Doing a good thing??

Usually when you do something good, or you believe it is good, you tend to feel good. You feel nice to know that you have made a difference. It could be anything from feeding a hungry dog to making amends. But, today, I realized that you need not always feel good when you do something that you believe is right. In fact, I feel perfectly miserable. Does that make it wrong? Only time will tell...

Senile musings...

Equations change. Priorities too. Rejection comes easily. So do tears. On a cold dreary night, you look at the ceiling to wonder if you truly deserve all that you get. You are petrified about losing the crystal you posses. Afraid of breaking it into thousand pieces. Driven by your fear, it has rolled off to a furtive corner. Never can it be reclaimed. You long for it but do not want it either. You wish you could close the door, latch it tightly, and never look back.

You have moved on, the room has been rebuilt, but the crystal still remains, haunting you with its absence.

March...

Went on a trip. Made friends. Ate like a pig. Walked myself into a nasty tan. Gave exams. Watched a long-forgotten Disney movie. Missed school. Made truce with a cousin. Met an old buddy. Almost saw her cry. Went for a drive. Felt guilty. Attended a zillion weddings. Finished a book. Worked like crazy. Got a new lappie. Named it ‘Toshitop’. Tripped on my cat thrice. Finally opened up to a close friend. Cried and laughed together. Cried some more alone. Broke my umbrella. Became indifferent to reality. Explored a whole new dream world. Watched a Hindi movie. Was gruesome. Planned a surprise ‘send-off’ party. Called it the ‘go away’ party. Took a day off. Had a bad headache the whole day. Slept peacefully.

Apathy...

Life's small moments teach you a lot more than you can envisage. Years of classroom lectures can probably help you rattle off point-after-point in a heated discussion, but basic lessons in sharing and love is something you can never find inside an air-conditioned room.

For instance, I happened to notice a group of gypsies, whose house was the platform, on my way to office. Two little famished kids, stark naked, were sipping tea from one small glass. That probably was their breakfast. Along their way came a dog, wagging its tail at the tea. One of the kids quickly pulled a broken plastic toy, which doubled up as a plate too, poured some tea into it, and offered it to the dog.

Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw such a magnanimous action two little souls were capable of performing. Inspite of giving away the little they had, they were content. It was charity in its purest form and found only among people who had nothing to give.

Even I, who passed them everyday, who could have bought them breakfast, had selfish walls built around me. With thoughts of reaching office on time, I had walked away like the rest of the crowd, pretending to ignore the blatant poverty on the other side of the road.

Indeed, what have we as humans conquered, if we have not the heart to stop for a minute to show empathy?

Once again

Once again the colored pieces suddenly come together...Their sagacity almost blinding…Complementing each other...Almost perfectly....In a moment of ecstasy...in the heat of solving the enigma finally...in the bliss of seeing the picture slowly falling into place...demystifying the darkness around you...a million hues diffusing…spreading a joyous glow....filling your heart with light...You smile...

And then abruptly the bits begin to falter...like a kettle ready to blow up any instant...simmering and scathing...the agitation becomes impossible to ignore…Apprehensiveness replaces smiles...Trepidation fills the space that you have started staring into insignificantly…

And in those moments of finality...you realize that the colored pieces were gray after all.

Realization...

I stooped down to smell them. But I could only see the sullied mud beneath.

I reached out to listen. But I could only see the wiry stalks that drooped.

I tried to hold them. But I could only see the thorns that pricked.

When I realized,

The mud beneath was clearer than my conscience,

The wiry stalk was stronger than my heart,

And the thorns were not as perilous as an aimless mind,

I stooped down again.

By then they were already safe, in another hand.