Love and Devotion...

“I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather... Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.”- William Shriner

came across this quote a few moments ago and it got me thinking. This is the kind of death my grandfather wanted. To go to his beloved Ram ji's care while sleeping or reading the Ramayan that is dearer to him than any living person. It is the Ramayan which he knows by heart, which he quotes to everyone, which he starts and ends his day with.

Today, that Ramayan lies untouched, gathering dust from lack of use in a drawer that has not been opened in ages. where is my grandfather? he like the Ramayan, lies; but contrary to his untouched Ramayan he is in the midst of innumerable tubes, pipes and machines. His ususally dyed hair (cut and colored by his own hands) is the shade of cotton and flowing on the same colored pillow he lies on. Pearl colored hair have sproted into beard though that was unthinkable since he preferred to remain clean shaven at all times. The pipes,tubes and machines have reduced him into something he never wanted to be- dependent. He is at their mercy with no consciousness of what goes around him...hope he cannot visualize himself in such a condition. That would make the machines redundant since the idea itself would kill him.

Its nothing new that 88yr old people fall ill...to be blatant, they know  that they dont have much time and even their loved ones know it. But, for a man like my grandfather, i consider it cruelly unjust that he should go like this- reduced to nothing. All his life he has lived and breathed the principle of Lord Ram. He is a self made man who believes in Karma and only Karma and nothing but Karma. A day before going to the hospital he said that even now he will continue to do his 'prescribed duty' as per Ram and will not relent at anything. A man like this who wished nothing from life except to die in peace is today fighting for his life against so many odds but still hasnt given up.

The point behind this is not to say that he shouldnt die, but the point lies in the way he is slowly dying. Even after making God his only love, he suffers at this moment and that to so intensely. its heart wrenching. I was never one for going to mandirs or praying on a regular basis. When someone goes to vist a temple i ususally sit outside coz i believe that god is eveywhere. We dont need to go to temples, we can do the same by just being true to ourselves. Seeing my grandfather live hell, i feel that life makes evens out on its own. The good suffer, the bad prosper. this doesnt mean we start doing bad things and we can get away with them, but it means that we shouldnt expect good things to happen to us coz we are good. life balances the amount of good and bad for us. It certainly seems to have done that for my grandfather. The prayers he has been doing since countless years have brought him to this. He says that he has been saved from being worse off but i say that death would have done him better. he doesnt deserve this. In the end, as they say, nothing matters. its the same with him. Ram or no Ram, he is suffering and i'm glad he is more optimistic than i am. hopefully, his Ram makes him come out of this a survivor and proves me wrong on my theory. I'm waiting for the Ramayan to be held in the hands that revered it for so long. It would be the best day of my life when that happens.

thoughts

"Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again."

- Othello,ACT III ,scene iii

"We are tragedians, you see? We follow directions. There is no choice involved. The bad end unhappily, the good, unluckily. That is what tragedy means. "

- Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead

Old at 22

Few years back i wondered when i'd be 18..finally reach that landmark where "adult" is stamped on my identity forever. From driving to marriage, everything was to be legalized. Life certainly couldnt get better than that, could it? Apparently, it could. Coz as soon as i turned 18, it seemed too young. Drinking was still out of bounds(as if i care...but you know the stamp i mentioned...feels reassuring that way!) and marriage seemed like an eventuality I could ignore for sometime(forever, if possible??). Now, a couple of days after my 22nd birthday, not only does it feel painfully dull to be adding years without any substantial increment in my brain cells, but it also feels unsettlingly old...as if all the landmarks i'd wished for were nothing but a mirage giving me a sense that atleast i've something to look forward to.Maybe i wouldnt even wanna drink at 25 if i carry on dis way:( Its not turned out like i'd hoped it would...and i know it never does so i'm not experiencing anything profound. But i'd hoped for some defining moment in my life...the one that would mark a particular year after my coming of age as 'special'...make me feel as if life so far has been worth it. I know i have 'miles to go before i sleep' as Robert Frost put it very nicely but i just hope i don't keep sleeping through the journey and realize later that life passed me by while i was too busy feeling old for everything!!
cheers to being lost and confused and not to mention being old at 22!

Musings...

Life hurls a lot of stuff at us and more often than not, we are unprepared for the attack. Sometimes i feel I'm just a dejected,loveless,tired and cynical soul throwing my sarcasms randomly for people to be hit by them. Its sickens the hell out me that this is the real me!( I mean since when did i start acting in such an un-ladylike manner!!) But sadly, this is true. This is probably how everyone sees me and I have stopped caring about them...is this normal? Frankly, I'm a bit paranoid about myself these days. Not that I wasn't paranoid about the same issue earlier but then the reasons were different. Pimples,parents,fights with pals,finding a boyfriend were the occupations of the mind. When i grew out of that and landed in this philosophical trap, i don't know. I'm just 21...isn't this the time to have fun,explore sex,make plenty of rich bfs and splurge on the girly necessities of life? Apparently its not possible for moi!

Its nothing to do with age i guess; this self torture that I put myself through. I am not aware of how other people feel...whether they think so much about life as well. Is everyone this sad? This dejected? Does everyone feel this sense of 'being acutely wronged' and 'let down' by friends,family and that special one without any apparent reason? Nothing of that big a magnitude has happened with me till now. I've had my share of ups and downs that come as a gift with being a human being but its nothing extraordinary that I've been through. Then what exactly is going on with the chemicals in my brain to make me feel this way? Its kinda maddening to sit everyday, resloving to stop bothering myself and to try and give myself explanations for putting on a facade for others. At a time when i should be enjoying the freedom of being young, I am constantly burdening my poor self with dramatic philosophies and boring theories about life. Now that I am writing about it, I'm able to see how helpless I really am.

