming back to the issue at hand, perhaps, what happened this morning was a stride forward in canvassing techniques. May be, just may be, the opposing party was the one that was blaring the noise so loud, at 6 am in the morning, so that people will be put off from voting for that particular party.

All this makes it increasingly difficult to ‘choose’ whom I should vote for. Or perhaps, should I say, this has only made it easier?

* They couldn’t exhibit creativity even in the songs! The tunes are all popular Tamil movie song tunes, which are sometimes copies themselves.

** I’m not sure if there are majority parties in India anymore, nor even majority ‘coalition’ of parties.

Me

I don't have it in me
To be what you want me
to be
To be what i ought
to be

Who is me?
A somebody that already is?
Or a somebody that is still becoming?

How far do i stretch out
before i stop being me?
How far do i stretch out
to become me?

All in a box

I am packing to move houses. And my favourite place to start is the bookshelf. As I try to figure how to place the books of such various dimensions, I wonder why they can’t be all of the same shape and size to make packing neat and easy.

I smile. It is the difference that makes each unique. The length, the breath, the thickness, the binding, the cover, the content… Each so different.

And they shall all have a place in the cardboard cartons.

I sigh

Drowning in a sea of thoughts
Waves crashing
One against another
And new ones forming
Rushing towards my conscious mind

I struggle to resurface
To thrust my head
Through the crashing thoughts
I gasp for breath
I sigh

My friends tease me about the number of times i sigh. I quite didn't know how to explain why i sighed so much. And i didn't intend to write this thing as an explanation. I sat sighing this morning and this is what came out of it. :-)

Memories

I have been listening to stories. From people who have seen quite a bit of life. (I hope to be such a story-teller when I am their age!) While I have learned a lot from those conversations, there’s this thing that stands out for me now.

What you are actually left with are memories. And a good life is a shoe-box full of good memories from which you can pull out snapshots of people and past, look at the moments frozen in time and smile…

Humility

Humility does not come from debasing oneself. Humility should proceed from being fully aware of who we are, what our weaknesses and strengths are. And it comes from the willingness to place ourselves lower than others despite how big or how good we are.

Analogies

Analogies and examples - even if they are really brilliant - do not prove a point. They only clarify it.

Stolen moments

If i could write about one thing today, what would it be about?

Perhaps, it will be about stolen moments.

No, i am not talking about the moments stolen from us. Rather, these are the moments that we steal from life, like gulping down a lungful of fresh air before ducking back into water.

The moment of silence in the restroom away from the crowd
The quick moment of looking up and acknowledging God in the midst of a hectic day
The moment you allow yourself to be drawn into the beauty around you
The moment between turning off the light and your head hitting the pillow
The moment of repentance
The moment of release
The moment of glimpsing the big picture
The moment when hope's restored
The moment when peace is made
The moment when you feel God smile at you

The stolen moments from the pool of time...

Speck

I have a speck in my eye. Literally inside my eye. It is one of the floating things you see when you look at the clear blue sky. There are many other specks in my eyes that float around, but this one is prominent. It is dark unlike the other specks and it is bigger too.

I see this speck. It moves when I move my eyes. It goes up. It goes down. And left. And right. It is there. It annoys me.

I look at the mountain before me. Beautiful and green. Bluish too? Cloud-capped peaks. A sliver of white tucked in its folds. A waterfall. A portion of the mountain spotlighted by a beam of sunlight.

I have a choice. To focus on the ever present speck.

Or to drink in the beauty of the mountain.

I cannot do both, for one always clouds the other.

Of bus breakdowns and shooting stars...

Mind has a way of remembering the out-of-the-way things as opposed to the normal, run-of-the-mill things. And these out-of-the-way things are what become milestones in our memory lane…

…like a bus break-down. And the clear dark sky outside. And the spotting of a shooting star dart across that clear sky.

Fearful hope

Your heart skips a beat. You wonder at the possibility. You begin to dream. You begin to soar. Just as soon as you started to soar, you feel the tug. Fear checks in. You assess the reality around you. And then take stock of the impossibility. You dig your heel harder into the firm ground of reality.

It is better to be pleasantly surprised than to be disappointed.

The hypocrisy of anti-conversion laws

Various states in India have enacted 'Freedom' of Religion Acts and Anti-Conversion Act providing or prohibition of conversion from one religious faith to any other by use of force or inducement or by fraudulent means and for matters connected therewith.

The definitions used in one such Act goes like this:

(b) "force" shall include a show of force or a threat of injury of any kind including threat of divine displeasure or social excommunication;

(c) “force” shall include misrepresentation or any other fraudulent contrivance.

(d) “inducement” shall include the offer of any gift or gratification, either in cash or in kind and shall also include the grant of any benefit, either pecuniary or otherwise; may make rules for the purpose of carrying out the provisions of this Act.

Now what I don't get is, why are people being forced to 'reconvert' at the point of swords and sickles and weapons? What do the laws and people behind the making of these laws have to say about this?

Them

There will be 'us' and 'them' for as long as there is an 'I' and a 'you.'

The 'I' and the 'you' is. It is reality. The two can appear to be the same but yet, they are very different.

‘Us’ does not happen by obscuring the difference. ‘Us’ does not happen by disguising it with sameness. ‘Us’ happens only by recognizing the difference, and by embracing it.

When ‘I’ and ‘you’ become one, there is only ‘us.’ There is no ‘them.’

Reconnecting...

The last few weeks have been weeks of connecting and reconnecting with people. I, personally, did reconnect with a number of people. And I saw some people reconnect as well. And in some instances, I put off reconnecting and lost the chance to connect forever.

The reasons why connections had broken varied:

The most mundane, and the usual reason. Busyness.

People have gone their own way which tended to be in different direction.

Geographical distance.

Laziness.

Assumptions. Assumptions arising out of past events… Events which were not discussed and sorted out.

Misunderstanding and past hurts.

Drifting apart - unconsciously. Gradually. Without notice.

Similarly, various things that caused reconnection:

Determination and conscious effort - by either one or both parties to connect again. Deliberately making time for one another. Even if it means taking some sort of extra effort to make it fit in both of your schedules.

Picking up that phone and making the call. Now.

Travelling - this kind of overcomes the geographical distance.

Willing to take the risk. Willing to put aside our assumptions and to become vulnerable. Taking that one chance that our assumptions may be wrong.

Forgiving and putting aside differences. Being willing to talk it out.

Looking in your calendar and marking out time for meeting with old friends. And then calling the friends and asking them to block the date in their calendars as well.

Persistence - some people need that. But don't be persistent to the point of being annoying.

And in some cases, losing your mobile phone can also cause you to reconnect. :)

And the reconnections had these effects on me:

"Gosh! I had actually missed this person and didn't realise it for this long."

"It is wonderful to pick up from where we left. It is great that I can be as honest and vulnerable with this person as I was then."

"Wow! We've both grown and matured. And we still click."

"I still love this person…"

"It's so wonderful to laugh like we used to…"

And while saying all this, I must also mention that one of the members of my extended family died. We were planning to visit them just two days before she died, but we put it off for another day that would never come…

So people, pick up that phone and make that call. Spend a couple of minutes and email. Look in your calendar and see who you want to meet up with for coffee today. Get to know the person you've been wanting to get to know…

p.s. - Do feel free to share your reconnection stories. Treat this as a tag if you will.