Idyllic Thoughts

Sitting in the bus which was suffocating me with people's myriad smells and presence, I heard a neta speaking at a roadside shamiana at some function in city today evening. He was saying that if Swami Vivekananda was alive today, he would have been horrified or something to that effect. In a matter of seconds that I heard those words, I felt they sound so hollow, that they clang, clang, clang against themselves. Who cares what are these netas' opinions? Because they surely wouldn't be theirs. Here is one Minister who speaks of HIV in theatre festival, with a complete absence of mind and sense that people would inwardly snigger at him. There is one more MP who tirades against his own party members and agenda, holding a press meet every other day just to keep himself floating in the midst of the political vortex. He doesn't undersand that it is they, the elected representatives, whose job it is to correct the administration and carry out people-friendly works. Th...

Once upon a time I used read a lot. I still read, but not about 600 pages in a day as I used to earlier. Then, many of my friends tried to emulate me by trying to read books. Some bought the book  whose outer cover they fancied, kept the book in a shelf for months to gather dust and then in one fine moment of guilt, started reading. None of them went beyond the first chapter. They came to me for help. But how could I help except suggesting to read the topics that interest them?  Now I realise that reading is an acquired taste. And there is one more in that list -- education. Yesterday when I was standing in the bus stop engrossed in an Isaac Asimov short story, a lady near me was pouring out her woes to another lady, that her son dropped out of college in degree first year saying that he had no desire to study and was bored. She said his peers who finished studies got some or the other job but he stayed without any. She sighed saying that she wished he would complete at...

I won't be using Facebook from now on. One of the reasons for the decision is my dwindling time spent on reading and writing. I don't like becoming a Facebook addict with no productivity. My reading and writing have lessened and I am dissatisfied with that. After deciding to re-enter the enchanting world of books fully after brief stepping-ins, I want to continue my journey without disturbances. And I would like to write more. I decided if my writing has any value, I don't need o update them on FB. Let me see how this liberation feels.

'Caught in a strange land in a net with other butterflies, I'm a caterpillar yet undecided to remain a caterpillar and perish or turn into a beautiful butterfly and live a life full of joy.' Readers don't laugh. But I came up with this one night recently when I was travelling in a train. I tossed and turned, not being able to sleep, upset over unexplainable things and frustrated over events not in my control. Then it occurred to me that our life and its usefulness depends on our decisions -- whether to remain a crawling caterpillar whose existence otherwise is either ignored by all and sundry or who is cursed for just being there and thrown out with a stick, or to develop wings of life and metamorphose into a beautiful butterfly whom everybody adores for its beauty and colour, for its flitting liveliness, for its service to the flower's pollination... I thought that I should be a butterfly, of service to others, but then again I thought, anyway, who really cares?