I have tried alot to convince myself that I am normal('Coz sometimes I really feel its my fascianation with being normal that borders on abnormality!). Maybe this is what being normal means...and I'm not the only one suffering due to an overdose of philosophy. So eventually, after meanderings into the deep darkness of the unknown truths of life and realization that this is me- whether alone or not, this is how my life will be. Rebellion,anger,frustration and finally acceptance. I float in and out of these stages, hoping that someday i'll find a fifth stage called PEACE. Meanwhile, I'm moving through the previous four and unfolding the madness that accompanies each one. People may think that we go where life takes us,but I think that life takes us where we want to go. Waiting for my destination to come...

Exclamations!

Grand Dieu! Pourquoi suis-je moi?
(Great God! Why am I me?)

Un-teaching

I've always heard people talking about teachers in revered terms. A 'Guru' is one who enlightens us, makes us a better person on the inside and is next to God for most of us who have the honor of having been taught by one for a substantial amount of time. Isn't this the way many of us think? Don't we go out buying cards, flowers and gifts on Teacher's Day to show our immense gratitude and affection? Many of us even keep contact with our old teachers as we feel that the holy dust of their experince might rub off on us as well and save our neck's from evils that lurk beyond the classrooms. I'm no exception and have in no way disrespected any one my teachers(barring a couple who in my opinion landed in the wrong profession) and continue to do so with utmost solemnity.

Alas! An incident that occured a few days back, left me feeling deeply sorry for myself and for everyone else who chooses to blindly follow those people who regard their own noble profession as a money-making ploy. Last friday, i reached college five minutes after my class was scheduled to start. I entered and asked for permission as i would do normally. However, the class was going to be anything but normal.

The teacher was new(actually 'is' is a better word. He still teaches me) and by his appearance seemed to be pretty normal and less severe than a few others we had encountered this trimester. I sat back, still groggy and dull with sleep. Fumbling with my bag, i heard someone screaming. It was good old Zombie, with a voice any rat would die for! I know I'm being mean but then Zombie is also famous for the same and i wish to give it back to her. Anyhow, after screaming out thrice, her name was boldly spelt and pronounced by the usually absent Miss. N, who never misses an opportunity to make her rather large presence felt in her accented voice. Reality dawned upon me. It was introduction time; the same old 'my name is...' and 'i have done...' would be repeated by harried dozens in a drawl so as to lessen teaching time. This time though, it seemed different. Zombie's inability to shout out her name convincingly had raised questions. A barrage of curiosities had arisen in the new professor's mind and he was out to satisfy himself. Zombie's school, graduation college, her parents, her friends, her dog as well as her manner of dressing( which was a matter of curiosity for everyone) were commented and critically analyzed before us all. Offences were meant to be given and they were taken as a logical consequence. Zombie sobbed and Miss. N got a chance to provide accented consolations as she awaited her own fate. Exceptions werent made in the class and none was spared by the professor( and I shall refer to him as Mr. You Know henceforth since that is how his sentences began). After our introduction, we didn't need a mind reader to know what he thought about us, our families, our bf/gf, our attitude, our fashion sense or even our unredeemable futures.

Mr.You Know continued his 'introductions' but not without letting us 'know' few things about himself. They are the commandments of his life and so they must be spread among as many as possible. They are stated just as he let us 'know' them-
1. Never be late. Your boss will screw the life out of you. Big time.
2. Your college is shit. Your competition is with crap. You think you can succeed? Bullshit. Big companies will screw you like anything.
3. Don't say sorry. Only say sorry to yourself. No one gives a f***. They screw you.
4. These instituitions that call themselves post graduate colleges suck. They extract money and screw you high and dry man!
5. If you are late, you're gone. No one listens to your excuses. Lies are caught like fish. One lie and they screw you. They just screw you.
and i've saved my personal best for the last,
6. If you're wearing socks then pull up those else for those who wear 'chaddis' pull up your chaddis right now. This is the time. Do it now or they'll screw you forever.

Such were the lessons we started off with. The class was far from boring as most of us were learning new things. We felt new emotions. This was strange compared to the sameness we feel after all classes where we learn more about an MBA's life rather than a nail's life(since we were doomed to be screwed). For the first time i went up to Zombie and shared her feeling of disgust and deep anger alongwith a desire to be mean to someone, anyone just to get rid of the feeling of self-worthlessness. The class ended with a phone call received by Mr. You Know. We heard him excusing himself from some work saying that he was not teaching that day since he was in an urgent meeting that would go on till late. Hmmm...i say its too bad because now they'll screw him!

Living among ruins...

What has my life turned into?

what have I become?

among the pieces of the past

saving the fragile present.

Trying to color the shadowy today,

with the colorful stain

of a pale, ghostly yesterday

which pounds in life's each grain.

What about the promised 'calm'

that comes before each storm?

will chaos always prevail

shrinking my soul to a mere thorn?

Do I murder it and move on

with nothing left to hurt anymore?

or do I unburden the past

and dare to remember once more?

The little lies of life,

have spoken the truth today

I deserve to burn in agony,

and be in limbo, this way.

for I chose to let it be,

when it did matter the most

I chose to say goodbye,

when nothing could make me leave.

I chose to let go of it all

even though all I had was my heart

I chose to choose,

when there was no choice at all.

I know its wrong to lie,

and i wronged myself back then

I dont think I can forgive myself

or be forgiven for what I did.

Why then do I keep looking back?

whom do I expect to see?

what I left behind, stayed behind.

why then do I imagine it following me?

I loved, was loved

but only to loose

and now when nothing remains,

what do i choose?

Fire,they say, is the final destroyer,

so while I burn to ashes,

I'll be waiting patiently to see how it feels,

to live among ruins.